The condom split in my new apartment, and my situationship refused to split Plan B, claiming peeing upside down neutralizes everything. When I went to the youth clinic alone, the nurse recognized his description immediately: "Wait, the tall guy with the hoop earring? He’s brought two other girls here this month." I feel completely sick to my stomach.

First off: deep breath. You got the emergency contraception, which makes you the only person acting like an adult in this scenario. Let’s clear the biology first: peeing—upside down or otherwise—clears your urethra, not your uterus. Homemade internet hacks only earn you chemical burns and panic. But ignorance isn't his real problem. This guy is a walking biohazard with what sounds like a frequent-flyer stamp card at your local clinic. He didn’t refuse to pay because he genuinely believed in fairy-tale biology; he dodged it because dodging accountability is apparently his weekly routine. Next step: while you’re already in touch with the youth clinic, book a full STI screening for two weeks from now. Do not skip this. As for him, don't waste your breath fighting over twenty bucks. Text him: *"The clinic staff sends their regards. Lose my number."* Then block him everywhere. Congratulations on your new flat—it’s officially far too nice to ever host that clown again.