It’s already been long ago established that “men” have nothing resembling any sense of shame. Maybe that’s how they’ve managed to get so much further ahead in life than women (while also somehow getting head in the process–as if they need another reward for their bad behavior). And maybe that’s why so many of them (particularly the married kind) prefer to outwardly accuse a woman of having an STD as opposed to being a gentleman by getting the test without telling her, finding out the results and then slinging accusations at her about the state of her health.
No, instead, the average “man” prefers to pre-shame, to jump the gun in letting the woman he derived his pleasure from feel that she’s a dirty whore who ought to stop spreading her disease all over town. Then, a few days later when he finds out he was letting the paranoia that even weed can’t justify set in, he’ll somehow have the balls (though he’s still missing a dick) to reach out to you again and ask you a frivolous, non sequitur question like, “Have you seen Blow-Up?,” as though you’re just supposed to swoon over his Antonioni 101 knowledge and forgive him of recently making you feel like little better than trash found on the street to masturbate with.