Epidemic (It's Epic) of Ayds

I’ve been afraid to've been array'd
(although faux fears have been allay’d).
At thirteen I was "all the way"'d: 
bouquet'd, buffet'd, bidet’d, betray’d.  

I've been Calais'd. I’ve been Cathay’d.
In Mandalay, café au lait’d.
At luncheon, I was consomme'd --
and, for dessert, was creme brulee'd.

I've been crochet'd. I’ve been croquet’d. 
(God knows we all have been cliche'd.)  
I've been display'd, dismay'd, delay'd -- 
first dossier'd, then "lef' fer dade." 

I've been eBay'd, been "ev'ry day"'d.  
En fin, I've (fin'lly!) been filet'd. 
I've been Green Bay'd, been Jean Genet'd.  
(I've not (yet!) been Doc Holliday'd.) 

In Michigan I’ve been Imlay’d.
In Portugal, I've been Jose'd. 
In Mississippi? KKK'd.
Portray’d, in oils, by Tom Kinkade 

Have I been laid? Once -- by the maid:
she’d smear my vir with marmalade. 
At chez Norais, I’ve been “Nay! Nay!”’d
Nous sommes alles'd – or so they sayd.

I’ve been “ole!”d, though not obey’d.
I pray’d to see The Big Parade.
In grade school I was PBJ’d.
(The principal, one Randy Quaid…

…was spray’d with Raid, Swiss (Miss) chalet’d
and – oui! – touche’d with shiv-sharp spade.
In high school I was tooth decay’d.
In college I went underpaid.

We’ve – you ‘n’ me -- been USA’d
Our unpark’d cars left unvalet’d --
except when we’ve been wedding day’d
Our cells abandon’d, un-x-ray’d.

If those prove squamous, then we’re daid.
“Tis not a prospect to be “Yay!”d.
What we must do, before we fade,
is make a date with Dr Zaid.