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The first infection, physically the most painful, is also medically recognized to bring with it a depressive malaise, not only because you now have a lifelong virus that will cause pain, embarrassment, and create some degree of mess in your personal life. The day of my diagnosis, I couldn't lean on anyone for support. Instead, I cried a lot in the bathroom, then went to Tae Kwon Do class anyway, where each kick felt like my flesh was being pulled off with hot pokers. I'm shocked it didn't leave scars.
My ex-boyfriend gave me herpes after we were together for a year and a half. He claimed he didn't know he had it. I didn't believe him. In hindsight, getting herpes from him seemed so avoidable. I noticed that his bottom lip looked chapped, but didn't know much about cold sores. It was late winter, when dry lips are the norm.
"Did you split your lip or something?" I asked him outright.
"Yeah, I guess so," is all he said. It didn't occur to me to worry about it.
Three days later my clitoris, having been the focal point of much contact with the questionable lip, felt painfully tender and raw. Then a few other spots developed and became the sores you hear about, and the image you dread to Google. I found more on my gums, under my tongue. It was Old Testament punishment, and my body was Egypt. It felt like God was smiting my heretofore beautiful ladyflower.
I was raised Catholic. I'd even wanted to become a nun until I was about nine and started to wonder about sex, imagining Sleeping Beauty-style scenarios where dashing young heroes sought to wake a slightly older, more womanly version of myself. Midway through college, I was proud that I'd remained disease free. I sought to maintain my track record by becoming a serial monogamist.
The long-term boyfriend who gave me herpes was by most accounts a squeaky-clean, intelligent young man. I was serious about Will, even considered him a potential husband. I felt that we were together on a path, right up until he "somehow" gave me herpes. My doctor explained that people can have it for years without knowing it. It didn't mean he had been unfaithful, but his immature attitude was as big a disappointment.
I typed, "Maybe this will help turn you off. I got herpes six months ago." |
If I tried to talk about the physical or emotional aspects of having the virus, Will would cut me off, saying it made him feel guilty. It seemed unfair that I had to protect his feelings while trying to keep mine falsely positive. I stayed with him for a good long while, even though I sensed other incompatibilities. Fear I would never be able to find acceptance with a new person — and of passing the virus along — cowed me. The Flaming Lips played on perpetual repeat.
The knowledge that the responsible way to enter a relationship is to tell your prospective new beau that you have herpes does nothing to make you want to try a fresh start. Until I told my current boyfriend.
Mark had been my friend for a few years and was also in a relationship, so I felt insulated from the ramifications of telling him. One day over instant messenger, he admitted he was struggling with an attraction toward me. With nothing to lose, I typed, "Well, maybe this will help turn you off. Will gave me herpes six months ago."
"Thank you for telling me that," he immediately responded. "I'm so sorry. I have HPV. You know, genital warts? I had them treated, but I hate how gross I feel — like I can ruin anything I touch."
Mark was the first person I ever told. I couldn't believe my relief at his empathy. Suddenly I felt desirable again. I broke up with Will that week. When Mark and I started seeing each other six months later, there was no need for the dreadful "I have to tell you something" conversation. It's extremely difficult to do this under normal circumstances. To open yourself up to the any possible reaction rarely seems worth it.
Negotiating the space between Will and Mark led to some interesting moments. Once, after kissing a guy, I had a private panic attack but only told him I didn't want get romantic, so we went no further. I told another guy my status before we got intimate; he confessed to having been treated for gonorrhea a couple months before. In general, guys had an easier time accepting a virus than rejection, and most wanted to hook up anyway.
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