After things ended with Jill, I spent a few months collecting my thoughts and trying to figure out why I had been such an ass. That's when a friend introduced me to his coworker, Barb. She was 29, a working professional with a serious demeanor and a bitchin' old-school Mustang convertible. I'm not even a "car guy," but even I had to admit it was a sweet ride.
After the initial meet-and-greet, we decided to get drinks. And this is where Barb earns the honesty award.
We were two beers into our second time ever hanging out, and everything was going well. I was sober, and I think she was, too. Apropos of nothing, Barb blurted out, "Umm, it's not like I have HIV or anything, but I do have herpes."
My brain went, "Hmm..."
Listen, there's nothing funny about having an STD. Nothing. But it was certainly an interesting time to tell me—over drinks, when the only physical contact we'd had was a handshake. And let me be clear, I'm glad she told me—good for her. I also give her credit for the opener, "It's not like I have HIV..." because when you compare herpes to that, it doesn't seem as bad.
No one ever really trains you how to respond to a statement like this, especially when it comes out of the fucking blue. As I racked my brain for all the info I retained from high school health class, I sputtered out the only response that came to mind: "That's cool, dude." I'm sure that was ultra-reassuring.
Barb and I
Barb and I dated for a few months, but things got weird when we got physical. I wasn't 100% clear on the "rules" of having sex, given the circumstances, and neither was she. I feel like I would be crystal fucking clear on the limitations of herpes sex, but that's just me.
Our physical contact was limited to hand jobs, which I gathered she hadn't done much. I came to this conclusion (and believe me, it was the only time I came with Barb) because it was so painful. She violently tugged and pulled on me like she was playing foosball. When I gently suggested, "That feels good but...could you try doing it like this?" I was told it made me a "world-class asshole." She later yelled at me, "You should be grateful I'm touching you at all!"
And just like that, I finally understood why Barb was single.
She later apologized, but this rocket ship was plummeting toward Earth in a hurry. Since neither of us knew the physical boundaries and anything with our hands was off the table, we dry-humped a lot and were both left unsatisfied. The breaking point came when she suggested we have sex and that life with herpes "wasn't that bad...if I just got used to it."
That was too much information for me to process, so I decided to put the relationship out of its misery. Deciding to catch an STD seemed like a bigger commitment than I was ready for.
Maybe I handled it incorrectly, but I learned one important lesson: those health classes from high school were fucking useless.
4 comments:
Yipes! At least you didn't get in too deep, there. Maybe she gets some "points" for being honest..
OK...wow. The hand job part of this story was painful to read. She's a cuntasaurus rex! But moving on, one of my longer term boyfriends had the herp. If it's not "broken out" you can have sex. It's fine. I still recommend a rubber. Fun stuff, I know.
Herp isn't the end of the world. I'm still glad we were safe though!
Also, how did she not know her physical limitations? I'd fucking know if I were her!!
~Kat~
That was my whole thing, how do you not know the rules? I really wasn't making fun of it, but I was making fun of her for being clueless...
In fairness to her on the HJ front, all women are working from a distinct disadvantage when giving us a handy. This is something we are supremely skilled at and while we appreciate your attempt, it's amateur hour.
Ouch...I slept with a guy yesterday that I really wish I hadn't. He didn't know how to put the damn condom on. 34 years old. WTF has he been doing all these years?!?!?!?!?
Needless to say, he was terrible.
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