I contracted herpes through my best friend.  We had been friends for two years, but lost touch, and then we reconnected.  I trusted him explicitly.  I asked him if he had any kind of STD.  He told me ‘no’ and I left it at that because I was naive and again, I trusted him.  I felt I had no reason not to.  I irresponsibly had sex with him throughout our new relationship without condoms.  My relationship with him was the most fulfilling of any I had ever experienced.  I was never happier.

Last Thanksgiving, I was going to meet his family for the first time.  They were from a different country and we were all converging in Virginia, which was a long drive for us.  That morning, before the drive, I noticed I was kind of sore down there.  I didn’t think anything of it.  About an hour into the drive, I wished I hadn’t worn jeans.  It was burning, so I thought it was a yeast infection.  I got some clotrimazole and I thought that would be it.  Wrong!  The car ride was agony for me.  I spent five minutes meeting his family and then I made my excuses, saying I was exhausted from work.

I went to the bathroom and I got right up on the sink to see if I could see anything in the mirror.  I looked and I saw little white things.  I almost stopped breathing.  I knew I had tested positive for nothing and I had been faithful.  I had no explanation but I knew something was wrong.  He came to check on me after settling in with his family.  I tearfully told him something was wrong and that I had never cheated on him.  I was so worried that he would think I had done something wrong.  He asked to see what was wrong and I showed him. He turned away from me.  I was deeply hurt by that and I asked him to please talk to me.  Honestly, I wanted him to tell me nothing was the matter; I wanted him to explain it away.  He still wouldn’t look at me, so I re-iterated (kind of desperately) that I had never cheated on him.  I was standing up now trying to get him to look at me.   He still wouldn’t look at me.  Instead, he whispered his nickname for me and said, “I have something to tell you.”  That was it for me.  I couldn’t breathe.  I couldn’t even stand up.  I fell right to the floor.  I couldn’t move; I couldn’t speak.  I was completely numb.  I couldn’t believe that he just confirmed my worse fears, that he had lied to me, that he had betrayed me.

He told me that his ex-wife had herpes and he caught it from her.  She never told him, he found out while he was deployed.  He said that he was scared to tell me and that is why he never did.  After I got over my shock, I couldn’t even be mad.  All I could think about was that I was going to be better than him.  I told him I would never do what he did to me by not telling me.  I said I would never take a decision like that away from someone I respected, loved or liked.  I did not get mad.  To make a long story short, I forgave him right there, telling myself that I was being the better person by not losing control.

That night, I couldn’t sleep at all.  He never told his family, so they all thought I had a bad attitude.  My son was there driving them up the wall.  He didn’t understand why I was in bed, not paying attention to him.

The next morning, before anyone woke up, I had him take me the doctor because I thought I was going to die.  It just happened to be Thanksgiving, so the only place I could go was the emergency room.  I was humiliated.  I wanted to hurt him, but I just kept going over how much better I was by forgiving him and vowing to never be such a jerk to a sexual partner.  Having to go to the pharmacist was the worst for me.  I had to wait there while he filled the prescription and I knew that he knew why I was getting acyclovir.  Up until then, I had never dealt with anything like this.  I was looking at all of the Christmas ornaments they had at the drug store and I was so sad.  I knew my life would never be the same. Deep down, I knew it was my own fault for not insisting on protection regardless of whether or not I trusted him.  I just didn’t want that kind of reality at that time.  I just wanted to blame anyone but myself.

We got the medicine and went back to his family’s place.  Everyone was still sleeping, so I spent all of Thanksgiving racked out on Percocet.  They still just thought I was spoiled.  He didn’t offer any kind of explanation other than that I was sick.  That night, he came in to tell me that the family wanted me and my son to leave.  They were having a hell of a time controlling him and well, you can imagine what else they said.  As soon as he told me that, the effects of the Percocet weakened (at least in my head) and I left with my son.  He offered to drive us home.  I agreed.  We got home a few hours later and then he got up and went back to his family.

I spent the rest of that weekend in my bed, crying to my mother.  I was so thankful I saved my Perrier bottle from pregnancy because it was the only way I could handle using the bathroom.  My mother wanted to kill him and she could not understand why I forgave him and stayed with him.  I ended up staying with him for six more months before it really dawned on me how much I did not deserve that.

I understood my blame in the whole situation.  It was a hard lesson but I am now my first line of defense. Telling him to leave and realizing just how much I am worth was one of the hardest things I have ever done.   He did not understand at all — he kept saying things like “it’s happened now so just move on,” and I truly feel bad because he will probably do it to someone else.  I just hope they are not as naive as I was.

I have had two sexual partners since him and both knew from the very start that I have herpes.  I went through all of the information I had on it, answered their questions, and it was not uncomfortable at all for me.  It made me wonder why he was “scared” about telling me.  I am not ashamed about having it, and someday I would like to publish a small story about it.  I want females to know that, no matter how young or old they are, or how inexperienced or experienced they are, they should stand up for themselves.