I'm giving up on love

I'm going to have to. I just can't keep putting myself out there anymore. For everything that I went through in 2009, all the less than stellar men that I met (not even dated, these are just people that I talked to), I wasn't going to look for that special someone anymore.

I was going to focus on myself- take my GRE, start looking at grad schools, get my passport, travel, basically reconnect with who I am as a person. I basically ignored that person all last year, running all over the country, spending time with people who weren't good for me, getting my heart smashed into a million little pieces, and losing friends.

This year was going to be different. I'm taking care of myself- mentally, emotionally, physically. And then the Greek god came into my life. I really have nothing else to call him, except that he's Greek and he's wonderful. At least I thought so.

After talking to him on the phone only once, we made plans to go out. Most of the time I drag my feet on meeting in person (as experience has taught me that it wasn't worth it), but this time I knew something was different. From our conversations over the phone, I suspected he was something special. Perhaps good for me, and I good for him. No, I wasn't going to start hearing wedding bells (I swear), but there are some things I've learned over the past year when it comes to the right person which I have to listen to. There are many, many things about him which I think are pretty fabulous.

But I could be wrong. I usually am, as the past has taught me.

We had a great first date. Fantastic. No first date sex, although a little groping happened. Hell, I'm in my 30's. I have needs. Nothing too crazy.

Second date, hanging out playing video games. Some of the most fun I've had in ages. Again, no sex, marginal groping.

Third date...I didn't know if sex was going to happen. I didn't want it to, because I really liked this guy and wanted to wait. And then he tells me that he's scared of sex. What the fizzle? Date 1 and Date 2, I'm concerned that I'm going to have to tell him no because he was into me. And then he tells me that because of the gift, sex scares him. Is that possible? Is that his way of telling me that he's just not that into me?

I really don't know, but I think I'm going to have to walk away from this one, no matter how much fun we have. I can't, won't, absolutely refuse to get hurt again.

Oh wait, I'm already hurting.

And now for something completely different

Wow, it's been awhile. 2009 has come to a close, and 2010 has been ushered in. It's been a couple days over a year since I had my first outbreak. If the first year is the worst (physically and hopefully emotionally), I have nowhere to go but up.

Unfortunately, the first few hours of 2010 are not the best representation of how I want this year to go.

To ring in the new year, I decided to go to my (relatively small) hometown to hang out with some friends I hadn't seen in years. I also ran into a guy who I had a crush on in high school (actually, I was hoping to run into him as I heard he hangs out at the bar I was going to that night), and we got to talking. Lots of talking. He looked great (according to me), I looked great (according to him), and we kissed at midnight. There was even talk of him coming to visit me (little did I know how drunk he was at the time).

Because he was extremely drunk, he faded shortly after midnight. Since I was able to, I offered to drive him home. We wanted to talk more, so I went in (don't judge, I KNEW we weren't going to be doing the horizontal mambo). He REALLY wasn't feeling good, and ended up vomiting. Hot, I know. He did want some cuddles (he really is adorable, and always has been), so I laid down with him for awhile. He knew he wasn't feeling good, and wanted cuddles, but also suggested getting together the following day to really hang out.

Whoops, he didn't just want cuddles, he wanted more. Of course, I wasn't ready to tell him my secret just yet (because I'm sorry, you HAVE to if you want to sleep with someone), but I didn't want to leave because I figured it was the alcohol talking. I really had it in my head that he was a good guy.

Somehow we got to talking about life and sex, and he point-blank asked me if I had herpes. Because I always had a crush on him, and did care about him (and hoped we could start something), I couldn't lie. Wouldn't lie.

He was taken aback at first. I asked him if he had ever met anyone with it, and he said no. I pointed out that it was most likely that someone had never told him before. He didn't freak out right that second, and asked good questions. He said that he wanted to do some "research," which I took as a sign that he wanted to see me again, but needed to adjust to the situation. I left that night, but asked him if he still wanted to hang out the next day. He said yes, and then said he'd call me or I could call him.

I called him. He didn't answer (he may have actually silenced the phone before all the rings went through). I left a message. He didn't call me back. He left for a vacation out of the country the next day.

What does this teach me? Yes, telling someone is hard. Although I thought that he'd be different, it just reiterates that I don't want him in my life. It still hurts, but I'll survive.

I promise.

The internet is evil

To be honest, I think I'm handling this herp thing pretty well, if you take out the fact that I've had more nervous breakdowns in the last year than I ever have had in my life, and that I've got a bottle of pills "just in case" (although clearly I haven't used it). Don't get all crazy on me about the pills, it's hidden, and I would never do that to my mom. But I will say it's having my heart broken- repeatedly- that I have that stash.

Really...I'm doing okay with it. Except when I look up symptoms on the internet. There's no handbook on herpes, in my case the doctor just told me I had it but couldn't provide any real answers. Granted, I had no idea what to ask at that point, but because it's not a fatal disease, I don't think researchers care that much about looking into it, despite the fact that it affects so many people and causes so much physical and psychological pain.

I have been very lucky in terms of the frequency of symptoms, but I also get paranoid about things. I think there's a strong possibility that some things are psychosomatic, but I like to be sure. While I'm a big fan of "googling," in this instance it just reminds me of the fact that I have this, and even though there are so many other people who have it, I feel isolated.

So I'm closing that browser window, and stepping away from things that make me unhappy. For now.

Ugly Duckling...Swan...Coot...Phoenix?

When I first received the diagnosis, one of the hardest things that took a hit was my sense of how attractive I was to others. I remember being at the gym, working out, and wondering why I bothered to work out when I was going to be alone for the rest of my life, tainted and unlovable.

I wasn't always pretty. Actually, I don't really consider myself to be pretty- all I ever hear is how "sexy" I am, but never that I'm "pretty," or "cute" or anything like that. It was even worse when I was an awkward, skinny teen with braces and bad hair. And then I hit my 20's, got some marginal curves, and worked it like I owned it. The fellas seemed to like me just fine, although I doubt it was for my sparkling personality and stunning intellect. While I didn't think I was a supermodel, I knew I wasn't completely tragic.

Now I'm not so sure. I still wonder why the hell I'm bothering to keep myself in shape, as I'm not feeling very attractive. I actually cry every day in fear that I'm going to wind up alone. The only thing that keeps me going with my exercise program is the fact that exercise helps stress, and stress is an H trigger.

I'm still waiting for the moment when it will get easier, and I'll be lovable again. I don't believe it. At all.

Sorry it's been awhile

But as no one probably reads this, I'm not that worried about it. What have I been doing that's kept me so busy? Well, dating. It seems that my love life is busier with the herp than it was without, and I don't know if that's because I'm a lot more guarded than I was (therefore ultimately more attractive because bitch = hot), or just because I'm dating people with it.

Recently, I've been meeting more and more civilians (for those of you not "in the know," those are people who have not been blessed with the gift...that they know of), which brings up the uncomfortable situation of having to tell them if you want to date them. I'm not going to be like some of the giftees out there who don't tell anyone, like my friend R who thinks she's cured. I just can't do that to someone. Nobody told me.

Since it seems like I can't get the secret handshake off the ground, what I've decided to do is have business cards made up. Not with my name or anything, and it's not like I'm going to be dropping said business cards in a fishbowl for a free lunch, but basically I want it to go like this:

"Hi. I have herpes. This may freak you out, but it's not as big of a deal as some make it out to be. It happened, and it could happen to anyone. Instead of looking on the internet and finding some not nice pictures, I would suggest you go to {insert best herp website here} for all your questions. Or you can just ask me, because I learned more than I ever wanted to know. I'm telling you this because I care about you as a person, and want to continue to spend time with you. If you want to be an asshole about it, throw away this card. If you are an intelligent and understanding human being, I'd like to continue seeing you. Have a nice day."

Granted, that may be more than what would fit on a business card, and as my mother says, a little impersonal, but wouldn't it be easier? Just do a drive-by, and not have to sit there for their reaction?

I am still learning about this whole civilian thing, and I'm hoping it gets easier. Right now it is the suck.

I'm proposing the "H" sign

Specifically, I want to develop some sort of non-verbal communication so that we can distinguish each other (because some of us don't get cold sores, and some get cold sores but still think that HSV2 is the antichrist) when we're walking down the street, or at a bar, or whatever. Somehow, I also want those without herpes, but don't mind dating people who do to also pick this up.

Recently, I told someone who didn't take it so well. And by not taking it so well, I mean stopped talking to me. I'm still upset, the waterworks just will not cease. It would have been nice to know where he stood on the issue definitively before I dropped the H-Bomb on him, but hindsight is always 20/20. And basically I'm never telling another person who I care about for as long as I live. Unless they know this:

Here's what I think. Since it can be such a bomb to drop on someone you're dating/interested in/can tolerate for 5 minutes, let's use American Sign Language for the letter H, and the word "bomb". Sure, it may offend some, but getting shot down because of something a) I didn't ask for and b) something that I was nice enough to share makes me care a little less about offending people.

So here we go:

The letter H

http://www.handspeak.com/spell/index.php?abc=aslh

and the word Bomb

http://www.handspeak.com/sign/b/indexBO.php?sort=bomb.

In case you were wondering, I did look for the word "herpes" in there, but couldn't find it.

So start spreading the news. One H Bomb at a time.

Wow, it's been almost 6 months

I had every intention of writing often about my experiences since being diagnosed, but I just wanted it to go away.  Maybe if I thought hard enough and pretended it didn't exist, I could go back to not having herpes, having a normal life, not feeling like an outcast, not suffer increasingly deeper bouts of self doubt.  

Obviously, that hasn't worked, although I have been extremely lucky thus far.  No real discernable symptoms, other than the ones that have been in my head.  The hardest thing is the feeling of isolation, particularly when it comes to dating.  Sure, there are websites out there to connect people with the "gift," but I've found that guys in their 30's with herpes are bigger assholes than those without.  I don't know if they have higher expectations of what they want- more perfection, less patience, or what.  I know that I've become more patient of flaws, but I also know I'm less likely to settle.  I've also noticed that these guys tend to be more about the sex and less about the relationships.  I can understand that your sexual dating pool has been severely limited, but really?  You can't form an emotional attachment?  You can't see me as a person, instead of just a vag that you don't have to drop "the bomb" on?  It gets old rather quickly.

Sure, there are some guys out there who know it's not a big deal.  Unfortunately, there is not a secret handshake to determine who they are.  I've had mostly okay experiences in choosing who I tell, but for the most part it hasn't been someone I'm dating at the moment.   What's difficult about telling anyone is you don't know how they will take it.  Some people think it's contagious from a drinking cup, some people will think you're a whore, some will just automatically rule you out.  The ones who keep reminding me that it's not a big deal are what have saved me.

One of the first people I told is a guy I used to date, but we're still friends.  For 27 (or it could be 28) years old, he's remarkably mature about it.  If only he would be less of other things- he'd be perfect.  But we're better off as friends, so that's the important part.

I also told a friend of mine who I wasn't dating.  He stopped talking to me.  Freaked out like it was going to travel through the phone to Portland, OR.  He's an assclown.

Then there was the ex.  Not just any old ex.  This was a guy who I dated many years ago when I was young, naive, and not old enough to drink.  We had been friends off and on for years, but last year (right before I started dating the douchebag who didn't tell me about this wonderful thing he had), ex and I talked about getting back together.  Needless to say, it didn't work out at the time, for which for many reasons I am kicking myself now.  Despite the fact that our rekindled romance fizzled, we STILL remained friends.  And I told him my situation.  And he really didn't care.  We again didn't get back together, but still talk.  I don't think it's going to happen, mostly because I have so many conflicted feelings about love in general.

Which brings me to what prompted me to start writing again.  Apparently I'm on a kick of wanting to spend time with people who I've known for 10+ years.  Or it could be that I'm just too much into social networking sites.  Whatever.  I started talking, albeit platonically, to an old friend from high school.  Some of our communications did get a little flirty, but I didn't take it too seriously because we didn't live near each other.  Same state, yes.  Same town, nowhere near.  Then things took a turn, and I made the decision to go visit.  Again, the original intentions were platonic, but the flirting got kicked up a notch.  Prior to my trip, I attempted to determine what his comfort level would be if I told him my situation.  I was pretty confident he could handle it, but wanted to see if it would be relevant before I divulged.  It became relevant, and I dropped the bomb.  He took it quite well, just wishes I had told him sooner.   Going along with the secret handshake, I wish there was a magic H ball which would tell you when to tell someone, because I managed to apparently mess up the entire trip.  This is one of the few times in my life I actually REALLY regret doing something.  I wish I had never gone down there.  I don't know if it's because I told him, because I had expectations of him, or if it's because I started liking him more than I intended (and more than he intended), but a royal pile of crap is now following me wherever I go.  He is no longer speaking to me, and I thought we were friends.  I tried to apologize, but he didn't respond to that.  And it's killing me.   Did I do the right thing?  Right now, it looks like no.  A big, fat, no.