Alright, it’s been a while since I’ve had any dating activity in my life. I’ve taken a break in the last few months due to grad school, searching for a new job, extreme exhaustion, etc. It’s been a much needed break from the craziness of dating in D.C., and until I start back up, I’ll fill the lack of posts on this blog with a story that I never posted from back in January of this year.
I met “Ron” when I was out with some friends a little under two years ago. He had the perfect personality and was incredibly sexy. For several months, we snapchatted each other and send texts back and forth, but I would only see him once in a while because he was “so busy with work”, which is really just code for “I’m going to make the effort to see you only when I want to get my dick wet”. Eventually I started seeing other people, but one night I ran into him at a bar. He approached me and we started talking like we hadn’t gone four months without speaking to one another. Now, I had slept with this man before finding out about my HSV, so of course it was a little awkward when he asked me to come over and I had to divulge that I was now HSV-positive…but I did it. The response that I got from him was, “why would you waste my time? I left my friends to talk to you….what were you expecting from this?”.
As an HSV-positive individual, I expect that 99% of the people I date will not be understanding of my condition, but I don’t usually expect that from the people who actually know me. My gut reaction was to slap him across the face, but I’m a responsible adult and I know better than that. So instead, I gave him a death stare, grabbed my purse, and walked away.
I wish I could say I didn’t go home and cry. I wish I could say I didn’t scrub myself raw in the shower out of pure disgust with myself. I wish I could say I didn’t devour my weight in taquitos from 7-11. But I did.
But then I woke up the next morning, picked myself up, and snapped out of my depression. And then I received and responded to the following message from Ron:
Never in my life have I felt so fucking avenged. Sending that text made me feel so empowered that, since that day, I have not apologized for being who I am. I’m proud of my “peach”, which is what my friends like to call my vagina (yes they’ve seen it). It looks just like any other vagina, orgasms just like any other vagina, and rides a penis probably better than any other vagina.
So thanks for being such a jackass Ron, you make me better.