Notes From a Former Chill Girl: Sex After a Herpes Diagnosis
By MLNP Ambassador Tricia Wise
Getting genital herpes was the best thing to happen to me — said no one ever, right? Wrong! I say this all the time and it’s exactly how I feel. Of course, as expected, getting an incurable STI was probably one of the most traumatic experiences I’ve ever had. In addition to the painful outbreak and flu-like symptoms, I had to deal with the fact that my sex life was now over. Or so I thought. Navigating my life as a celibate person was not exactly my plan as a 25 year old, but here we were. Little did I know that this virus was going to change my life for the better.
Immediately after I was diagnosed, I spent hours and hours googling everything there was to know about genital herpes (while simultaneously bawling my eyes out and listening to Mitksi). Turns out, the societal stigma surrounding herpes was actually the most painful part about having herpes (and let me tell you, those outbreaks can be a real bitch). There’s so much shame that comes with having an STI. Whatever sex education you had growing up (if any), I can almost guarantee that you were shown graphic images of the most intense cases of various types of STIs. This was used as a form of fear mongering to make us think getting an STI is the worst possible thing. For most people, outbreaks are barely noticeable (and in MOST, like about 85%, cases, people are asymptomatic so they are unaware they even have herpes).
As a society, we were taught to say no to having sex with people like me. We were not taught how to handle getting an STI at some point in your life, which is almost inevitable if you are sexually active. Wouldn’t it be far more effective if we had conversations about how to go about getting treated and learn how to manage an STI instead of pretending we aren’t the type of person that it would ever happen to? In our sex education, we were not given proper information about sex and sexual health. Our society has so much shame and stigma surrounding our sexuality, which is really not chic. It is embarrassing for all of us.
In reality, STIs are not a punishment for having sex from God or whoever (shoutout to my Catholic guilt). Getting an STI is normal- it’s simply a part of what comes with being sexually active. We can do the most to prevent it, but with sex, there is always a risk. This is why there is only safer sex, not safe sex (ex. you can still get genital herpes when using condoms because it is spread through skin to skin contact rather than fluids so there’s no real guarantee).
I had my first outbreak in November 2019, just a few months before the pandemic hit. A big thing I struggled with during my diagnosis was casual sex — could I ever have a one night stand again? The thought of disclosing as we’re leaving the bar or before a tinder dude comes over seemed like it would be awkward and really ruin the moment. Having to give a lesson on sexual health and STI transmission rates didn’t really seem like ideal foreplay to me. Would that person I just met even be down to possibly risk getting herpes when they barely even know me? I figured I’d eventually find someone to date who wouldn’t care but what if I just wanted to get dicked tf down? Casual sex came so easily to me before, but now the idea of meeting potential hookups at bars and parties was terrifying. Luckily, I was able to have a few hookups where I, half-drunk and nervously, stumbled over my words disclosing that I had herpes. Much to my surprise, these people weren’t judgemental — they were just uninformed. After a few minutes of rambling off some facts, they grabbed a condom and we were good to go. Woohoo! Panicking the morning after my first time post herpes because I convinced myself I transmitted to the guy, I messaged him to ask how he felt about the night before and if he was nervous about getting it. He responded that he was more concerned with getting to work on time than if I gave him herpes. Loves it.
By mid March, quarantine in Boston was in full effect, and although I had some hookups under my belt, I was still struggling. I was left to really sit with my feelings surrounding my diagnosis. In addition to fearing disclosure convos with future partners, I was also terrified to touch myself. I had a general feeling of disgust towards my body, which is a huge bummer, especially during a time where all you want is an orgasm. I was terrified of transmitting herpes to other parts of my body (this mainly really only happens during your initial outbreak before your body has built up some antibodies). I used to leave a bottle of isopropyl alcohol (this was when sanitizer was sold out everywhere lol) next to my bed, so I could IMMEDIATELY sanitize my hands after masturbating if I could even gather up the courage to do so. A few weeks after I was diagnosed, my roommate/bff was an amazing support system and went with me to our local sex shop where we both purchased matching vibrators. It definitely took me a few months to have the courage to finally use it — but once I finally masturbated for the first time since getting herpes, I was like, oh yeah I really am that bitch. If you are newly diagnosed, I highly recommend treating yourself to a fancy new sex toy.
Being unemployed during quarantine left me with even more time to reflect on my previous relationships, hookups, and sexuality. How did I get to this point? It brought back a lot of memories of being slut-shamed in high school;Were they all right and did I deserve this lifelong virus? Thinking about my relationships/situationships before and after I got herpes, I noticed a stark difference. Before I got herpes, I wanted so badly to be perceived as the “chill” girl (because you know, I’m not like all the other girls, right?). As long as the guy thought I was cool, we were good. I was constantly obsessing over what my hookups and partners thought of me — it was honestly really exhausting.
I had a hard time talking about things that I didn’t like or made me uncomfortable because I wanted to seem so blasé — whether it was emotional or physical. I literally spent a year and a half in a situationship with a guy who refused to go down on me (and refused to date me). When we broke it off, he offered me a bottle of whiskey to make up for his lack of oral…lol, yikes. One guy, (who *I think* gave me herpes) pulled the typical “the condom doesn’t feel good,” and “see, it doesn’t fit but it’s okay because I’m ‘clean,’” and I was like yup, no condom, no problem, I’m *cool,* I’m *chill.* On my walk home the next morning, I frantically made an appt at my gyno to go get tested.
A guy I was almost a year into a committed relationship with told me he made a Tinder just to see what else was out there, and I just let it go, figuring it was my fault for not being interesting enough. A few months after I first moved to Boston, I was hooking up with a guy I just met at a club, and after a while, I realized he was filming it, without my consent. I made him delete it, but instead of kicking him out immediately I let him finish (thankfully I did use a condom here!). And one time, I did a nude photoshoot as a six-month anniversary gift and left the photos on the dude’s bed as a surprise — I received no response from him about it and he never brought it up (when in my head I was like why are you not worshipping me or at the very least why didn’t I even get a “thx 4 the pics they were v hot” text???). I continued to date him for four more months. You get the point — my early twenties were a hot mess. Boundaries? I don’t know her.
In those relationships, my pleasure wasn’t centered — ever. Even in masturbation, it was a quick under five minutes sesh with my vibrator. I’ll admit, sometimes we need to just bang one out — but I never took the time to really explore and spend time self-lovin’. With partners, I was too scared to ask for what I wanted and too embarrassed to bring my vibrator or other sex toys with me. Oh, and don’t even ask about faking my orgasms, we all know that was part of the ploy. I usually would go home in the morning and finish by myself.
With a herpes diagnosis, you are pretty much forced into learning how to be vulnerable, how to set boundaries, and how to have good communication skills. Now, when I have sex with a partner, I have to disclose my herpes status (disclosure equals consent, my friends!) and explain what it looks like to have sex with someone who is herpes positive — which can feel pretty daunting when being newly diagnosed. I used to disclose with paragraph long texts of why and how and who and what and when. It was a lot. Instead of apologizing and overcompensating, I now disclose with confidence. I keep it simple and sweet, while opening up the conversation for any questions. If you are confident about your status, people will pick up on that energy! I also learned it’s pretty important to also ask my potential partner’s sexual health history and not just mine. (Herpes pro-tip — start your disclosing conversation by asking your partner when they have last been tested, it helps take the pressure off you for a second!).
These conversations are what I 100% should have been having in the first place (please do not wait until you get an STI to learn the importance of talking about sexual health before having sex with a new partner). So instead of the usual “you clean?” “yeah, you?” kinda conversation, it’s time to start having actual conversations about sexual health. If someone isn’t able to do so, they probably shouldn’t be having sex anyways. I used to be terrified of these situations, but now I love being in such a vulnerable state; I’ve found it makes my partner and I, whether that is someone I am dating or a one night stand, feel like we can be more open and vulnerable with each other in all aspects. I’ve also noticed partners are more likely to talk about any kinks or just what turns them on in general because they just feel so much more comfortable.
I also want to note that rejection because of a herpes diagnosis sucks, I’m not going to lie. I was ghosted the first time I disclosed my status, which felt pretty terrible. But it did teach me if someone is not that into you or if I’m getting half-assed attention, move the fuck on. If it’s not a hell yes from them, it’s a hell no from me. An upside to having herpes is that it really weeds out the assholes. People who are not willing to learn how sooo common genital herpes is and how actually NBD it is and instead make fun of me, get grossed out, or ghost me — most definitely are not the kinds of people that I want to fuck anyways! Of course, everyone should be able to decide if they want to still sleep with me or not, but if they’re not even willing to take the time to learn and stay in their blissful ignorance, then good riddance! These rejections are a redirection to something better!
Getting herpes led me to a genuine I don’t give a fuck attitude, as opposed to my previous very chill but actually not chill at all state. I have no qualms or embarrassments about pulling out a vibrator or sex toy or saying exactly what I like during sex. I am able to say “no” when I feel uncomfortable. In fact, it’s now my favorite thing to say. I feel so much more comfortable having open conversations about what I’m feeling and my what my needs are in a romantic situation because I know I deserve to have my needs met (ex. if I want something more than just a friends with benefits thing with someone, I will communicate that — and if the feeling isn’t mutual, goodbye!). Barrier methods are non negotiable — we are done with the “condoms don’t fit me” bullshit. It is literally so easy for me to talk about that now — because it’s my health and if someone wants to fuck me but doesn’t give a shit about my sexual health, let alone theirs, I don’t want to fuck them anyways. Sashay tf away.
Most importantly, I learned the importance of self love. I don’t mean the typical spa day and #SelfCareSunday kinda thing (although those are great and I will literally never say no to a facial or massage), but genuinely spending and enjoying time with myself. I began to understand how important it is to have a pleasure practice, especially one that involves more than just using my Magic Wand for 2.5 minutes. My self pleasure has become so important that it is now a nightly ritual for me. I’ve experimented and explored my body far more than ever now that I am herpes positive. I feel so much more in tune with my body, whether that is sexually or knowing when I’m wearing myself too thin (I get outbreaks when I’m super stressed and overworked so it’s a great reminder that I probably just need to relax and masturbate).
Now I’m not saying go out and get an incurable STI. But for some of you, it’s going to happen. And as much as society will tell you otherwise, a herpes diagnosis does not define you nor does it make you dirty, damaged goods — you are still completely worthy of pleasure, sex, hookups, love — you deserve it all. So, welcome to the club, get ready to level tf up.
Books that Really Helped me Post Herpes Diagnosis
- Pussy: A Reclamation by Regina Thomashauer
- Radical Self Love by Gala Darling
- Sex for One: The Joy of Self Loving by Betty Dodson
- Live, Love, and Thrive with Herpes by Dr Kelly Martin Shuh
- Witches, Sluts, Feminists by Kristen Korvette
- What a Time to Be Alone by Chidera Eggerue
- Come as You Are by Emily Nagoski
Want more Tricia content? Check out her other blog post to learn more about her journey navigating an STI diagnosis and become a member for all the latest updates on Tricia and other amazing MLNP ambassadors!
