How I Dodged Herpes

Most people don’t look like they are carrying an STD. Even during a Herpes outbreak, there are tons of ways to disguise sores, whether on your mouth or underneath your drawers.

The fact is: people with herpes look like anyone else. Healthy, physically fit, attractive.

For this particular man, attractive was an understatement. He looked delicious. He was suave, charming and confident. Tall with flawless light skin, chinky eyes and dimples. He had a mega-watt smile that could make a prison guard melt. And smelled like heaven.

We met at a house party in NYC in the dead of winter. I wore a sexy knit red dress, leaning seductively against the wall. I was on my second homemade margarita when he approached me.

In a manner more abrasive than I’m used to, he stood beside me, leaned over until we were face-to-face and announced he was taking me to dinner. It was the kind of forward attitude that said that he was the object of desire for plenty of women, and wasn’t used to hearing ‘No.’

His gesture fell somewhere between brazenly arrogant and irresistibly suave. He was full of himself, sure, but there’s something sexy about a man who goes after what he wants. And all he wanted was to give me a free meal, right? Right.

So, I gave him my number.

We spoke on the phone soon after and I found his wisdom, humor and drive even more attractive than his looks.

Problem? We knew all the same people. My best friend’s roommate went to college with him. His favorite co-worker? I met her at a networking event and we’ve been meaning to hang out ever since.

If NYC is a small world, we were on the same continent. And I didn’t like it.

Immediately, I could see that entertaining him would have its challenges. But I try not to write people off because of things, like mutual friends, that they can’t control. I considered that dating him could still be rewarding.

Until…I did some investigating.

First, I turned to social networking sites like Facebook. The number of women throwing their panties at him was enough to fill two Jodeci concerts. A list of comments like “You always look sexy.” “I can’t wait to see that smile in person again,” “What I would to do to those lips” and “Damn, I remember the good times we had” followed every picture, at least twenty per photograph.

And then, I turned to my friends, who I feared knew him already. I was right.

Moonlight had a crush on him since back in the summer when she met him at a street fair. And Flashing Lights had several girlfriends whom he had played, slept with or was still pursuing. Even they flirted heavily with each other, but she would never date him.

“Why?” I pried.

“Because he gets around, and I don’t date guys who are nasty whores.”

Well, that didn’t make any sense. She had dated plenty of guys who had dated plenty of women. It’s NYC. Everyone’s a whore.

“Who cares? I’m not marrying him,” I responded. “Just looking for someone to go to the movies with.”

“Well do what you want to do. Just be careful.”

Hmm…something was wrong, something more than him “getting around.”

Maybe she heard rumors he swings both ways. Or maybe they hooked up in the past. I wasn’t sure what, but I knew she was hiding something.

Despite my better judgment, I went out with him anyway…a couple of times. Movies, dinner, bowling, the works.

But every time he tried to kiss me, Flashing Lights’ judgment would play in my head. Nasty whore. I’d turn my face. “Let’s just take things slow,” I told him.

He clearly thought I was playing hard to get, so when I turned down his advances, it only made him want me more.

A month later, Flashing Lights, Mr. Herpes and I all ended up being together for the first time at a mutual friend’s going away party. He and I were close enough that he could touch the back of my neck, but we weren’t speaking.

On our last date, he came on way too strong, almost yelling at me for not letting him “even get a kiss.” Since then, I dodged his calls and texts like the plague, and he was not happy about it. Finally, he came over to me and said as much.

I explained I was busy with work, trying to avoid making a scene.

“Listen, I don’t know what I did to turn you off, but I think we could be good together,” was his response. “Give me a chance.”

I obliged to get him to walk away…and he did. Right to another girl at my table who he, incidentally, could not get his hands and lips off of.

Wow. What a dog!

The girl he was making out with happened to be a friend of Flashing Lights, and after seeing them kiss, she went into a frenzy.

“Go make her stop kissing him,” she said to me. “Confront him and break them up.”

“Girl, I could care less that they’re kissing. He’s not my man, not even someone I’m dating. Not my business.”

“No, you have to make them stop,” she said. Something about the urgency in her tone bothered me.

I pulled her by the arm and walked her outside the party. “Why does it matter so much to you? Are you sleeping with him?”

“Look, he has herpes,” she said. “I know, because two of my friends hooked up with him and were left with nothing but tears and Valtrex prescriptions.”

My mouth dropped to the floor. I was in shock. I didn’t know whether to be mad at her for not telling me sooner, or thankful that my intuition stopped me from kissing him.

Needless to say, I never spoke to him again. But the fact that he recklessly spreads Herpes to people still bothers me to this day.

48% of black women have Herpes, according to a recent study. 48%! That’s almost 1 out of every 2 women. Those odds are terrifying…but not surprising.

If an attractive man like the one I dated has herpes, and kisses/sleeps with several girls, it makes sense that the disease would spread like wildfire among us women.

And it’s rare that a potential partner will be open to you about the fact that he or she has Herpes. In fact, I read on ESSENCE.com that one man kept his boxers on during sex to hide his outbreak from his partner.

How to avoid it? Demand that your partner get tested and show you his/her results on letterhead. Your health depends on it.

And always do your research. It saved me from an STD, and a lot of heartbreak.