Am I allowed to be angry at the person who gave me herpes?

A personal reflection on anger, betrayal, and healing

I won’t lie to you. After the devastation, fear, and anxiety following my herpes diagnosis subsided, a new emotion took hold — rage.

I had so many questions, but one burned hotter than the rest: How could he do this to me?

To tell this story in full transparency, let’s rewind to 2015.

Photo by Vinicius Löw on Unsplash

The Diagnosis That Changed Everything

A Year of Hope

2015 was a year of great promise for me. I graduated with honors from college, having completed graduate-level archival research as an undergrad. As a Gender and Sexuality Studies major, I was accustomed to the judgment that came with questions like, “What are you going to do with that?” when asked about my career trajectory.

These doubt-laden remarks fueled me. I knew I had a greater purpose and felt compelled to make it happen — and I did. After securing a prestigious summer internship and finalizing my last semester, I felt on top of the world — at least, as much as any twenty-something recent grad could.

Until it all fell apart that day in July.

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The Day Everything Changed

The details of my herpes diagnosis aren’t that different from other women’s. The denial (I’m not that type of girl), fear (who would ever want me?), and dwindling sense of hope (but what if it really is herpes?) were all present and further compounded when I received the doctor’s visual confirmation.

“This looks herpetic.”

I mustered the courage to tell the only person I was sleeping with at the time — for purposes of this story, we’ll call him Chad* — that it was undoubtedly from him based on my medical history and recent tests.

Whenever you tell someone you’re sleeping with that you need to talk or have something time-sensitive to share, their mind immediately jumps to what society considers ‘negative’ outcomes of sex: pregnancy (depending on your partner) and sexually transmitted infections (STIs).

Chad immediately thought I was pregnant and seemed slightly relieved when he found out it was just an STI. He was kind, caring, and seemed to say all the right things. He was previously in the U.S. military and told me he had never tested positive for herpes.

Chad was someone I knew and trusted. He was someone I shared a spark with, and now, herpes, apparently.

How Herpes Altered Our Connection

The Night I Stopped Being a Ghost

People with herpes tend to share similar diagnosis stories and emotions, but the way we process these experiences can vary widely, and doesn’t always unfold in the way we hope or expect.

Initially, my diagnosis felt like a strange, poetic kind of intimacy that deepened our connection. But as the summer waned, so did our fleeting romance, leaving me to grapple with not just herpes, but a shattered sense of self and the shadow of an almost-love.

Chad and I lived in the same small town that summer — absent of traffic lights, but full of neighbors five miles away who somehow knew everything about you.

Thanksgiving Eve at one of the only bars in town. The air was thick with the smell of beer and warmth of old friends. Chad didn’t even say hello. He didn’t acknowledge me. I felt invisible to him, or at least that’s what he wanted me to be — a ghost.

I decided I needed an answer about us, which meant I had to make myself known. As I confronted him amidst the town’s alcoholic haze, my heart pounded.

“I'm not trying to make this a couple thing tonight,” he whispered. I backed off, but a few beers later, he was in my bed at the end of the night. The last night we spent together, I told him to stop being such an asshole. He fucked me and said he had somewhere to be the next morning. A meeting with his school, a school he would never attend. A free education he chose not to pursue.

I told him, "I'm not the girl you fuck and leave. Don't make me her." And for once, he listened.

From my article on Elite Daily

The truth is, I already knew what his answer would be when I approached him. I just wanted Chad to say it. I wanted him—needed him— to be honest about something, anything.

The next morning, I woke up to a Snapchat message from Chad. As our relationship had been dissolving, so had our correspondence, so admittedly, I was curious — especially after our encounter the night before.

The message I received was even more of a reality check than the bar confrontation — he was breaking up with me over Snapchat.