The moment I noticed that a concaved little red blister had crawled its way onto the shaft of my penis, I did what any reasonable man in the 21st century would do… I googled the fuck out of it. This, as you might imagine, was a bad move.
Here is a roundup of the things you’ll find:
1. Images of intense genital herpes outbreaks that look little to nothing like what you’re seeing;
2. An array of paid-for-advertisements for herpes medication (awkwardly targeting baseball players, for some reason);
3. Increasingly sterile and scary medical articles talking about all of the various symptoms you’re likely to experience now that you’ve got herpes;
4. Reddit threads full of worst-case-scenario stories by people reacting to the news in, well, the worst possible way.
For those who don’t know how the internet works, the reasons for this are obvious. The internet is always trying to sell you something – and what could be more profitable than shilling bad advice and secretly delivered medication to scared people afflicted by a rash so egregiously stigmatized that the only place they have to turn is the anonymity of the internet?
All I wanted to see was at least one article that said, “You’ve got genital herpes. So what?”
All I wanted to see was at least one article that said, “You’ve got genital herpes. So what?”
So here I am, writing it. After three months of living with the herpes simplex virus – HSV-2, to be precise – this is what I should have found when I went looking for answers…
So, you’ve found some bumps and think it might be herpes—you Google Image way more penises than you were expecting to be scrutinizing that day (or, possibly, ever) and think, “Wait—well, it doesn’t look exactly like that! Maybe I don’t have it!”
Calm down, calm down. You probably do. I say that because my fun spots looked nothing like anything on Google Images, and I definitely do. I mean, that or I’ve got a real trickster for a doctor.
Alright, you’ve got genital herpes. Just go with that—worst case, you’re right, best case, you’re relieved. Much better than the other way around. Now, first thing to know, the person you’ve most recently slept with might not have given it to you. It’s possible that it lay dormant in your body for months, or even years. So, keep your panties on. (No, really, panties—silk, if you can. Friction, oof.)
The worst thing you can do is start blaming someone. Maybe you’re the type who has made sure both parties were tested before “doin’ it” and always wore a condom your whole life… but I doubt it. That’s why 87 percent of people with herpes probably don’t even know it—yeah, really. So, it could literally happen to anyone. Maybe not a nun, but you get my point.
After getting the news from my doctor, all I wanted was some answers. All I got was long-winded serious articles about making sure I use condoms and seek therapy.
It may not be a replacement for therapy but here’s what helped me:
First of all, you’re not gonna die. Second, we’re like a decade away from a cure. Third (yes, there’s more), loads of people have herpes. Like, proper loads. Estimates for oral herpes stand at around two-thirds of the world’s population, while prevalence of the genital herpes virus stands somewhere between 12 and 13 percent, more than one out of every 10 people. There are so many people infected with the herpes simplex virus, that for better or for worse, there are even dedicated herpes dating sites.
Fun fact: did you know that when you get tested for another possible STI, most doctors won’t test for herpes because it's so common that a positive HSV test could do more psychological harm than societal good? Unless you have symptoms, the stress of a positive result probably ain’t worth it. As told to my partner by her doctor the day she got tested.
Most doctors won’t test for herpes because so many people have it that a positive HSV test could do more psychological harm than societal good.
What this really comes down to is that society is a bag of dicks—and I’m talking way worse than the herpes kind. Because collectively we think, “Ew, sex,” and—for some reason—decided a dick rash is more gross than a mouth rash. Or a face rash. Or a body rash. Or any rash, really.
The worst part about having herpes so far for me has been standing in the hot dog section of Stop & Shop, seeing a package of ‘Uncured Wieners’ and not being able to text anyone: “Lol, I’ve got one of those!” That’s because very few people know I have it; namely, my partner, my doctor, and my friend who, on the day, said, “AHHH!” when I pulled my penis out in traffic after picking him up from the airport to ask if he thought it might be herpes.
Yes, the rash hurts. Yes, you’ll have to take some medication. Yes, you will need to be open with partners in the future. But none of that hurts more than the way being infected with HSV can make you feel entirely isolated, even as one of millions infected. I’ve been lucky enough to have a partner I love who also has it. I’m well fucked and in my thirties. I’m good. But if I’d been young—18, 20, even 25—and all I had was an internet full of bad advice, vague answers and trolls, I would’ve been devastated.
If I’d been young—18, 20, even 25—and all I had was an internet full of bad advice, vague answers and trolls, I would’ve been devastated.
So, if you’ve got it, here’s my first piece of advice: tell someone. Hell, you can even tell me. Tell someone so, at the very least, when you’re having to gingerly masturbate away the most painful boner of your life, you can step out of the shower, show your friend, and laugh when they ask, "Hey, have you ever seen The Walking Dead?" Because you’ll survive… and soon you’ll forget you even have it. But if you can’t laugh, it’ll take a lot longer to come to the realization that society is the problem, not this silly rash.
Podcast Transcript: