“You don’t have herpes, do you? You don’t look like a herpes girl,” he said, grinning.
Yikes. I couldn’t find the courage to tell him that he had insulted me to my face. I swallowed my pride and dropped it.
I don’t do that anymore. Now whenever someone asks for a sip of my drink, I tell them that I do have herpes but not worry about it.
Interestingly enough, my once shame-filled secret is now my go-to conversation starter.