Dating with genital wart

And my signature look was to wear rhinestones with my eye makeup—jewels glued next to my eyes or on my cheeks. Bored and depressed in my hot pink studio, I decided to make a new look.

Using stick-on heart shaped jewels, I “vagazzled” myself, covering the warts.

”It took a month or two of telling myself “that’s not what it is!

If you are going to have sex, you need to use protection, if you don’t then blah blah blah. My lab results were in—and in addition to the lovely genital warts, I also had chlamydia.

The doctor was perfectly nice, but the voices in my head remained. But I wasn’t actually a slut until college when I embraced pro-sex feminism a little blindly, veering more towards hedonism. The abstinence-only education I received in school in no way prepared me for the real life sex I would have—sometimes unprotected when drunk and sloppy or sober and shy. My friends weren’t much help either, laughing or leaving an awkward silence between us as I told them what was going on.

And I couldn’t stand the thought of any more of her stinging comments. Doctor Dan hung out in the sushi bar where I worked.

He sipped Mai Tais and stumbled from the bar to the men’s room, frequently, doing lines on the sink.

I could not imagine saying: “I can’t, I have an STI.” This is where me-now feels sad.

Because STIs could be a positive thing—a force of good change.

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