Moving: A Short Play in One Very Short Act

(Two characters, one lady, one man, sit outside on the porch behind their apartment. They have just come from the post office where, having made it there just before five o' clock, they discovered that their bathroom scale was wildly inaccurate, and that the large totes they had lugged into the post office from the truck did not weigh what they previously thought. The weight limit on shipping was seventy pounds; the final tote, the lightest tote on which any hope of success rested 'neath their sweaty hands, was seventy pounds, six ounces).

Lady: This sucks.
Man: Yes.
Lady: (takes a drag from her cigarette, takes a swig from her diet coke, sputters, manages not to spit up on herself) What if... what if we weren't moving.
Man: We are moving.
Lady: Yes.
Man: We're moving tomorrow. Like, tomorrow we have to be moved.

(pause. Man takes a drag from his cigarette).

Man: You know what's great about moving?
Lady: What? (takes another sip of soda)
Man: Nothing.

(Lady does spit up on self, just a little).

Lady: What if... what if instead of moving, we just had foursomes all the time?
Man: That's what we've been doing.
Lady: Yes, but...
Man: That's why... that's why today is... today.
Lady: So... so there's not some magical equation where we have lots of awesome sex and then the apartment is empty?
Man: Nope.
Lady: Okay...
Man: Wait!
Lady: Yes?! Yes?

(pause. Man thinks hard).

Man: (shakes his head) Nope. Thought I had it. Nope.

(long pause)

Lady: Yeah, okay.

(both look wistfully into the setting sun).

END

Further Thoughts on Herpes

one of the first results googling "herpes is great!"
(exclamation point included)

Because what else do I ever have to talk about? Plenty, sometimes, but as of late, this is a mine that still warrants more delving.

Brief disclaimer before we go under: I've disappeared for a while lately. That'll be the case for a little while longer, because in a few days, Jamie and I are moving states and jobs and basically our whole lives. One of the things this means for me is full-time writing, so in a fews weeks, more regular updates again (I hope).

Speaking of Jamie and I, another brief disclaimer: we're engaged! That's a story for another time, but it's a pretty good one, and applicable subject matter to this blog too (the ring is fucking perfect, in so many different ways).

So: the herpes. Oh, herpes. Right.

Last night, Jamie and I played with some new people. I haven't talked to them yet about what's okay to disclose, or what the privacy stipulations are about our shenanigans (which we totally should have talked about, but didn't, so for now, I'm erring on the the far side of caution). For this post, all you really need to know is that they're humans, and they're excellent. As with every new sexual partner I'll have for the rest of my life, we came around to the subject of herpes. It's helpful for me to practice talking to new people about it, although talking with Jamie today about talking with these humans last night, I realize I'm learning new things all the time, and that even when I think I've got this whole sex-positive STD-having racket figured out... well, I don't. Not even a little bit.

Going into last night, I didn't really know what the boundaries of these other humans were going to be, but I was pretty sure about my own preferences: while I trust them as educated adults, and while I know (I know!) they have the capacity to make adult decisions about their own sexual health, I wasn't sure I was ready to take on, for myself, the possibility of passing herpes on to one (or both) of them. I wanted to keep my pants on, although I was good with anyone else's pants coming off. And that's basically what I said. They asked me what kind of measures Jamie and I took, with the herpes, and we told them. Basically: I'd like to be on suppressive meds, but I can't afford them (acyclovir without a prescription is fucking expensive), and because of all the reasons previously discussed (we're in it for the long haul, herpes isn't actually such a horrible life-ruining kraken, we've talked a ton, etc), we don't use condoms. I answered some other questions, and I felt pretty comfortable doing so. At the time, I thought this was just me getting more comfortable talking about it, but looking back (a whole twenty four hours later, wow!), I'm not sure that's all it was.

I'm not sure I'm being totally honest with myself about the reasons behind my own boundaries ("I'm game to do whatever, but I'd like to keep my pants [skirt] on, please"). Just looking at that language, it's telling: I'm not ready to take on doing something to someone else. Which isn't what's happening. I'm not doing anything to anyone; they're making the choice, one way or the other, to take a risk or not. Sure, I can have acceptance issues with that, and self-worth issues with that, but I don't think that's all it is either.

Part of it, I think, is that these humans are not humans I'm dating. I was dating a guy for a while (who I'm not longer dating, and more on that later, maybe) with whom I talked a lot about herpes, and he came to a conclusion, after a bit, that he was ready and willing to take that risk (and excited about the activities that risk opened up). And while we didn't get around to PIV sex, nor oral sex from him to me (so, his risks considered, it was pretty much nil), I think I was more comfortable with someone I was dating taking the risk, rather than someone I was just sleeping with.

Jamie asked me, just now, if I could imagine a scenario in which I would be comfortable with someone risking getting herpes, from me, if we were just fucking, or if it was a one-off encounter, or if it was otherwise not the dating-type-scenario. And there totally is, which was surprising, and in my head it had everything to do with that person's (or people's) reaction. I can imagine, upon disclosing that I have herpes, someone saying "Yup, sure, been there, done that," or "Oh, type one or type two?" or "Oh, my last partner had type one orally, funny story." I don't think it's as much an attitude thing as it is an information thing.

I'm not comfortable being both herpes educator, and herpes sex-partner, at the same time.

It would be fine for me if someone made the decision to sleep with me, and to potentially contract herpes from me, if they were already (and obviously) well educated about the STD. If I knew that they knew what they were getting into.

I don't know how much of that discomfort is bunk, or how much of it is legitimate. The conflict comes, for me, in the different emotional approaches I have to each... I don't know, herpes role? I have in my life. Herpes character. Herpes superhero! There will be illustrations shortly (there have to be, now. Hurray).

The Herpes Educator is passionate, straight forward, and talks a lot about practical risks, about statistics, about societal stigma and myths that need deconstructing. The Herpes Educator comes at herpes from the angle of "Herpes is an STD, and you have it for your whole life, but it's a lot less frightening than you, non-educated herpes person, have been lead to believe your whole life. Here's some sex-positivity and a dose of realism that isn't usually associated with herpes."

The Herpes Sex Partner is a little more... personal. Vulnerable? Nervous, maybe. It's important for her that the people taking risks with her are extremely aware and educated about those risks. It's important that they understand that they are taking a risk. That herpes is something that, if they get it, they will have for the rest of their lives. It's still a little unbelievable to her that people (even Jamie) would take that risk. It's also extremely important to her that there be space, lots and lots of space, and maybe time, for people to make whatever decision is best for them. That her desire for touching and sucking and fucking not have any bearing on that decision. It can be an enthusiasm tricky to box, but I do try to box it, to make that most-important space.

And those two don't go well together, really. It's super hard to say, in one breath: "Herpes isn't so bad! Really! Hurray Herpes! Facts Facts Statistics Herpes, if they can't do it, nobody can!" and in the next breath say: "I want you take all the space you need, and I'm fine with whatever decision you want to make, and this is an important decision, and I understand that."

It's hard both because they conflict, and also because I don't think I trust myself to be unbiased. That's a tough one, a really tough one. To think that I'm someone's only source of herpes knowledge, and to trust myself to present the STD in a way that leaves a completely neutral ground for whatever decision they might make: that's not something I think I can do. Or, that's not a combination of those roles I'm comfortable with yet. But that's maybe the big, deep whopper that's gonna sit and lurk a while.

So, for now, I just sort of... forgo the second one, I guess. Or, in preemptively not giving people that choice, I avoid the second one. So that I can be herpes-sex-educator to the max. It feels safe, and responsible. It is safe and responsible. It's also kind of shitty, for me.

And here's the part where I get all selfish about it. Because while it was comfortable and safe and great to keep my pants on last night, there were also moments where I really, really wanted to take my pants off. There were moments where I really wanted to be touched, and I wanted people to touch me, those people, those humans. It's my own doing that they didn't, and I appreciate beyond saying how respectful and great they were about it. I think it shows how far I've come, since first getting the STD, that I can even kiss someone (who's not Jamie) without feeling like an infected pustule of a person. But it's still sort of... Sad. It's sad that I can't let someone choose that. I didn't even want anyone touching me with their hands, which is essentially a risk-free activity, which maybe should have been a tip-off, in terms of there-is-something-else-going-on-here-shenanigans.

So, what's the moral? I don't know. Practice. Patience and practice and all the things that have gotten me this far. Part of it, I think, is doing some thinking and coming to terms with the moment of someone saying "I'm not willing to do that," and feeling like I could still have a good time if that was the answer. And all of this for a really good reason, I think. It's not about being the perfect herpes-having person, and it's not about being what other people want or need or prefer. Mostly, it's because taking my pants of is really fucking fun.

To taking my pants off more often, then. Or at least being able to ask people if they'd like to take them off for me.