The summer I contracted herpes was kind of a 'letting loose' time for me. There was a bar practically in my back yard... all I had to do was walk across a field to it. I never could drink much, a couple beers would do me under. But I did enjoy being part of a group of people in there. No drugs, I was always too chicken, and always thought drugs were a real waste of life. So, I guess it was really my fault when I went to bed with a man and he told me after we'd had sex that he had herpes, and that he was "sorry, but it seems to be active". That was on a Saturday night. I cried right up until I got in my doctor's office the following Monday.

There have been many other times of crying ...my relationship with a man who also had herpes, started in 1986. He was an alcoholic who tried to stay sober by doing other drugs. I had enough and ended the relationship in 1996.

I met and fell in love with another man in 1997 who also had herpes. He was a resident manager at a popular motel on the Boardwalk in Seaside Heights, New Jersey. We had decided that we would someday have our own front porch, with rocking chairs close enough to each other that we could hold hands as we watched sunrises and sunsets. We'd connected mind-wise, through hearts and souls, and touch-wise. We'd been together a little over a year when he died of colen cancer. He only lived 3 months after finding out that he had cancer.

I cry for the loss of the lifetime I wanted with him.

Almost halfway through the year until I will turn 60... I'm wondering if I might ever take another chance of finding love again. I'm thinking it may never be the same again...

how could it ever be ... herpes is something that no one else wants. I'd never wish it on anyone, not even my worst enemy. It might be that I've turned out to be my worst enemy.