The Time I Nearly Got Herpes…

…And slept with my brother (figurative brother obviously)…

Hello dear readers! Firstly yes, I’m very late (again), I gave myself a sabbatical. Going on all these dates, having so much small talk and dealing with fabric cockrings is genuinely exhausting. In a perfect world I would have told you this before hand but like Lindsay Lohan’s accent, I like to come and go as I please (finally a contemporary pop culture reference…) apologises aside let’s get on to this months theme, infidelity…

Now astute readers will know that I never dabble with taken men and that I’m a filthy liar… I’m sorry but I’m not going to apologise for a guy’s mistakes, you want to cheat on someone well that is terrible but I don’t see why I should lose out too. “But imagine it was you he was cheating on!” I hear you cry, well I’d cut his fucking balls off and send him packing, however I would never demonise the person they slept with. I know it sounds weird but lynching the mistress is just excusing a man’s actions, these people aren’t crazy succubuses (succubi?) with magical vaginas, your (ex)boyfriend is just an immature prick.

Kissing her brother and a double mastectomy? Such a tease…


I do disagree with a long-standing affair with the aim of replacing a girlfriend, mostly because I hate indecisive men and its crazy to wait for someone to choose you. Choose yourself a man with some balls and buy a cake and eat it, because that’s what the guy stringing you along is doing (was that empowering? I feel like it was…)

How does this relate to my life? Well I’ve had a couple of run-ins with partnered people this month and I felt I had to explain my actions slightly. Firstly, no I don’t feel bad about it, check above. Secondly I have no desire to be in a relationship with someone when I have to game of thrones style swindle my way onto his iron cock (that metaphor made me gag a bit). So why do I put myself in these situation where I’m potentially ruining relationships? Mostly because I have a low alcohol tolerance and the last guy I slept with cried mid-sex. Currently my standards share something in common with Rosamund Pike, they’re gone girl.

Well, no ones died in me… yet…


I have this friend we’ll call… Jumpy (he took lots of drugs). Jumpy was very similar to Whorey, a go to party friend but different in that between the constant drugs and alcohol he managed to hold down a relationship too (I didn’t say a good relationship okay?). He was interesting though, sporting a plethora of different hair colours and a tendency to catch STD’s he was my chlamydia riddled party parrot. Unfortunately all this caught up with him one birthday when he received the worst present in history, herpes.

Defying expectations, the herpes virus is only a deuteragonist in this tale. As always the real villain is alcohol, specifically a brand of vodka that tastes like it was triple distilled through a squirrel’s corpse (Glens a.k.a. Russian Wart Remover, No-No Juice and Pure Despair). Our story begins with the crack and subtle hiss of a bottle of Glens unleashing its industrial grade foolishness upon the world…

You are what you eat, in this case cheap and tearful…


After a night of trying our hardest to liquefy our livers internally I dragged myself over to the taxi rank. “Just stay at mine! It’s only around the corner” Jumpy slurred, to be honest at the time it was probably more akin to “Saaaaaam…. house closer! *babble* Sleep house!” Despite the overwhelming urge to sleep where I belonged (the gutter) I hauled up my body, which at this point was just a different vessel for storing cheap vodka, and stumbled into his flat.

Weirdly it was empty, not that Jumpy’s parade of partners worried me, he was just an older brother in my head (a terrible brother with alcohol abuse problems, but family is family). He graciously offered to share the bed and I mean that sincerely, Jumpy’s couch was as good for your body as meth is, but meth has the decency to make you skinny too. I stripped off with all the ceremony of a drunken hippo and climbed in…

In the mystical small hours where hangovers are born, something strange happened. I could feel Jumpy sleepily groping me but saying a different name… I pushed him gently and whispered that he had the wrong person (sorry sir, these aren’t nipples you’re looking for). Now I can excuse a sleepy grope, I’ve grabbed many a friend’s boobs in my sleep so now they’ve learnt to sleep in the spare bed. I think it’s a natural thing? Write in if you’ve ever woke up with your hands down someones pants, or if you’re crushing single like me and just woke up alone… listening to All By Myself… with mascara running down your face (too real, too real).

“Making love was just for fun… Those days are gone…” SPEAK TO ME CELINE…


What happened next I can’t brush off on sleepy brains, (I feel a lot of my starter sentences sound like click bait this week?) we just carried on. Jumpy had quite a nice dick to be honest, it was that fabulous milk colour you tend to see on emotionally unstable white guys. We started having extremely drunken sex, I don’t think I can emphasise just how sloppy it was. He kept flopping out which is where the mood started its slow death… I know this is purely down to both of us drinking enough vodka that someone would have to be ID’ed before kissing us, but it’s still a massive inconvenience. Drunk men never seem to be able to get it back in after and it turns sex into a weird game of pump pump handjob (DO NOT play this in lieu of duck duck goose at a kids party).

It didn’t last long. After what felt the hundredth time of re-introducing him to my body I had an epiphany, well a moment of sober clarity, and told him to stop. It just felt too weird, Jumpy is like a brother to me and I’m supposed to feel safe around him, not whatever this feeling was. He agreed and said it felt wrong so we both shuffled out of each other (not that this had an issue for him) and went back to sleep.

The next day I woke up an Jumpy had already gone to work. I quickly panicked, not at all about his relationship but because we didn’t use a condom…

Top Tip #2: Use a fucking condom if you wish to be kid and herpes free…

I called Jumpy instantly and blurted out “I won’t get herpes right!?”, screw hello this is serious goddammit. He just laughed which really helped break the ice and said he wasn’t flared up so I shouldn’t worry. Unfortunately that helped as much as saying “Don’t crash” to a train careening off its tracks, I got sanitiser in places one should never get sanitiser.

Dettol anyone about where you’ve been today…


As for Jumpy’s relationship? They broke up. Do I feel personally responsible for that? No, he clearly didn’t want to stay in a relationship, I just happened to be a pit-stop on his way to singledom. If not me it would have been someone else, and if he didn’t cheat he might have dragged it on for much longer. Like dropping an atom bomb on Hiroshima, it’s absolutely horrible but it ended the war quicker (I cannot believe I just compared myself to a nuke…)

So what did we learn this week kids? Nothing! because my next article is also about sleeping with someones boyfriend, come on hate mail… If there is a lesson to be learnt it’s that you shouldn’t drink and sleep next to someone who you might have sex with, I’m not blaming alcohol but it’s definitely accountable adjacent.

That and always use a fucking condom.

Thanks again guys for sticking by whilst I had a break from dating, I don’t need people to read these but it’s lovely that you do.


Cigarettes: I quit but then they got a boyfriend so I ran straight back.

Exercise: My phone has begun saying “Exercise alert” alert I exercise so little that it scares my phone when it happens…

Dates: Two! And I’ve already been on them so you’ll soon get the gossip!


One thought on “The Time I Nearly Got Herpes…

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