Because yes, it really DOES happen: A thank you to SlutWalks

I want to tell you something very personal about me. Not because I want to. I really don't want to. But I'm going to do it anyway.

It's one of those things where even though it's incredibly uncomfortable for me, I feel like sharing despite my discomfort might be able to make a positive difference. And since this has to do with something where I believe others have been making a positive difference in a way I, myself, have not also been able to, it seems the least I can do. I've been largely silent around the Slutwalks. There are a few reasons for that, but the biggest one of all is that what inspired them simply struck me much, much to close to home. So, my silence has not been about nonsupport of the walks. In more ways than one, it's been about my stepping out of the way of them in part based on my own limitations.

If you're triggered by candid stories about sexual or other forms of assault, this may be triggering for you. I know it still is for me, very much so. Telling this story in this kind of detail remains incredibly difficult for me, despite many years of healing, help with therapy, help and healing found through helping others and a lot of support. It's not a story I tell often, because even just typing it out or saying it all out loud makes my hands shake and my heart race and turns me into a bit of a mess for a bit of time after I do.

I keep hearing or reading people say things like that no one really gets told the way they were dressed makes them at fault for their assault, despite about a million evidences to the contrary, and knowing far more than one person personally who has had that experience.

Conversely (and oddly enough, sometimes from the same people who say that first thing), I keep reading people stating, despite so much great activism around this lately, that how someone dresses IS what "got them raped." Or that they were raped because of their sexual history, their economic class, where they live, how they talk, how they do or don't respond to men, how they identify or present their gender -- anything BUT the fact that they were in some kind of proximity to someone who chose to rape them, which is exactly how, and only how, someone winds up being a victim of rape.

A few months ago, I had an apparently politically progressive blogger who would not stop talking to me on Twitter about the "rape outfit" of an 11-year-old girl whose rape case I had linked to. He, without my asking him anything about it personally, expressed he felt she would not have been assaulted had she been dressed differently. He called whatever it was she was wearing a "rape outfit." Hearing about the fact that I had my own "rape outfit" at 12, or that, when my great-grandmother was raped and murdered in her home at the age of 76, her "rape outfit" was a housecoat, or that the "rape outfit" of young boys sexually abused by priests was often their super-salacious Sunday best; equally not hearing my firm requests to please not keep tweeting me with misogyny which I found deeply upsetting and hurtful seemed to only make him more excited to keep saying what he was. Even reminding him I was a survivor myself didn't slow him down. Only blocking him worked. I'm quite certain he left the conversation with exactly the same beliefs as when he started it.

These things we read and hear don't just come from one group of people: some men say them, but so do some women. Social conservatives say them a lot, but progressives say them, too. People who assault people, of course, will often voice things like this or other things to do all they can to avoid responsibility. But even people who have been victimized themselves will sometimes say things like this. Sometimes -- and, I'd say, probably most of the time -- that's about internalizing the messages they got. Sometimes it's about feeling a need to have another victim be at fault for their assault so that they can feel less like they, themselves, were at fault for their assaults, even though no victim is at fault for being victimized. More unfortunately, than I can express, rape culture is one of the most globalized kinds of culture there is.

I keep reading and hearing and seeing people who, so far as I can tell, and intentionally choosing to misrepresent or deny the core issue of what the SlutWalks are about: activism working expressly to try and counter deeply harmful and endangering attitudes expressed about rape and rape victims like those of Constable Michael Sanguinetti, who, in January of this year, speaking on crime prevention at a York University safety forum said, "You know, I think we're beating around the bush here. I've been told I'm not supposed to say this - however, women should avoid dressing like sluts in order not to be victimised." (This is why the word "slut" is so prominently featured in this activism, because it is this comment which directly inspired the first walk.)

I wish I had never heard a police officer say anything like that at all. I also wish that if I was going to hear that, it had been the first time I had.

In seeing so much nonsupport for the walks and people who have participated in them, I started to worry that being silent might be interpreted as being nonsupportive, which is the last message I'd want to send. I'm going to talk a little bit about the walks in this blog post and another in another few days, but I want to start by telling you what I'm about to tell you, if for no other reason than to do what I can do in support, because there are things I can't do yet, things which others can and have.

When I was 12 years old, I was sexually abused for the second time in my life. The first had been a year before, when I was 11. Then, I was molested by an elderly man who cut our hair in the neighborhood. I didn't tell anyone. I wasn't even totally sure what had happened to me, nor what to call it. It was 1981, I was 11, and all I knew was whatever it was felt horrible, scared me intensely, and was not okay. But I also got the message that telling anyone about it wasn't okay, and seemed to feel some message that because it happened to me, it must have meant there was something not okay about me, too. The home environment I was living in enabled these kinds of messages constantly and was itself abusive in other ways, so I did not feel safe at that point saying much of anything, let alone disclosing something like this.

A year later, I was alone cleaning up the art room of the day camp where I was a junior counselor at he end of the day. Because the building was still open, someone was likely at the front desk, but that was very far away, and otherwise, the place was a ghost town. The only reason I was there so late is that I'd often stretch out those days as long as I could in order to avoid having to go home.

I'm going to tell you what I was wearing now. What I was wearing wouldn't matter and wouldn't have mattered, to anyone, in a much better world then I lived in then and we still live in now. But it did matter to someone at the time, in a way that messed me up just as much as my assault itself did. In our cultural context right now, or perhaps in someone else's view, it would seem clear that what I was wearing had nothing at all to do with my being assaulted. In fact, now, in our cultural context about what is and isn't "slutty" dress, what I was wearing may be seen as indisputable proof that I did NOT ask for rape or deserve rape, even though nothing anyone wears or doesn't wear proves or disproves that in actuality, which is clear when people are rubbing more than two hateful brain cells together in their thinking process.

It was summer in Chicago then. It's hot in summer in Chicago. I was working at a camp, and I also had to bike back and forth, so I needed to be work-appropriate, even at 12, but also able to move around easily and not pass out from the heat. If it had been totally up to me, I'd probably have been wearing less than I was so I was more comfortable on the ride home.

But as it was, I had on gymshoes. I had a fairly loose white t-shirt on with the sleeves carefully rolled up, my typical uniform of the time (because big t-shirts are more cool if you roll up the sleeves, everyone knew that). I had on red chino-eqsque shorts that ended just above my knee. I was an early bloomer physically, so whatever I was wearing, there wasn't then, as there isn't now, any hiding that I'm a person with an hourglass shape and curves. Would that there had been: after what happened the year before and having been teased at home about my development, I often tried to hide parts of my body as I could. I probably had on some lip gloss. I had chin-length feathered hair that year, gone blonde from being out in the sun.

A group of much-older teenage boys, probably in their late teens, came into the art room started talking to me, and asked what I was doing there. I told them, then they asked how I got back and forth from the camp to home. I remember that as I said I rode my bike, I'd wished that I could take it back. I could feel a lack of safety in the air right then. I wished I had said someone picked me up. They asked if I wanted a ride. I said no, thank you. They asked a few more times, making a bit of a game of it, but a very pushy game. I said no a few more times then said I had to go get something and ran out.

I went and hid in a bathroom stall down the hall for what felt like hours but which was probably only minutes. I didn't go to the front desk and try to ask for help. There are a lot of reasons for that, but the biggest was probably that I had already learned in my life that being in danger was normal and that not being helped in being safe was what I could most typically expect from people. I had also learned already that sometimes telling when I was in danger only got me hurt more.

When I came out of the stall, I went to the bike rack to get my bike, planning to speed away as fast as I could and unlocked it in a hurry. But those boys drove up behind me in the van they had, physically attacked me and dragged me away from my bike and into their car. (Typical perhaps of a tween mind, I remember having a hard time later figuring out if I should be more upset I got hurt -- assault or rape were not words I had at the time -- or more upset that in the midst of all of this, my bike had been stolen because it was left unlocked.)

I have very hazy memories of what happened next, memories I have never fully either formed or recovered, that only show up in mushy, jagged pieces in night terrors I have had about this over the years. I will honestly say I am glad I have only hazy recall of what happened in that van, and that while parts of my body have always made clear they remember, much of my brain never has. A day later, a big, nasty bump welled up on my head, so I've always figured I got knocked out, and the rest of my lack of memory can be attributed to shock.

The next thing I remember was finding myself back on the curb near the bike rack, scruffed up, shirt ripped feeling incredibly sore and strangely soggy in places. I went back inside to the bathroom and was bleeding from my rectum. I think I managed to wash my face, but that was all I could manage. I was incredibly confused, disoriented and still scared to death, not knowing if anywhere was safe,if those boys had left, nothing. I went to the pay phone and called my mother, who also called the police before she came over. All I was able to voice was that I was very scared and hurt and needed someone to come to get me now.

I went back outside and sat on the curb in front of the park where a lot of people were, hoping I'd be safe there and that my mother would find me. She arrived about the same time the police did, who I didn't know had been called. I know I was completely incoherent, and I don't believe I was able to express anything anyone could understand. I suspect what I said was something to the effect of, "Guys. Said no, no ride. Hid. Came after me. Grabbed. Van. Scared. Hid in bathroom. Woke up on curb. Are they gone? What? Are they gone?" I know, though, however incomprehensible my words, it could not have been missed that I was in shock, nor that I had clearly been attacked in some way. Over the years, I've looked for rationale and reason of why I got so poorly served, but I always give up, knowing all too well how very, very many victims of sexual assault have had the same experience, and that it isn't something with rhyme or reason part how poorly sexual assault is treated in most of the world.

While my memories of my attack are very hazy, my memories of what came next have never been. I've often wished they, too, were hazy.

The police and my mother talked for a while before anyone even talked to me or asked how I was at all. I sat shivering on that curb, holding my knees, watching a crowd form around us, people at the park starting to pay more attention, feeling more and more freaked out. My mother came over and asked if I was just scared, if the van was still there. I looked around. It wasn't. I said no, I thought it was gone, I hoped it was gone, please let it be gone. For whatever reason, she said more than once "So, nothing happened? You just got scared?" and I remember not being sure how to answer that because it felt confusing, and like there was some kind of cue about a right answer hidden in there. Then two of the police stepped over, and talked with my mother again, instead of me, and I heard one of them say, half-looking at me, half-away, that I really shouldn't be wearing shorts that short because if I did, I could expect to have trouble with boys.

I also know and remember that with those words, I suddenly got a little more clear, the clarity you get from having just felt unsafe, thinking you might be safe, and then all the more acutely recognizing you are not, and determined to say absolutely nothing to them or my mother about anything. I agreed that okay, sure, yeah, I just got scared, I was fine, please just get me home, fine. You'll just make a note about the van, and I should call you if I see it again fine (and yeah, right). How on earth could I have felt safe saying to any of them in that space that I was bleeding from my rectum and I didn't know why, something already incredibly vulnerable for me to share in the first place? How on earth could I say that I think what just happened to me was like what had happened the year before that I'd told no one about? So, I didn't say anything. Not to anyone, not until a handful of years later when ever so slowly, I started telling people, scared to death every time I did.

That I didn't say anything at the time and for a long time shouldn't be surprising. It's about all the same kind of things that keep most survivors from reporting or disclosing.

Here's the part where I think it's very, very important that anyone reading anything like this knows three vital things.

These are not opinions. These are facts. I can't stop you from denying they are truths and facts, but you have to know that if you do, you do so from a place of bias or ignorance because we have all the evidence in the world that they are true. We have not just the story of someone like myself but mountain of stories from survivors like myself and survivors different than me, from sound studies and research and loads of "rape prevention" tips that made so many people feel like they were safer who learned the hard way that those tips didn't do a damn thing to protect them. All they did was control them, make them feel more scared of living, more distracted by all the things they felt they needed to think about to be safe and then and they just wound up getting hurt anyway.

The only factual part of disputes to what I am about to say is that it is absolutely a fact that we still have a long, long way to go when it comes to the way most of our world and many of the people in it treat rape and those of us who have been assaulted and abused.

1) I was not assaulted because of how I was dressed. Those long red shorts and sneakers were not why I was assaulted. But. The person who was wearing a short skirt and heels when she was assaulted wasn't assaulted because of how she was dressed, either. Even if I had been wearing something else entirely -- like the housecoat my great-grandmother was, a burqua, a nun's habit, overalls, skinny jeans or business attire; even if I was not a woman with a vulva, but a woman with a penis dressing in clothing I felt was representative of my gender as a woman, but some of the world disagreed with me, and felt I was cross-dressing, how I was dressed would not have been why I was assaulted, nor would my assault have been prevented had I just dressed differently. That's not because there is one way to dress that "gets you raped" and one way to dress that doesn't. That's because the thing that "gets someone raped" isn't a thing, it's a person who chooses to rape you and what you do and don't wear is something we know does not matter and have loads of hard data that has made that clear fro a long time now. People have been raped wearing everything in the world people can wear, and the vast majority of the time people are raped, they aren't wearing what those who blame them consider "provocative" clothing in the first place.

The idea or statement that how a victim was dressed had anything to do with their being raped does not reflect the realities of rape and rape perpetration, only the realities of victim blaming and rape culture.

2) My rape was a "real" rape. It was not a "real" rape just because my attackers were strangers to me, because there was physical violence involved, because I was so young and had not yet chosen to have any kind of sex yet outside of furtive kisses and some clueless dry-humping with a girl friend at 10, because I struggled and probably yelled no, because I was a girl, because I managed to be assaulted in ways that now, at this point in time, most people recognize as "real rape." It was a real rape because people really did something sexual to me without my consent and against my will because they wanted to do it and either didn't care I didn't, or wanted to do it because I didn't want to. That is why my rape is a "real" rape, and is also why someone who is raped by their husband at home after church has experienced a "real" rape; why someone who is out at a party in clubbing gear, drinking cocktails, who says yes to something sexual, but no to something else but whose no is ignored has experienced a "real" rape; why someone who is worn down by verbal coercion and finally gives in to sex they do not want has experienced a "real" rape; why a man who is sexually assaulted, whatever the gender of his perpetrator, has also experienced "real" rape.

Rapes are real in all the ways rape can happen, not just in the ways that some people are most comfortable acknowledging, or the ways which do not challenge people to have to consider that rape culture is not only real, but more pervasive, widespread and more a part of anyone's life, ongoing relationships, and perhaps even personal behavior than anyone would ever like to have to acknowledge.

3) All I have said here has a whole lot to do with Slutwalks and the aim of slutwalks. All I have said here has a whole lot to do with who gets impacted by the kinds of statements and attitudes the walks aim to call out and challenge, how deeply we can be impacted and how those statements and attitudes not only do not help people protect themselves from being victimized, but how they hurt victims and can even put people in greater danger.

All I have said here is exactly about telling women that if they dress a certain way, like sluts (or hos, or harlots or loose women, or whatever word du jour of similar sentiment fits your era, culture or community) they deserve to be raped or are asking to be assaulted. All I have said here is not some kind of strange exception where the woman involved was treated that way but wasn't dressed "like a slut," because all I have said here is a textbook example of the fact that the idea of what "asking for it" is is completely arbitrary except for the part where so incredibly often, the mere fact of having been raped means, to someone, if not a lot of someone's, that a victim must have been asking for it.

I want to finish today by saying one more thing I think is critically important, and another big part of why I'm sharing what I have with you here, despite it all being so difficult for me to say so visibly.

I didn't attend any of the Slutwalks. I probably won't. I'm nearest to Seattle, and had some personal issues with some of ours here that were part of what kept me from it, issues I really think are personal and individual enough not to be relevant or important to anyone but me, especially with the bigger picture in mind. I also have some more political issues, but that's something I'll talk about more in my second post about this.

What I want to mention now is the one big thing that kept me from attending any of the walks, and that is a lack of courage and resiliency. I need to acknowledge that I have lacked a level of courage and resiliency around this which some other people who have attended these walks have had, and which I cannot possibly express my great admiration and respect for. When I see photos of them, read their words, think about them -- survivors like me, who probably have similar or even the same wounds, but went all the same, some even wearing what they wore when assaulted, I am overcome with awe and humility and gratitude.

I know: I have talked about being a survivor very publicly before. In many ways, I am very strong around this, especially since my most harrowing assaults are hardly fresh: they happened a long time ago, and I've had a lot of time to heal. But in some ways, I am not strong around this. In some ways, I am still broken in places that haven't yet become strong or whole. In some ways, I am not brave around this in ways that others have been or can be -- or heck, know they aren't but are so amazing, they do it anyway.

I thought about attending a walk wearing something as similar as I could find to what I was wearing that day when I was 12. And I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I just couldn't open myself up to even one person, saying or writing in a place I could hear anything at all about the way I was dressed and my assault, whether the statement would be that I deserved to be raped because of what I was wearing, or that I didn't, but some other woman did. I am just not that strong, mostly because hearing what I did, when I did, how I did wounded me just that deeply, that almost 30 years later, I can't even put on a damn pair of shorts to wear in public without a meltdown, even though I am comfortable naked or wearing anything else there is I'd want to wear.

I need to say this twice: there are women who attended Slutwalks who DID wear exactly what they were wearing when they were assaulted; who did wear what someone told them made their rape their fault, despite it undoubtedly being scary and painful, because they recognized how powerful it could be for them and for others.

I had to stop for a few minutes after I typed that again, because the bravery and integrity of that action literally makes me breathless. There are survivors who did what I could not do, cannot do, because they know how important it is, to them, to people like me, to everyone. There are those who did what I could not do, who I firmly believe have done something that might seem small, but which is, I think, major. Something that will make it less and less likely a 12-year-old girl, wearing whatever it is she is wearing, who already has been done the grave injustice of rape, will never, ever hear anyone say that their clothing -- that ANYTHING -- made being raped their fault.

Any of us can have whatever options or ideas or feelings about this activism that we like. We can disagree about some of it, or the way a given person has or hasn't executed it, but I just don't know how it's possible not to recognize the potential power of what so many people have been part of with these walks, nor to ignore how much participating must have required of some of the speakers and other attendees.

So, if there is anyone out there who organized or attended a walk who interpreted my silence as nonsupport, I hope you know now that it wasn't. If there is anyone out there who feels worn down or unappreciated by the critiques or the resistance, know there is someone right here whose s/hero you are, in a way that someone who usually has no shortage of words has a hard time even articulating the depth of. If there is anyone out there who was brave in a way I couldn't be, and who got torn down for it or spoken to in exactly the ways that I feared I would, I can't tell you how sorry I am that after all the courage you probably had to muster up, anyone around you couldn't manage to have just a fraction of the integrity and care and inner strength you do.

But know, too, there is someone sitting right here who believes that while you should not have ever had to take yet one more hit around this, I believe that in taking the risk you did, you've done something that not only will help make it less likely others have to, but you've humbled someone who sometimes arrogantly thought she was as brave around this as someone could be by raising the bar.

(P.S. I ask that you please tread gently in the comments on this, if you're going to leave one, and in whatever you might say if you're going to blog about my story at all. Like I said, this is something where I feel incredibly vulnerable. I think it's safe to say it's something where anyone would, so I'd hope anyone addressing any candid story from any survivor would be sensitive, cautious and thoughtful. I hate to even have to ask something like that at all, because, you know, we shouldn't have to. But like all too many survivors, especially those who tell their stories and speak up, and as someone who has been burned before when being visible and vocal about her rapes, I know that we do have to ask, and that even then, sometimes even just asking winds up resulting in harassment. I sincerely hope that doesn't happen this time around, but feel the need to make that ask. Thank you.)

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Posted on 3:12 PM / 0 comments / Read More

I worry that because I'm a man, I am going to sexually abuse someone.

aplanacanalpanama asks:

My mom was a victim of incest as a girl and has used it to invalidate my emotions. I blame the incest, not my mom, but it still hurts. But I can't help but feel like I, as a man, am dirty to be sexual. I can't draw a line in my head between good sex and bad sex. I am a virgin because when I get close to sex, the girl will start reminding me of my mom or my sister. I'm afraid if I don't lose my virginity soon I will develop a sexual frustration that will eventually cause me to hurt someone. I know that I'm just a troubled, caring guy. But I can't help but hate myself sexually. I don't know what to do.

Heather Corinna replies:

I'm so sorry that this is how you have been feeling about yourself, and that you're hurting so badly and feeling so fearful of yourself. I'm beyond sorry to hear that you hate yourself. Those are all terrible, debilitating ways for someone to feel. But I'm very glad that you've asked me for help, because you deserve to feel so much better than this, and I think I can help give you some first steps to create that change.

I hear you being worried about hurting others, but what I'm concerned about is how you're hurting and how you have been hurt. My hope is I can make some kind of small dent today that helps you get started in healing those wounds, and turning your negative feelings about yourself around so you can grow to feel positively about your gender, your sexuality and the rest of who you are as a person.

I want to start by pointing some facts you can see in black and white. I want you to know, before you read them, that I do a lot of work advocating for and supporting victims of sexual abuse and assault and am also a survivor of abuses and assault myself. So, I can very much assure you that the last thing I am is lenient with anyone who has abused or who I have any indication intends to abuse someone or expresses anything that makes it seem like they will choose to do that to anyone. I also do not ever downplay or whitewash abuse or the things I know enable or cause abuse, and the very last thing I would ever want to do is to enable or support anyone in abusing or anything that, on the whole, could or does enables abuse. I hope knowing that about me will give you some extra confidence in everything I'm about to tell you.

Perpetrating incest or other kinds of sexual abuse or assault is not about being male. Most men, just like most other people, do not ever perpetrate incest, rape and other kinds of sexual assault and abuse.

To be sure that's crystal, most men are not sexually abusive and will not be sexually abusive, and that is fact, not wishful thinking or denial. So, if we wanted to generalize around men and sexual violence, the only thing we could say based on facts is that being male, all by itself, is clearly not a cause of abuse. If it was, most men would perpetrate abuse. Most men do not.

I know that there are some people out there who believe that being male, all by itself, is why men who do abuse people do or even why abuse happens, no matter who does it or who it happens to. However, I in no way believe that to be true, and everything of any merit I have ever read and studied about this topic supports my belief that is in no way true, even though I understand that it feels true to some people. (However, we know that isn't true for even your mother, because here you are, male and someone male she has encountered who has not been abusive to her or anyone else, save potentially to yourself.)

Something else to know is that incest and other kinds of sexual abuse are not only perpetrated by men, but by people of all genders; the victims of those kinds of abuses are not only women, either. With childhood sexual abuse especially, boys are and can be victimized just as girls are. We even know that boys tell others about abuse less often than girls, and that abuse is recognized less often when victims are boys. The ways masculinity and sexuality get conceptualized in a lot of cultures often isn't always very good at recognizing when boys are being abused. Some people or cultures have dangerous and dysfunctional attitudes about sexual abuse involving boys or men, especially when and if the perpetrators of that abuse are women, framing some kinds of abuse as non-traumatic just because of gender, or worse still, as something boys or men were "lucky" to have happen to them, because boys and men are -- according to people thinking about this in utterly messed-up ways -- supposed to always want and enjoy all kinds of sex, even when sexual activity is not consensual or is otherwise injurous or harmful to them.

By all means, it is true that more men than women, so far as we know, perpetrate sexual abuses and assault. But there are some important caveats about that. Just like some people have the idea men and their sexuality or sexual behavior are innately harmful or powerful, some people feel that women and their sexuality or sexual behavior are innately harmless or powerless. Neither of these things are true. Some kinds of sexual abuses are also less often recognized by people as abuse, like sexual assault that doesn't involve entering a part of the body (such as a perpetrator forcing a victim to masturbate or otherwise touch themselves), sexual assault or abuse that's hidden under the guise of something else (like administering medications or punishments in a way that are sexually abusive, but are presented or seen as being about caretaking), sexual shaming and other kinds of verbal sexual harassment all of which can be more prevalent when an abuser is a woman.

I don't know any of the details about how you grew up beyond the feelings you're left with, but it seems possible you yourself may have even been a victim of some of these kinds of abuses from your mother, like sexual shaming or other verbal sexual abuse.

People who abuse or assault other people do not do so because of what genitals or chromosomes they have. People who abuse or assault other people usually actively and knowingly choose to do that (with some exceptions for people with earnest impulse control disorders, though those are the exceptions, not the rules). What causes people to abuse varies, but for the vast majority of people who abuse, based on real study about abuse, those causes are not about the way anyone was born, including what sex they are. As well, sexual abuse isn't just about an abuser's sexuality. Sometimes it isn't at all, but even when it is, that's only part of a much bigger whole of abuse dynamics and motives.

By all means, sometimes personal or cultural ideas about gender, including ideas about masculinity and femininity, can and often do play a part in why many people abuse. But ideas about masculinity are not the same as being male, and not all men have the same ideas about or sense of masculinity. Many men, for instance, do not believe that because they are men, women or children should be subservient to them or beneath them, that the penis is some kind of weapon, that sex is for asserting power or that smacking people around is okay just because some men (or women) do, even when they encounter other men or aspects of culture that insist those things are so. Many, many men already have or figure out how to have a masculinity that does not involve harming anyone. And just like being male can't make anyone abuse anyone else, neither can ideas of masculinity, even when they are a scary, hot mess. Again, for the vast, vast majority of people who perpetrate abuse, it is something they knowingly choose to do, not something their chromosomes or genitals force them to do against their will or outside their control.

Let's give some space to the idea that your sexuality is "dirty" because of your gender. The idea that sex or sexuality are dirty is just something I just don't cotton to. They can sure be messy sometimes, physically and emotionally, and can also call up or give us access to some of the deeper, more intense and even darker parts of ourselves or others which aren't all full of rainbows and sunshine. But we can say the same thing about a lot of things in life. Creative work, for instance, like making art or music, can be and do all of those same things. Really loving someone can be awfully messy, too, and can also open up parts of ourselves or other people which aren't shiny and happy. And just like we can do so with love or creative work, even when that's the case, we can still express those feelings or aspects in ways that are healthy and don't do anyone or ourselves harm. Just like with love, sexuality has the capacity to be healthy, rich, beneficial, safe, caring and positively powerful and empowering. Personally, I believe it has more than just that capacity: my belief is that's its essential, truest nature.

I'd like to talk a little bit about your mother now. When people have been abused in any way and don't get help with healing, especially with something like childhood sexual abuse, it can do a real number on them, as you unfortunately know too well. Your mother was traumatized, and, as happens all too often, that trauma didn't stop with her, either. Her trauma, and the way she has dealt with it, have also traumatized you.

I don't have any idea about what your mothers' upbringing was like, what her resources and community have been, so I don't want to be too hard on her here, especially since being a victim of childhood sexual abuse is often incredibly hard, especially if she didn't get any help in getting away from it (and whoever was doing it to her), if she didn't feel able to tell anyone or wasn't believed when she did, or if she didn't get any good help and support, ideally very soon after it happened to her, so she could get safe and start to heal.

No victim is ever responsible for being abused. That responsibility lies 100% with whoever chose to abuse them. You're absolutely right not to hold your mother responsible in any way for what she suffered when she was victimized, nor for the pain she experienced as a result. But there is something that any of us who have been traumatized or victimized are responsible for: that's our own healing. We didn't do what we need to heal from, and it sucks that we have to be the ones to do the work to repair something we ourselves didn't break, but that's the way it goes. It's not a victim's fault that healing needs to be done, but it is a victim's responsibility to try to heal, though it's hopefully not something we had or have to do without help and support. It's also our responsibility to care for ourselves and anyone else we agree to care for, and to work out how to do that in healthy ways, even when we've survived trauma and may have challenges in doing that well as a result. Having been sexually abused or assaulted does not absolve anyone of the responsibility to treat other people with care, respect, love and kindness, especially if and when we put ourselves in the position where we have agreed to provide that care. Having been sexually abused or assaulted also does not excuse any victim if and when they have done someone else harm.

You don't have to blame your mother for anything. I don't think this is even about blame. But you do get to hold her responsible for the ways she has hurt you, just like she gets to hold the person who traumatized her responsible. Your mother didn't choose to be abused, but, assuming she was not forced into pregnancy, birth or parenting, she chose to be your parent. In choosing or accepting that responsibility, she agreed to provide you with an environment, including herself as a major part of that, in which you were safe and cared for. The onus was and is on her, as it is with every parent (even if few actually do it), to take real stock of themselves, identify anything they need to work through or learn to deal with that might do their child harm, and then do that work and keep doing that work, ideally before, but most certainly during, parenting.

You aren't blaming her as a victim by holding her responsible for those things and any other ways she may have failed you or done you harm with her parenting.

I want to also make sure you know that not only is your Mom not responsible for her abuse, neither are you. The fact that you may share a set of genitals or even some of the genetics of the person who abused her does not change that in the slightest: you have absolutely nothing to do with your mother being victimized. Save for the ways she has chosen to make it about you, it is not, in reality, in any way about you. You did not do this to her or anyone else. It's clear you grew up with some messages that might have made you feel otherwise, but I hope in time you can really feel and know what I'm saying here.

I'm not sure what you mean when you say "good sex" and bad sex." Do you mean you can't figure out what healthy expressions of sexuality might be, and what might be sexual abuse? If so, I can leave you a few links that should help you get a start sorting that out for that:

I am not worried that if you do not have a sexual partner soon you will do someone harm. By all means, if you truly feel, now or ever, you may be a harm to yourself or anyone else, I encourage you to ask for in-person help, since those are obviously things you want to avoid. I don't mean to deny or invalidate your own feelings about this, but at the same time, you've made pretty clear here that there's sound reason for you to strongly suspect those feelings are probably more about someone else's life (you mother's) and about someone else (the person who abused her) than they are about your life and about you.

You know, the smartest person in the whole world could grow up with someone telling them or otherwise giving them the constant message that they are stupid and think -- despite every evidence to the contrary, despite even an IQ test that shows them to be the most genius of all geniuses -- that they're stupid. Someone who grows up with the strong message that they are the "bad" child could do everything right a person can do right and still think they're a terrible person. And someone like you could be reared with the message that, because of your gender, your sexuality will automatically be unhealthy and abusive and believe that completely, based on that messaging alone.

I strongly suspect your fears about being abusive are probably mostly based on these messages you got, messages I believe have their only basis in your mother's trauma and none in the truth of who you are, someone who had nothing whatsoever to do with her abuse. Even if your mother didn't intend to lie to you, and she probably did not, I need you to know that you have been lied to. There is nothing bad about you because you are a man, and nothing bad about you because you have a sexuality and sexual desires. You expressed something you know about yourself in your letter, that you are a caring person.I'd suggest you put the most stock in the positive truths you know about yourself like that one, and work on throwing away what anyone, be it your mother or anyone else, is projecting unto you that is about someone else, not about you.

I don't know of any data that supports the idea that without engaging in sex you will assault or abuse someone. Based on all the study that I've seen about sexuality and about sexual abuse, there's nothing that supports people feeling compelled to abuse because they feel sexually frustrated or because they aren't having sex they want. For sure, that can make some people feel lonely, annoyed, angry, sad or bitter, but it's a big leap to suggest or think that those feelings will automatically lead to sexually abusing. Our sexuality and sexual desires aren't a ticking bomb, where if we don't hurry and do something to stop the clock from ticking, they'll explode and blow us or anyone else up. People have sexual desires all the time that they can't or don't express the way they want to, when they want to, or every time they want to. While that can certainly be a bummer, that experience is not known to result in healthy people doing other people harm. And people who choose to sexually abuse other people are not usually people with the kind of awareness you have about sexual abuse and with the clear concern you have about not doing anyone harm.

I'm most concerned about you getting hurt in sexual interactions right now, not about you hurting someone else. Sex with others is often a place where we're really vulnerable and very open, and with the way you're thinking about and feeling afraid of yourself and your sexuality to date, I think the most likely person to get hurt in a sexual exchange is you. That's a big window to leave open, after all, when you've got such delicate, fragile things inside right now. Something else that makes me concerned is that when we feel like crap about ourselves, we're much less likely to choose healthy people to be sexual with, and much more vulnerable to abuse, sexual or otherwise. I see you only imagining yourself as a potential abuser or harm, but what I'm seeing is someone who could be very vulnerable to abuse or being harmed.

I think that without getting help in healing for yourself, you're likely to have a really hard time with sexual relationships right now, and not likely to feel or be very safe or comfortable in them. For that reason, I'd suggest putting dating and sex with others on the back-burner for now until you can make some good progress turning these feelings about yourself and your sexuality around and feel confident in your ability to be a sexual partner who you know is safe for others as well as for yourself. Feeling terrified about doing someone harm and only being reminded of the actual or possible abuse of your family members does not sound, at all, like the kind of headspace that supports healthy, sexual relationships or interactions that feel really good to you, physically and emotionally. If you feel frustrated sexually -- something we all can feel, including when we have partners and even when we're having sex with them -- and like you want to express your sexuality in a way you can feel safe about, I'd suggest sticking with masturbation alone for a while longer, until you feel much better about yourself and sexuality than you do right now. Masturbation usually takes care of much of the physical aspect of our sexual desires very well, and can be a positive way to affirm sexuality as something safe and good, and while I understand you likely also have some emotional desires involving sex with partners, too, I think even with the opportunity, those aren't likely to be met until you get some healing.

I strongly suggest you seek out a qualified counselor or therapist to help you get started with all of this stuff, and to take a big step in really taking care of yourself with someone who knows and will constantly reaffirm that you are a person who deserves to be taken care of, who is a good person and who is someone worthy of trust and a sexuality and sense of self they feel good about. It sounds like you've lived with this for the whole of your life: that's a lot of emotional injury to undo, and that kind of healing takes time and some really good help.

In counseling, if you still have concerns about harming anyone, you can voice those and your counselor or therapist can help you to assess that reality. If it does seem viable to them, they help you to be sure you and others stay safe. If they feel the way I do, and I suspect they will, they can give you a lot of help and tools to use so that over time, you can let go of that fear and feel more free to live your life and get close to people in the ways you want to, including sexually. That person can also help you develop a better sense, if you need that help, of what's healthy and sound in sexual choices and actions and what is not, both on your end and from sexual partners.

No one page like this could possibly undo the damage that's been done to you and turn all of this around today. I can't tell you how much I wish that it could, and how much I wish I had the power to magic all of these scary and negative feelings away for you right this very second. I am heartbroken to hear you, or anyone, feeling like you are and have been. You deserve a much, much better life and sense of self than this.

I hope that this at least can help you get started on a path to the good stuff, though. If you want some help finding someone in-person who can help you take it from here, I'd be glad to help you with that. You can start by looking at this database of services we have here, and if you can't find anyone that way, just let me know and I'd be glad to help you out. I'd also be happy to suggest some books I think might help you out, both about healing and finding a masculinity that feels comfortable to you, and about sexuality in general. I have a young adult sexuality guide I penned myself that I offer free copies of, when I can, to people who really need it and can't afford it or find it in their area, even at the library. If you think something like that would be helpful and are not in the position to buy or otherwise access it yourself, if you drop me an email with a postal address, I'd be delighted to donate a copy to you.

Want something you can get started on right now, today, besides starting to look into counseling? One thing you can do that's very easy and can be very powerful is just to come up with a short, positive affirmation you can say to yourself in moments where you're feeling like this, or even put on a sticky-note in places you go to and see each day, like your bathroom mirror. Maybe something like, "I'm a good man, a good person and my sexuality is a good thing that can do good," or "I can and do care for myself and others, and my gender and sexuality can help me to do that, not keep me from doing that," or "Men can be safe. Sexuality can be safe. I can be and feel safe for myself and for others," or something else that gives you a positive, powerful and supportive message about your gender, your sexuality and your without-a-question capacity to be the caring, kind person I have absolutely no doubt that you are.

(P.S. If you want to get your Mom some help, or at least give her some resources she can use to seek it out herself, I can help with that, too. You're my concern right now, not her, but if she's never had any help at all in healing, I'm also concerned about her. You might find that it feels positive for you to help her get the help she obviously has needed for a long time. It's okay if that's not something you want to do or try and help with, though, and I could certainly understand if that feels way too loaded given the ways she's hurt you. Even if you do want to do that, I'd encourage you to put most of your energy into taking care of yourself. I think it's high time for you, who you are and how you're hurting to come first.)

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I feel dirty and irresponsible because of genital herpes

sex was something I really thought hard about and took all the precautions I thought were needed (we were even using condoms despite me being on the pill, though I now know you can contract herpes through skin-to-skin contact after sex). The nurses at the GUM clinic were wonderful and kept telling me I shouldn't feel guilty and that I took all the precautions I could, but I still feel awful.

I don't think you or your boyfriend are dirty. I think you're people who have one of the most common infections in the world, an infection that is usually harmless to most people, even though you feel ashamed about it right now. For most people, honestly, having herpes is pretty equivalent to having acne: it can be painful with any outbreaks, but is mostly a cosmetic issue that's very unlikely to impact your overall health. I also don't think you have been irresponsible. You both engaged in safer sex, including testing and latex barrier use, well and within the level of access you had from your healthcare services.

I want to make sure you know that illness, of any kind, is rarely about people being "dirty." Even when you use the word "clean" here, that supports that idea. It's such a pity that language is so often used when people test/are negative for things, a term I'd suggest you swap out "clean" for. People without certain infections or diseases aren't automatically "clean" -- they're just people who don't have certain infections and diseases, or who, in tests, have had negative results when tested for them. How clean or not someone is has nothing to do with this, just like how "dirty" someone is or isn't.

Sure, if we get a wound and don't tend to it properly, it will tend to get infected because of bacteria, and would have been less likely to if we cleaned the wound and kept it clean. As well, some kinds of illness are impacted by hygiene: in a real way, by how clean we, parts of our bodies or things we take into our bodies have or have not been, in the free-of-bacteria sense. For example, that can be a factor in urinary tract, E. coli and staph infections. Herpes (HSV), however, isn't a kind of infections where hygiene is a factor.

The idea that sexually transmitted illness, specifically, is about anyone being "dirty" is really about ignorance, misinformation and social stigma, not about science or medical facts. Very unfortunately, and quite maddeningly, we have a long cultural history of stigma around STIs being cultivated primarily out of the desire for social control. In other words, the idea that scaring people about sexually transmitted illness, or shaming people about it, will make it more likely for them to only have the kinds of sex, or sex in the kinds of contexts or relationships, other people want them to have because of their own personal beliefs, which they feel are superior to different beliefs others may have.

One of the reasons we know HIV became so epidemic is that for years (and sometimes still) after the infection came to light, it was publicized as "the gay disease," a half-witted and homophopbic tag that resulted in far more people acquiring it than would have otherwise, which has an impact still, and which also played a negative part in how research was done to try and treat people with and prevent the further spread of HIV: that stigma made, and still makes all the wheels to help everyone turn much more slowly. Still today, stigma with HIV -- based on both it so often being sexually transmitted and on myths it only can happen to certain people -- results in more people acquiring the infection, less people knowing how to prevent it and being supported in prevention, limited access to healthcare and in the funding for developing better care for HIV-positive people. Similar harm has been done when other groups in history -- unmarried working-class women and people of color, for instance -- were stigmatized about sexually transmitted illness. It's safe to say that stigma placed on STIs has, in a lot of ways, done just as much harm or more to people as the infections themselves have.

And ultimately, the idea that STIs are about anything dirty is about the fact that some people think that because they think of sex -- or some kinds of sex, some ways of having it, or having it with certain kinds of partners or relationship models -- as dirty. In other words, you were doing something which, in their minds, was "dirty" and thus, getting an illness through that activity proves that "dirtiness." It's flawed logic and much of it is based on shame about sex and things that just aren't true, but which people really wish were (like the idea that not being gay means you'll be safer, or that being married, all by itself, means people won't get STIs), but it's the heart of where this framing of sexually transmitted illness comes from.

I don't think sex is dirty (messy, sometimes, sure, but not dirty). I don't think illness is dirty, either. And I don't think you're dirty. You're a person who has engaged in sexual behavior the vast majority of people around the world and through all of history do and have, and in doing that, you acquired up an infectious disease, one of many -- some sexually acquired, some in other ways -- in our world people get and pass along just by being in close contact with each other, be that sexual or not sexual at all. Herpes, like other infections, is just an illness. It's not any kind of judgment from on high, any kind of mark on your character, and it doesn't have a thing to do with what kind of person you are.

I thought you might appreciate some perspective on this from someone who knows a whole lot about infectious disease, but who doesn't share my politics or my job. So, I asked my mother. That's less random than it sounds: my mother is the longtime, big-shot manager of infectious disease and control at one of the largest children's hospitals in the United States.

I told her about your question, and she said a few things I thought we really spot-on that might give you some comfort.

She agreed with me that stigmatizing sexually transmitted infections arises primarily out of stigmatizing sex and certain people and out of ignorance and attempts to socially control people. She also agreed with me that stigmatizing sexually transmitted illness, or any kind of illness, does people real harm, both in terms of making them feel crappy, like you do and like it sounds like your boyfriend does, but also in terms of how it impacts public health. In other words, she agreed that stigma on sexually transmitted illness makes people sick. After all, it's this stigma, more than anything else, that keeps people from getting tested, keeps people from talking about sexual health and making responsible choices like you did and impacts things like how accessible testing and treatment for STIs is to people around the world.

She also mentioned that some infections classed as sexually transmitted, and which often are, but aren't only transmitted that way -- like Herpes, HIV or hepatitis -- are often transmitted from mother-to-child. Yet, we do not often hear people say that that kind of transmission or relationship is about anyone being dirty. She also brought up allergies. She said allergies are about a foreign antigen being introduced to our bodies, and us having a reaction to it, the exact same thing that happens with a virus like Herpes. And yet, we don't hear people saying things people are allergic to like pollen, peanut butter, grass, strawberries or cute little kittens are nasty or dirty, nor that people with allergies are dirty. She went on a bit after that, bringing up what I often do that infectious disease is infectious disease: because some kinds are associated with or transmitted by sex doesn't mean people who have or get them are any more "dirty" than people with other kinds of infectious disease, like who get the flu, a cold or chicken pox (which is a varicella-zoster virus like Herpes).

My Mom and I also talked about how STI testing, when tests for all STIs are actually done (bearing in mind we're still without a means to test men for HPV), can be very accurate, but are not infallible. In other words, tests are more often right than not, but not always. We also don't have all the best technology for testing yet, and all tests aren't available to all people.

We can say similar things about other parts of safer sex. Latex barriers used properly and consistently for all oral, vaginal and/or anal sex do an excellent job of reducing the risks of STIs, but they only reduce the risks: they don't make those risks go away. So long as we have the kinds of contact, sexual or otherwise, where we can transmit or acquire infections or diseases, there is always going to be some risk of them, even when we do all we can to reduce those risks. And with an infection like Herpes, unless you live your whole life in a plastic bubble, it's virtually impossible not to be exposed to it at least a few times in life, because it is so, so common and so easy to transmit or acquire.

It sounds to me like you did all you could do here, save choosing not to ever have sex at all. You used barriers. You asked about testing and insisted your partner be tested. You partner also did his part, too: he went and asked for STI testing and the clinic gave him the tests they thought he needed.

One thing for both of you to know is that the policy that clinic system has isn't unusual, especially in healthcare systems or for clinics where the patient isn't paying for the tests themselves. Testing for HSV can be tricky, as it is, because it's so common that almost everyone has been exposed, even though everyone doesn't have Herpes. Testing for Herpes is much more accurate when someone has an outbreak, which is one reason why most providers don't test for it otherwise. The most reliable kinds of testing for HSV without outbreaks are costly and are not widely available, so you're not likely to see them used much, especially in public healthcare.

It also is an infection which, for most people, doesn't usually present big health risks, just like, for most people, chicken pox doesn't. Save for some specific populations with certain health conditions, like people with suppressed immune systems, Herpes really isn't a major public health concern, nor an infection a healthcare provider needs to worry is likely to create health issues for an average patient. To boot, it's not something we have any treatment for, save medications to help suppress outbreaks: in other words, unlike an infection like Chlamydia, there's no medication that someone can take to make the Herpes virus go away. So, even when someone has it, there's nothing a healthcare provider can actually do, save providing medications to reduce the number of outbreaks. That medication can't cure the infection itself, though, it just can reduce a person's symptoms. And the only adice they'd give someone they knew had it to protect partners would be mostly about what you already knew: to use barriers for any oral, vaginal and/or anal sex. Additionally, they'd advise that when someone feels an outbreak coming on or has one, they avoid intimate contact, but that wouldn't have helped your boyfriend any here since he didn't experience an outbreak or notice when he had one.

So, those are all some of the reasons why, unless someone asks specifically for a Herpes test (or a full panel for all STIs, rather than leaving it up to the healthcare provider to decide what tests to run), that test often won't be done. In the future, you can both make sure that with STI testing you always ask for a full panel, but you still may not get it when you do in healthcare systems where you're not actually paying for all of those tests yourselves, or when a provider feels a test just isn't warranted or won't give reliable information.

It might also help you both to know that most people with most STIs, including Herpes, don't have obvious symptoms, and with Herpes specifically, only around 75% of people at a maximum ever see or recognize symptoms to know they have it. In the UK, around 25% of your population who has had any kind of genital sex has HSV-2. To be clear about the information you took away on acquiring it, even with condom use, the deal is that because Herpes isn't transmitted by fluids, but by skin contact, and condoms don't cover all of genital surfaces, it can still be acquired/transmitted when using condoms. All infections can, but condoms provide more protection (around 10% to over 20% more) with infections spread by fluids than with infections spread skin-to-skin, like Herpes and HPV. So, this isn't just about contact after sex, but during any kind of sex.

Both of you really did do all you could do here. No one can ever have complete control over acquiring or transmitting all kinds of illness or not, including sexually transmitted illnesses.

One thing I think might make you feel a lot better is if you and your partner could come to some kind of resolution about this. It's very clear you feel like he's avoiding any responsibility here, and I can certainly see why you feel that way. It seems likely he doesn't feel good about this either, that he feels as pissed and embarrassed about having the virus as you do, and probably just as upset about feeling like this should have been something you two could have controlled. In other words, he seems to be feeling a lot like you are, he's just dealing with it and communicating about it in a way that's probably making you both feel worse. Too, he may have his own feelings about how he first acquired it, from who he did or how he did that's having an impact on the way he's feeling and behaving.

What I'd suggest is making clear to him that you don't want to fight about this anymore. I'd add -- and if you've done this already a bunch of times, figure you make it clear one last time -- that you know he didn't do you any harm on purpose, and know, understand and believe that he thought he really had done all he could when it came to his testing, and that when it comes to possible limitations of your healthcare system, he may well have done so. In other words, that even if he had asked for a test, he probably would not have gotten one, and even if he got one, it may not have provided accurate results, so this still could have happened.

But then what you add is that you know all of that, but you feel like you're alone in this and really don't want to be, both because you're not, and because it makes you feel worse about everything. You're not looking to blame him: you're looking for him to share responsibility so you don't have to be the only one feeling responsible, especially since you're not. You can tell him what you want and need is just for him to be with you in this so it's something you both deal with together, especially since it is about both of you. You might even ask him to talk more about his feelings, maybe bringing up that he might have his own difficult and complex feelings about how he picked it up himself, and feelings of guilt for inadvertently passing it on to you, and offering to listen to him and support him in those feelings.

Another helpful move might be for both of you to go back to that GUM clinic and ask one of those awesome nurses to talk with you two about all of this some more. They can fill you both in more about all the questions you each have and the things your boyfriend doesn't seem to be getting or accepting, and may even be able to give you some help in dealing with this well as a couple.

You might also want to check in with yourself and make sure this relationship is still working for you and is really as awesome as it has been in the past. If this is the only area where you two are having the kind of emotional dynamics you have been, and everything else is great and feels great, then you can probably work this out. But if he's doing things like avoiding responsibility for other things, or not being supportive of you in other ways, it may be time to make sure this is really about Herpes and not about bigger things.

One last thing you might need to unpack that might part of how you feel are ideas people will often have that genitals need to be somehow perfect. In other words, that they always need to look awesome, whether that's having whatever someone feels is the "right" amount of hair, the "right" size of penis or labia, the "right" smell or color. People can feel that way about bodies as a whole, too. But bodies and all their parts, including genitals, aren't perfect: they're human, just like us. Sometimes we're going to have zits or ingrown hairs. Sometimes our genitals are going to smell funky or look weird. And sometimes, just like with any other part of our bodies, we're going to have an illness or health condition that's going to impact how our genitals look, smell, taste or feel. If and when we're already not at the point in our lives where we're pretty comfy with our genitals as a whole, having something noticeably wrong with them can be even tougher. So, I'd suggest checking out your feelings about this stuff, too, and trying to adjust your thinking -- something your boyfriend might also need to do -- to accept that it's always okay when bodies, or genitals, aren't "perfect." We get to be sick sometimes. We get to be imperfect, and even if we don't feel like that's okay or allowed, we're going to be imperfect in many ways no matter what we do or who we are, whether we get ill or not, so if we don't get pretty okay with that, it's going to be hard to feel good no matter what. In other words, if some of how you feel is about being physically "imperfect" now? Welcome to the club: it's one everyone is a part of even when they don't think they're a member.

I hope that at least some of what I said here will help you feel better, but it still might take some time to absorb all of it and also to accept it all, both for you and your partner. Just shrugging off things that are socially stigmatized, even when we know that that stigma is based on things that aren't sound is rarely something anyone can just do and be done with all zippy-like. It tends to take time. It's also tough to have any kind of illness or change to our bodies, especially when we know that change is in some way permanent, even when we know it's common and not going to kill us. If you've never had any experiences dealing with ongoing illness before this, that alone tends to be its own process. Humanity and mortality are hardly minor issues to grapple with, after all.

I'll leave you with a few extra links here on the site about herpes and safer sex (seeing that you were doing all you could in another context might help you feel better), a couple that might help you and your partner work through stuff in your relationship, and there's also a good support site specifically for folks in the UK with genital herpes you might find helpful I'll put right on top.

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Posted on 1:43 PM / 0 comments / Read More