Advice Column: Bareback Mountain - The Herpes Edition

Hi J-Wunder and Crew,

Thanks for a great blog, it really gets me laughing and is always real and true. That is why I want to ask your opinion of something kind of embarrassing. I contracted herpes from a douchebag. I kept fucking him because I wanted to get some, but I didn't want to be the girl who is spreading herpes around like wildfire. . Well, now I have come to terms with the fact that I have the herpes, and I got enough respect for myself to get fucktard out of my life. But now I am curious if there is a good way to break the news to someone I may potentially want a relationship with. Any advice is appreciated. Thank you for your time and keep up the great work!




Dear Fire in The Hole,

I have been reading and re-reading your question for the last week, trying to find a way to answer this. See, I have never even had so much as Chlamydia (and I have the letters to prove my cookie is pristine), so I have no idea how to tell someone they need to start wearing a Scarlet H, and when is the right time to let someone know your box looks like a witch’s nose. Damn, you have some fucking balls to write in with this shit. Kudos to you though for being honest because I am almost certain, 20% of our readers (if not more) have had some STD if not the good old Flamin' Hot Pocket.

I do have some insight on how NOT to tell someone that you have an STD, because it is something that I witnessed recently.

Picture this - West Palm Beach, New Years, 2013 (the ball had already dropped). A group of people are standing around, drinking sangria and watching the mother fucking fireworks over the intracoastal. It is a lovely evening and good times are being had by all. There are a few little sides conversations and some light murmuring and then all of a sudden someone yells:

"I HAVE HPV!!!!"

Talk about mood killers! Here we are, standing around, enjoying this beautiful South Florida evening and then we hear someone yell that shit out. All proud and shit. Like a mother fucker just won the 500 million dollar power ball right then and there. No one knows how to react or what to say, and now 2013 has an awkward blemish on it...that burns.

Like a herpes sore, if you will.

Even in the year 2013 there is no brain Valtrex or even a way to freeze the sore off our collective brains. We now have to live with the knowledge that this person has HPV...and so do all the people in WPB who heard it shouted out. And there you have my lesson on how NOT to tell someone. No need to celebrate that kind of shit...even if you have come to terms with it.

Realistically, if you are dating someone and you have legit fire crotch (and not just ginger/Flaming Cheetoh's pussy hair), figuring out when to tell them is going to be the goddamn dance you are going to have to learn the steps to, one vicitim, I mean partner, at a time.

There are a couple of ways you can do it, too. From the innocent, "Oh, I left my herpes meds on the kitchen counter and you saw them when I invited you in *giggle, giggle*," to the less subtle, "Yo, my shit is a little wrecked down there, wanna stick it in my dookie hole?" To the classic, "Hey, we have been seeing each other for awhile and I am digging you and you are digging me, so before this goes any further, I need to tell you that I have a situation that we need to talk about before bumping uglies gets real..." I would go with what is behind door three, but like Donny in the Big Lebowski, I am out of my element.

Whatever you do, do not perpetuate the douchebaggery that has befallen you because you feel hurt, betrayed or what the fuck ever, and NOT tell someone. At the end of the day, you let that skeezer fuck you with a dirty dick and you need to put on your big girls panties with the Valtrex lining and woman up. Yes, he was obviously Lord of The Douche, but you weren’t getting any MENSA invitations with your decision either, Busted Clam McGee.

I am sure I could have been less harsh on your and your down-stairs mix-up, but you seem relatively smart enough to know what you were getting into when you told us your deep dark secret. Thanks for sending that pic of your lady-junk. We passed it around, and no one could even tell that your lady business was harboring a secret.

AIN'T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR THAT.

All this writing about jammed up clams is making me feel like I need to go see the coochie doctor and get some pre-emptive antibiotics. I wonder if scotch or vodka taste better with amoxicillin? Only one way to find out.

And remember kids: Don’t ride bareback unless you want the herp to attack (J-Wunder...I am talking to you, The RINGER and that shit head, Anonymous)!

This PSA has been brought to you by the cleanest biscuit on the block,

H-Bomb

The Blame Game

Party in my Pants

JACKPOT!!!!!

It's not that kind of dessert