And we both learned our lesson about cheating
By: Nelson in Boston
I’ve been with my boyfriend now for around 5-years. We’re both about the same age; I’m 29 and he’s 31. The arrangement we have was supposed to be monogamous … only it wasn’t because of me.
Before I continue I want to say that I love my man dearly. There isn’t anything in the world I would not do for him and I am pretty sure he feels the same way about me. It’s just that sometimes you get the urge to wander off the reservation, if you follow my drift.
A little over a year ago, I was involved with a gay volleyball team. You know – it’s the type of activity that a lot of us gay men join so that we can say we are involved in “sports” but not so overly aggressive as to encourage injury serious. If you are on a gay hockey team, more power to you!
I joined the team because my boyfriend thought it would be a good idea for me to socialize more. He was right. All I really ever did was go to work and then hit the gym for weight training. At night, I would come home to an empty house because my guy worked the second shift. Joining a team just made sense.
So one evening after a scrimmage game, I spotted this smoking hot dude playing for a competing team. Think Jesse Metcalfe, minus all of the tattoos. He had a scruffy face, blue eyes and a well-built frame that was not overdone – like a muscular wolf. I’m thinking he was around 33-35?
Did I mention he checked me out too?
So we both found ourselves over by the bench grabbing a cup of Gatorade. We introduced ourselves and I found out his name was Pete. The conversation went like you might expect: “Where you from? How long have you been playing? Are you dating anyone?”
It was still fairly early and I knew my boyfriend wouldn’t be home for at least 3-4 more hours. When Pete invited me over to his place to “hang out” I didn’t say no. I was very honest with him and shared that I was already partnered. He was insistent and that kind of turned me
Look, I realize this was stupid and I shouldn’t have done it but I totally did.
We did our thing and I will confess here that in terms of the hookup, it was just “OK”. It wasn’t the Fourth of July but it also wasn’t a total yawn. When we were done, he promised, “Your secret’s safe with me”. I left and before long, I started to feel super guilty for what I had done. It didn’t help that I reeked; a combination of volleyball stink and the man-scent of Paul.
When I got home, I jumped in the shower. I wanted to purge myself of any trace of what had happened that day. If probably went through half a bottle of liquid Dial.
And so that night, my boyfriend came home and we did our usual thing. I asked him about his day, he asked about mine … blah, blah, blah. Before long, it was time for bed. I can remember putting my head on the pillow and thinking to myself, “Whew – he doesn’t suspect a thing!”
And then the next day came.
I was at work and stared to notice a bit of an itch around my abdomen. At first, I didn’t pay much attention until it started to intensify. I’m kind of hairy – most people would describe me as kind of an otter. Before I could get up to visually inspect what was going on, my phone started to blow up with messages from my boyfriend.
“Dude – WTF – I have crabs!” and “Who did you mess around with!?”
Between his text messages and my itching, I was having a hard time keeping it together. Apparently, the little critters I had caught at Pete’s place had hitched a ride home with me and not washed out in the shower. I didn’t even know I had them. They must have infested the bed that night and made a trail over to my boyfriend’s bod.
When I got home later that day, my man was there and was big time furious. He had the bedsheets on the floor and was getting ready to toss the mattress. I told him we didn’t have bedbugs and that we didn’t need to junk it. He would have none of it – out the door it went, along with the box spring, sheets, pillows and padding.
Later, when things had calmed down a bit, I confessed what I had done. It went better than I expected but I could tell he was pretty pissed off. At some point, we both ran out to the drugstore and picked up our own treatments for crabs. “Don’t ever do that again or we’re done” I remember him telling me. I promised I wouldn’t and we both tried to put the incident behind us.
Fast forward three months later.
My boyfriend had started to develop little blisters around his genitals. We both noticed them one evening when we were trying to get our mojo on. When I asked him about it, I could tell he was caught unaware and didn’t know they were there. He totally freaked out and was at his doctor’s office the very next morning. He’s one of those impatient Taurus men that wigs out easily. He’s also real stubborn.
So after he was done seeing his doc, he texted me shared that he was diagnosed with genital herpes. I was like, “Are you kidding?!” I didn’t want to have this conversation over the phone and suggested he come home to talk.
That’s when he told me about his own little extra circular activities. That’s right – I said activities. Apparently, after the crab thing happened, my man took it as a permission slip to find a “regular” to hook up with from Craig’s List.
He said that he knew who gave it to him because on the way home from the doctor’s, he called the guy up and the dude confirmed he was recently diagnosed. “I’m sorry – really”, I remember my man saying to me as he looked at his prescription of Valtrex.
Fast forward again …
About 3 weeks later, I started to notice the same blisters around my pubes as my boyfriend had. Off to the doctor I went and got the same diagnosis as my man – genital herpes. Now both of us were on the meds.
It’s been six months since this happened and the both of us are in couples counseling. We’re trying to work on trust issues and communications. I was angry at first that he gave me a STD but I couldn’t really hold a grudge. After all, I was the one who cheated first (at least I think I was) and introduced crabs into our bed and onto my boyfriend.
For now, we’ve agreed to not cheat again. I’ve promised not to step out on him and he’s agreed not to do it either. Hopefully, we’ll make it but nothing is promised.
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