The OZ version of herpes

If you were to visit the Mayne Australian Rules Football Club, in Brisbane, these days you would find it hard to believe that in the late 70's this was a thriving venue.  The club is now a shell of nearly forgotten memories and the ghosts of Sunday nights still possibly haunt the residents of Grafton Street and surrounds.

This is where my story begins, one Sunday night that set up a meeting for the next Sunday night that changed my life.

Try and picture the images of people arriving in droves to see if luck would be theirs this Sunday.  The car park was full of cars containing overnight bags packed with work clothes and toiletries.  In those days if you were caught drink driving then, you were 'A Bloody Unlucky'.  (In Australia the anti-drink driving campaign is "Drink and drive, you are a bloody idiot"). How any of us managed to do a proper days work on Monday's is beyond me.

Of course not everyone drove.  Others like me would use a taxi, as well as those that would walk from the Albion train station.  Everywhere you looked there were guys dressed in tight pants, tight shirts and if you were blessed enough to have a hairy chest, the shirt would be opened down the front to expose a large piece of jewelry hanging from the neck.  The women all seemed to dress like Freda from Abba and their hair ranged from Stevie Nicks to the tightest perm imaginable.

There were always a variety of perfumes in the air that would now alarm an environmental protectionist.  There was not a hair out of place and it was obvious that the women had taken all Sunday afternoon to prepare - and the guys even longer.

The main entrance to the club was almost Las Vegas in its style with its flashing relay lights and activity.  Large groups would make their way up the well-lit stairs passing football triumphs and memorabilia along the way. Upon reaching the top you couldn't miss hanging on the wall, enclosed in a large glass frame, a skinned and mounted Tiger to represent The Mayne Tigers Football Club.  I always felt uncomfortable about the death of a magnificent beast being used as a display.

The cabaret room was very large, as it had to be to cope with the hundreds of people that would pour in.  The décor was ultra 70's including the mandatory disco ball above the dance floor.  There was at least two dozen long tables that could seat about 30 or 40 people at each one.  They were lined running parallel to the stage all the way down to the bar, which was at the back of the room. The dance floor was in the front of the stage, which was to your right upon entering.  The stage itself was big enough to host comfortably a number of musicians and the female lead singer from the band known as the Clefts.

Sadly for me, disco music was all the rage and I hated it with a passion. The Clefts at least did covers from Fleetwood Mac, Peter Frampton, Bob Seger and one of my favorite songs, The Four Seasons', 'Who Loves You'.  Even Elvis' memory was not spared with songs reminding us of his death less than twelve months earlier.

The bar was very large and well staffed to fill those jugs of beer and Rums and Coke.  Yep, it was another Sunday night, it was the 70's and Mayne Footy Club was not just a night out, it was an event.

In amongst all of these tall and good looking men were those like me. I was not gifted with great looks and (in a term that would have had us shaking our heads in confusion back in the pre politically correct days), am vertically challenged standing 164 cm (5'4").

Aged just 17 I should not have been allowed in but I was part of the football club so my age was overlooked.

I was more of a hippie in jeans and preferred shirts that brought back the memory of peace and love; I even had a few paisley ones.  My favorite footwear was a pair of Addidas Romes (which for some reason was pronounced Roms).  My hair was blonde and long and I was evenly tanned.  My face had not yet met the need to feel the touch of a razor and I was always very clean and tidy.

Every Sunday night I would arrive with hope, but got as far as that poor dead tiger only to be told by the doormen, "Come on Mark, you know that you can't get in here dressed like that."  It didn't sink in that I would save so much more money if I didn't get a cab home every week, change my clothes and get the cabby to drop me back.

I would return in clothes that were more befitting a Bee Gees concert than those that would have me feeling comfortable as I sought out my desperately needed conquest - to achieve manhood in the celebratory way.

Every Sunday night I had optimistic thoughts that this would be the week, but after many trips home alone truly believed that I would die an old man without knowing what sex would feel like.

The competition for female attention was fierce, and while now in clothing more fitting to the surroundings, I never felt comfortable. My verbal skills were non-existent due to the amount of marijuana that I would smoke before arriving (add to that the amount that I would smoke while there so I could tolerate disco music).

At the time I was sharing a house with one of the senior players and I often sat with him and other team members.  Because the tables were so large, and drinks were scattered all over, it was not uncommon to begin a conversation with an unknown girl by asking, "Is that your drink or mine?"  Well, it's a lot better than "Don't I know you from somewhere?"

One Sunday night we (football players) ended up sharing a table with a small group of women that were there just to drink and dance.  Although obvious to me that they were not there to find love or sex it was not too conspicuous to certain others in the group.

There was an attempt made on each girl by each guy a few times through the night.  Every one of these women was very pretty but one girl, Tracey was just so incredibly beautiful and I was too scared to look at her, let alone talk.  Tracey received the most attention from the others but showed little interest in any of them.

After some time had passed I had drunk enough confidence to begin a conversation with a couple of them, but still was too scared to talk to Tracey.  Later on, and to my surprise, she broke the ice and started talking to me.  I found it hard to believe that she was so beautiful and so nice. In my world, at the time I found it rare for those two traits to be built into the one female.  Tracey was 18.  An older woman!

I remember little else about her now.  We just hit it off and we were inseparable through the night.  Despite getting hit on all of the time by the guys, Tracey and a couple of the girls came back for drinks at our house.  They may not have been out for sex, but they were out to party.

Now I am not trying to suggest that football players have inflated egos however these guys would not let up on trying to have sex with them.  I think that some of guys actually believed that it was their right as well as her good fortune.

She was a classy lady and took it all in good stride.  I was so happy because from the first time we spoke at the club until she went home the next morning, Tracey and I were side by side.  While sitting with her I think that I heard from the guys every 'come on' line known to man.  Due to thinking that I had absolutely no chance whatsoever of Tracey ending my affliction known as virginity, I was free to be me and we just talked and talked.

Much to the disappointment of the guys, the girls caught a taxi home in the early hours of Monday morning.  I am pretty sure that I was the only one to escort them to their cab.  As Tracey got into the car she gave me a kiss and thanked me for treating her as a human being and not a piece of meat.  She then asked if I would be going to the club the next Sunday and I told her yes.  Wild horses were not going to stop me from seeing her again.  I still did not have any thoughts that anything would happen between us but I enjoyed her company so much that I could not wait to see her again.

The next Sunday night I arrived at the club again in jeans.  For some reason I was still unable to have it sink in that I was not going to get past the doorman.  As I was getting my weekly lecture from the doorman to go home and change, Tracey who was already inside, came running out and asked me what was wrong.  I told her that I did not have enough money to get a cab home and back again as well as pay the entry fee and drinks.  I told her that I was going home and staying there.  Tracey told me that I was the only reason that she came and insisted that she pay my cover charge.  I tried to stop her but she paid it while I was standing there.  I had no choice, it would have been rude of me not to go back.

I was very excited about seeing her and the fact that I was the reason that she was there that night filled me with so much joy.  Because my cover charge was already paid for I went in and the doorman gave me a look of encouragement as I walked past him.  He was a lovely middle aged bloke dressed in black and white with the red bow tie.  He always treated me well even though every week I made him earn his living.

Tracey was hanging around waiting for me.  We sat alone in a corner with each other all evening talking about anything and everything and going round for round with drinks.  People would come up to us and say hello but most of the time it was just her and I.

Later in the night my happiness was electrified for the fastest split second recorded in history when she suggested that we go to her place - and I could meet her parents too.

How my hopes were raised and dashed so quickly in one sentence is still with me today.  Meet her parents?  I was not thinking at the time of happy families.

We were though by this stage holding hands and kissing each other on the way to her place.  My hopes were high but the "Parents" thing was still weighing heavily on my mind.

We finally arrived at her place, a really old and dilapidated house in need of a lot of work.  Sure enough, in the lounge room watching television, a mother and a father, yep two parents, a set of protectors that were going to stand between me and my new beginning.

Another disappointment was confirmed and I once again saw those regular subconscious visions of my tombstone stating, "Here lay Mark who never lay".

I was so thrilled, sitting next to and holding hands with the most beautiful girl in the world - with her parents.

To my surprise Tracey stood up and said that she and I were going into her room.  Her parents didn't seem worried and said goodnight to her.  They told her to make sure that she locked up when letting me out.  At last we were to be alone together.  My passion did rise but her parents being in the house was not filling me with hope.  By this stage I was so very, very ready.  As it turned out, so was Tracey.

We lay on her bed and we undressed each other in the most romantic three seconds of defrocking I have ever known.  Here I was, with this most beautiful woman, me a virgin and not knowing what it was that I was doing, but I seemed to be doing what I was doing well enough.  However, while we were enjoying each other, I was always freaking out about her parents in the house though.

Tracey owned a single bed that made enough noise to wake people from another post(zip)code so I suggested the floor.  Being an old house the slightest amount of speeding up caused the house to shake like an earthquake and her bloody wardrobe kept hitting the wall.  Eventually we settled on a wonderful evening in her old Mini Minor parked in the backyard.

Despite the hurdles we were up against, what followed that night and all the way through until five in the morning was one of the most wonderful nights in my life. Tracey had not only showed me the joys of sex, but she taught me to allow myself to be free sexually.  Although the car was cramped and uncomfortable, it was a beautiful night.  It still surprises me how her parents did not know what was going on before we sought the privacy of the Mini Minor in the back yard.

Because it was still in the warmer months of the beginning of the year, the sun came up fairly early.  Both Tracey and I had no sleep and we decided to get a little before having to get up and go to work.  She went to her bedroom and I crashed on the couch.  She woke me at 7am before her parents got up and we said goodbye to each other.

She stood at the top of the stairs; I was about two steps below her, as we said our final words to each other.  I could tell that Tracey did not want this to happen again which left me feeling a little empty, however I was at last 'a man'.  That was going to get me through.

For almost a week I could not get the smile off my face.  Sadly I never saw Tracey again.

It was in that week that I was developing an itch on my penis.  Having heard stories of VD I decided that I should get it checked out.  It didn't worry me too much though because the people I knew that had contracted anything sexually were cured.  I was also young and actually felt good about having VD as if it were a badge of honor - proof to the world that I was no longer a virgin.

It bothers me now to think that I actually thought like that but I was young and male.

In most cases the modern day Sexual Health Clinic's are just fantastic by way of their surroundings, information as well as medical and emotional support.  I wish that I could say the same for the 1978 version.

The 'Clinic' (which I think was its real name or a nickname, not sure) at the time was located near the old Wharfies' Club in the city.  I am not sure if this was a planned location.  The high rise apartments and fancy lifestyles that are now there were still 15 years away and I think that the current residents would be horrified to think that such an establishment once existed nearby.

If an entrance to a place could fill you with so much confidence, the "Clinic" didn't have it.  Nearly a hundred years of usage, not history...usage, greeted me as I entered and walked down the stairs to the basement of the old red brick building possibly built in the late 1800's.

Once inside the confidence of a routine visit to a doctor became less prevalent.  Behind the counter worked a young woman that looked tired of hearing stupid jokes like "I bet you like your job" or "I would like you to take a hands on approach with me" etc.  I know that she was tired of those lines because I used them myself.  Her facial expressions gave that away.  I was young and once again now reel in fright at my immaturity.

Once the paper work was over, the nuts and bolts of my check up was about to begin.  An old man wearing a lab coat and resembled one of the mad scientists from a 'B' Grade horror movie came out to get me from a fairly busy waiting room.  At last it was my turn.

The doctor escorted me into a cubicle that was separated from the others only by curtains.  This place looked more like something that was ready for demolition.  It was a dive.

I was asked to pull down my pants and underpants while the doctor inspected my penis in his gloved hand and told me that I have herpes.  I was then informed that I will always have herpes and to bathe it in warm salt water until the sores went away.

He handed me a cotton wool ball and a dish of warm salt water before taking me to 'the toilets' and showed me how to bathe my penis.  I proceeded to do this over a public toilet bowl that was older than me.  Now I was beginning to feel dirty.

That was all I was told.  Not once was an explanation given to me of the meaning of,  "You will always have herpes".  I left there feeling a little better though because the itching was soothed and I felt that I was going to cured in a few days because of the salt baths.  I was never asked to do a follow up visit nor was I given any literature to read etc.  It was as simple as I have explained - have herpes, will always have herpes, bathe it in salt water and, "Goodbye."

Fortunately, I am lucky enough to be one of those that had (I use the past tense as I have not had an outbreak for 8 years) maybe only two or three outbreaks a year lasting a week or so.  Even considering my desperation to become 'a man' I was never one that chased after sex with just anyone. While a lot of the guys around me were going through sexual partners like there was no tomorrow, I didn't want to just have sex.  I knew that I was not mature enough to form a relationship, so I didn't engage in a lot of sexual activity for the sake of it.  I had girl friends along the way, but nothing too serious for a long time.

It was to be nearly twenty years before I became completely aware of what it actually is that I have.  Although not having a lot of long term partners within that period of time, I do now look back on the few sexual partners that I did have with hope that I did not give them the herpes virus.

In 1996 I answered an ad that I spotted by accident in a singles magazine. It was from a woman on the Sunshine Coast (north of Brisbane) that began her ad with the word 'Herpes.'

It twigged my curiosity and I sent a reply.  To my surprise she answered me back and we ended up meeting each other a week later.  This was a turning point for me and I became a bit more interested in herpes and what it is and means.  One other moment was to make me seek all the information that I could find and that is when I met a girl that I fell completely for, Adrienne.

I met her through a former girl friend.  I knew how I felt about Adrienne from our very first words to each other and, as history will record, she liked me as well.  It took only two weeks for her and I to make a commitment to each other - we would see each other exclusively.

I had not told her about herpes up to that point, as I was not sure where we were going.  I made an appointment to see my doctor from that moment. Adrienne knew that I had something medical to tell her but I needed to know what I was really up against before I told her.  We had not been intimate by this stage.

My doctor informed me of all of the information that, in truth, I should have known.  He also informed me of a side affect free drug that is an anti viral medication used as a suppressant.

The hardest moment of my life to that point was to tell Adrienne.  She was waiting for me in the kitchen at my place when I got home and I was just so scared.  She could tell that I was visibly shaken by the fact that I was shaking from head to toe.  My speech was shaky too, but she held me in her arms and asked me what it is.

Adrienne was more worried that I was seriously ill.  I said to her straight out, "Adrienne I have a thing called Herpes."

What came next I was not expecting.  Apart from the fact that she knew about herpes, more than I knew in the almost twenty years of having it, Adrienne held me in her arms and said, "So what Mark, it is a cold sore and it doesn't matter because I love you."

Adrienne and I were vigilant in keeping an eye out for any attacks.  It was not like an inspection every time we had sex though; we included it into our foreplay and lovemaking.  We always wore condoms for the first six months of our relationship, however Adrienne decided (we did talk about it but I left this decision entirely up to her) that she was willing to take the risk and continue our sex life condom free, as at that stage we both wanted to be together forever.

Sadly Adrienne broke off our relationship after twelve months for a reason I am still yet to know, but she told me when we were breaking up that herpes was not a reason.  She does not now have from herpes.

The break up with her hurt me so much and I went on a very strange journey of emotional recovery.  Through phone dating services, singles columns in newspapers and the Internet I met and slept with about a dozen women while searching for a replacement of Adrienne.  I told every one of these women about my having herpes almost before knowing anything about them.  Two reasons I suppose.  One I wanted to have them in the position to think about
it before going ahead and meeting me.  The second reason was more from the emotional viewpoint.  What would happen if we fell for each other but she couldn't deal with me having the herpes virus?  What a mess that would be!

It may seem strange but I was rejected for sex only once.  In amongst those girls I met two that already had herpes themselves.  I am still good friends with two other girls that I was not intimate with - they too have herpes.

The acceptance of me by non-herpes women gave me the confidence to believe that not every one is going to run away.  Unfortunately my grieving for Adrienne was the reason why I could not form any long lasting relationship. Although there were many women in my life I was at that time really living as an emotional hermit.

One night a couple of years after breaking up from Adrienne I started talking on an Internet chat line to Louise.  She and I connected and we began to email each other, and look forward to chatting on line each night etc.  It was obvious to both of us that we had an incredible communication connection via the written word, but could we continue this in person?

One night Louise rang me and we talked for about ten hours straight.  I was so tired that I didn't go to work that day.

Louise lived a few hours from Brisbane so we couldn't just drop over and see each other so we talked for months every night about life.  There was not a phone call that lasted less than four hors.  I fell in love with her before we had met.  Much to my joy so did she fall in love with me.

Buoyed with confidence that not everyone I tell was going to run away, I brought up the subject of STD's etc during one of our phone calls.  While I had prepared myself for days to broach the subject it was still a very scary moment with the fear that I was going to lose at least the chance of meeting Louise but I had to, needed to and wanted to tell her about the herpes virus.  Louise's response?  "Thank you for being honest with me."

Louise went on to tell me how wonderful she found me for taking her feelings into account and then knocked me down with her next comment.  "Mark, I think that I am falling in love with you and we should meet."

We met weeks later and our relationship blossomed from there.  We got engaged and moved in together but Louise and I could not make it work due to other issues and we called it off not long before the wedding.  This crushed me more than any disappointment that life has thrown at me.  Herpes again had nothing to do with our break up and I am so happy to say that Louise is herpes free.

Louise suffers from clinical depression.  It is severe but I didn't know just how severe it is.  Living together brought out the nasty side of her illness and I believe it will make it impossible for her to live a normal and healthy life with another person in her life.

I'm not blaming her.  I too have to take a lot of the responsibility of our relationship breakdown.  I was ill prepared for her illness.  She knew how to deal with my situation but I was unable to find an answer to hers.  Don't get me wrong, I tried and tried hard but there are some things in life that just can't be achieved.  Louise and I were one of those 'unattainables' in life.

At this stage of my life I am very much single.  Herpes has nothing to do with my single hood; in fact I have met more people in the last two years due to herpes.  Of course I would again love to have that relationship happiness that we all deserve and wish for if and when we are ready.  My time is not now but fate is fate and it will happen when it happens.

As part of my own therapy trying to recover from Louise, I created, by accident, a local Internet herpes support group that has nearly 300 members. It grows on average by two or three a week due to the word getting around, those new to herpes and those that want to move forward.

There is also a 'Herpes Resource Center,' a Brisbane support group that puts on monthly get together's and support.  These nights are so very important to all concerned because it offers not only support but also make it real by communicating with others that know what it is we share.  Let me tell you that we bloody party too.  It's a huge night out when we get together.

There also is to some the chance of perhaps meeting a future partner without ever wanting to feel the stress of those words that need to be said, "I have something to tell you".

For the record, no matter who you are, where you come from or how safe you are in a partnership, herpes is always a possibility but it is not the end of love, sex or life!  Some things happen to good people too.

Well I hope you are ok with reading the OZ version of this.

Take care to you all,

Mark :o)

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