THE BLOG
10/31/2014 04:04 pm ET Updated Dec 31, 2014

Herpes, the Love Bug

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You know how they say, "Karma's a b-tch?"

Boy, is she ever.

And though, admittedly, it has taken some time for me to fully appreciate her twisted sense of humor and how quickly I get "dinged" for my past -- whether it's having to go back to sleepaway camp to lead workshops as an adult when I loathed camp as a kid OR the fact that when I went back to said camp and was handed a dreaded microphone (as if I don't already know I sound like Fran Drescher), I made the mistake of joking out loud, "What next, a TV camera?" and, a week later, I had a camera in my face for a TV audition OR the fact that I'm known today at the Handel Group as the resident "love coach" and back in my single days, I was, without question, the lamest of lame daters.

Need I say more?

OK. One more. How about the fact that when asked, as the resident love coach, about how/when I knew my husband was my man, I have no choice but to tell the truth and my herpes story.

Yep. If that's not karmic payback, I'm not sure what else is.

In fact, just the other day a friend called me in a panic, fearing that he might have gotten herpes. Then, after calming him down, and even giggling at and with him, I once again shared my herpes story with him and anyone that was sitting in my vicinity or (fine I'm loud even without a microphone) the entire Virgin Airways terminal at LAX.

The tail (misspelled on purpose) goes something like this:

Many, many years ago, I was at my best friend's brother's wedding. And before I sat down (yes, wiseass, at the singles' table) my best friend pulled me aside and begged me not to touch the only hot, single, cynical man at the table. She had a crush on him. Of course I said, "Okay," but with the caveat of "only if SHE goes for him."

Hey, at the time I thought I was being fair, motivating even.

Sure, he and I flirted. But, like a good friend (cough, cough) I didn't give him my number. I just told it to him. Keeping me kosher (style) and figuring, he'll never remember it...

But, as luck (ha) would have it, he remembered my number and, yep, under the guise of visiting my kid sister, I FLEW (uh huh) to Washington, D.C. to see him.

And, boy, did I come home with a souvenir from the capital.

Within days, I had the worst sore throat I have ever had, a fever and (an already condescending to begin with) doctor's diagnosis. It seems karma is not only a b-tch, she's just and she's apparently tight with my best friend from high school. Trust me (shut up) I so know that the only reason my BFF forgave me as quickly as she did was because I got what I deserved.

But, that's not the end of the story.

As many of you can relate or if you know someone who has herpes, that having to tell the person you are about to jump you've got it is worse than the outbreak itself. 'Cause truth be told, which it has to be, as cute as you may be, who the heck wants to risk getting herpes if they barely know, don't necessarily really like and/or trust you?

After I found out I had herpes, I can tell you exactly how many men I slept with before I met my mate: two. Long gone were my meaningless one night stands. Truly, they weren't worth the effort of figuring out how to tell someone I had herpes and still try to come out of the conversation looking cute...

But, I'll never forget my last time telling and not just 'cause I have to keep telling it...

We were messing around and it was the dreaded "time to tell" again. It was, I swear, like reliving the embarrassing time (see karma = bitch above) I told my mom that I got my period. So there I went, awkwardly telling him that there was an x percent chance that I could be contagious and have an outbreak tomorrow and, even worse, not know it. And, as he was going down (still) he looked up at me and said with the cutest, thickest Israeli accent and bored/been there/done war tone, "Do you feel lucky?"

Boy, did I.

Okay, FINE. As duh as it may now seem, what if the true b-tch isn't actually karma, it's me? And, what if herpes was not only a lesson for my bitch, BUT a leash, causing her to slow the f-ck down?

Literally.

Forcing said b-tch to only biblically be with men whom she liked, whom she trusted enough to tell, who liked her enough to jump without a net and risk something.

A karmic b-tch of a lesson for sure but, an interesting wedding gift as well. No? And, certainly, one that lends a whole new meaning to a gift that keeps on giving...

Love,
Marnie

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