Just Another Folder (Part II of II)

I could not stomach being in his presence any longer and left a few moments later. He texted me several minutes later and asked if I was upset and apologized. His apology didn’t matter to me at this point. He even had the audacity to hint around that he wanted to fool around. I was offended and I told him that it was best that we never saw each other again. I cried. I cried for being so stupid. I cried for letting him disrespect all this time. I cried because I diminished my self-worth every time I was involved with him.

All these thoughts ran through my mind. What if he actually slept with that crossdresser? Did they had unprotected sex?  Were there more? Also, how many women did he have unprotected with? What if he infected me with HIV? My last HIV test was January 2012. Why did I wait so long to get retested? He wasn’t the only person I was sexually involved with. What was I thinking? I needed to get tested ASAP!

The next morning, I purchased OraQuick In-Home HIV Test at the pharmacy for about $40. My heart raced on the walk home. I could barely breathe. I read the instructions over and over again. After several minutes of calming myself down, I finally took the test. I swabbed my lower and upper gums and placed the test stick inside the test tube.

After 20 excruciating minutes, I pulled off the cover to reveal the results. There was one line by “C” and there wasn’t a line next to “T”. It meant that I tested negative for HIV. Even though I was relieved, it still did not give me peace of mind. I had to retest in a clinical setting. I had to be sure.

A couple of weeks later, I went to the clinic and took a STD and HIV screening. The HIV results came in 45 minutes and were negative. I felt so at ease and it taught me a good lesson. It taught me that I cannot trust anyone with my body. It is my responsibility. I also need to get tested regularly especially if I’m sexually active. I also should have protected sex 100% of the time. It also taught me that you never know what someone is hiding from you. I would have never dreamt that he had an affinity for crossdressers.

We have not communicated since that night.  We cross paths on occasions and pretend that we don’t see each other.

Related articles

Just Another Folder (Part I of II)

On my way home a few weeks ago, I ran into Soothed. He invited me in to catch up. I told him briefly about a guy I was interested in and he told me about his dating life. He went to his computer to show pictures of them. I felt that it was weird that he wanted to show me photos but I went along with it. I was curious anyway. Also, a part of me felt that he did it out of jealously because of the new guy or to one up me.

I assumed that the photos would come from a dating or social networking site but boy was I wrong! He had a special folder on his computer dedicated to these women—about 60 of them. I asked if he slept with all them and he claimed that he only been with about 60% of them. He gave a brief description, pointed out their character flaws and the reason(s) why they no longer dated. It was a bit TMI but curiosity killed the cat. I was used to his ramblings. The women he met online were from different walks of life and nationalities. Some were fully clothed, in lingerie, or naked.

I spotted a folder with my name on it. I asked him to open it. In this folder, in all their glory, were nude pics I sent him 2-3 years ago. I was shocked that he still had these photos. Thank goodness they were faceless! I asked him to delete the photos in a jokingly manner but a part of me knew that he’d probably dig them out the recycle bin or had backups elsewhere.

He went through a folder of someone that he dated sometime in 2010.  He said that it didn’t work with her because, “It was a sexual thing for me. I didn’t have romantic feelings with her—just like with you.” I was shocked. I wasn’t shocked because he didn’t have romantic feelings for me. I already knew that. It was how nonchalant the statement rolled off his tongue. Why did he feel the need to remind me that he never wanted to be with me.

“You didn’t have to say that,” I irritatingly replied.

“I was just saying. I wasn’t trying to be rude.”

“You didn’t have to say that,” I repeated.

His statement and the redundancy of the folders began to irritate me . I wanted to leave but didn’t want to do it so abruptly. I was too proud to show that he got under my skin. He opened another folder by mistake and backed out of it quickly What I saw couldn’t be unseen. It was a picture of a cross-dresser.

“Was that a tranny?” I asked as nicely as I possibly could. “Is there something that you want to tell me? I won’t judge.” I lied. I was judging. Judging harshly.

“Yeah. It’s a tranny,” he said as he reopened the file, “Nothing ever happened. It was just photos.”

Just photos? A part of me didn’t believe him. What straight man has pics of a cross-dresser in a red teddy and matching boa? What skeleton just landed out his closet and unto my lap? What was I suppose to do with these bones?