Here it is! The moment you’ve all been helping us get to. It’s the start of Sexual Health Week! There are Mojitos and Lattes on the veranda, and informational articles and personal tales right here in the lounge. So slip into something comfortable and read with us about why you should be concerned about your sexual health. First up is Alys on protection. Take it away, darlin’!

Protection. It’s almost an over-used word when talking about sexual health, which has the unfortunate side effect of almost numbing us to the message. I consider myself lucky that my story has a happy ending, because it could have all too easily turned bad. I could have become the precautionary tale told as an example of what could befall them if they didn’t acknowledge the importance of protection. I can easily say that using condoms is something that I will not overlook again.

It all started with my first lover. We had been friends before we were lovers, and I trusted him to keep me safe because he knew that it was my first time. He reassured me that we didn’t need to use condoms for protection, I was on the Pill and that was all we needed. The thing is, I can be a bit forgetful and remembering to take the Pill on time every day is essential to it being able to prevent pregnancy in over-amorous teenagers with more lust than good sense.

For nearly a year we were in a sexual relationship that was slowly wearing on me in an unexpected way. There is an indescribable fear that arises when you realize that you forgot to take yesterday’s pill, which brings on an anxious wait to see if your period will come that month. I knew that I was not ready to be a mother, just as I knew that he was not who I wanted to father my children. The emotional tenor of the relationship, for me, had become an uncomfortable balancing act between the pure, intense lust of someone whose sexuality has been newly awakened and the sheer terror of a period that is days late.

The other main concern when not using condoms is the all too real fear of STDs. When we first were planning on having sex we briefly had an awkward moment of asking if the other had been tested recently. At this point, my ex told me that because I was on the Pill and we we’d both tested clean, condoms weren’t necessary because we were each other’s only partner. As I found out after the end of our relationship this wasn’t exactly the case. In fact, my now ex-boyfriend had been cheating on me and all those reassurances could be believed as much as he proved that he could be.

My first visit with my gynecologist after the end of that relationship was very humbling and really drove the message home. I was honestly scared of the possibility that I might have gotten an STD. The other thing that made it an uncomfortable appointment was the nagging realization that I really should tell my gynecologist that I’d been having unprotected sex, so that she knew to test me. It’s a bad feeling, having to admit to doing something that I knew was not in my best interest, which was oddly made worse by her understanding. I know that she probably sees lots of people who have been in my situation, but that didn’t make me feel any better at the time because I knew that I should have used condoms.

For a while I resented my ex for putting me in such a bad situation. He urged me to trust him and he broke that trust several times over. As I’ve gotten further from the situation, I have slowly come to both realize and admit that I should be the one to take responsibility for my actions. I was a young, fairly naïve person who didn’t know not to trust the word of a horny teenager. But, like with most things, the experience was definitely educational for me, we all learn from the mistakes that we make. By writing this all down and sharing it with all of you, I hope that you can learn from my mistake and not make the same one yourself.

It’s no fun to be cheated on. Especially if you only found out after your relationship was over. I did regain power in our relationship in the end, though. This is my story.

My ex, let’s call him Sean, had cheated on a previous girlfriend, and I knew this going into our relationship. We’d discussed what had led up to him going behind her back for sex, and he reassured me that he couldn’t see it happening again, that it was just the product of the situation. I believed him, mostly.

I will not lie and say that we had a great relationship, and it probably should have been a hint to me, just how hard I needed to work for his attention, that it wouldn’t last. We were at school. I had gone to a different state for college, but was willing to make the five hour drive once a month to spend the weekend, and in the beginning he reciprocated. The thing was, whenever I was with Sean, even if we hadn’t seen each other in weeks, he always had plans. He would play basketball with some friends while I waited in his dorm room, or just play video games with his roommate while I watched; it never seemed like my presence was special.

He broke up with me on Valentine’s Day. Sean said he couldn’t handle the long-distance of our relationship, but, as it turns out, what he couldn’t handle was the distance between our beds. One of our mutual friends, who was sick of seeing how he treated his girlfriends, shared some pictures with me of Sean and another girl. The pictures were taken during our relationship, and what bothered me the most was that it was clear that he was doting on her. He wouldn’t even cuddle with me after sex, but he was sweet and loving with her!

The most ironic part of the story was how I gained a feeling of control over the relationship, once it was finished. About two weeks after he dumped me, Sean called. It was late at night and he was drunk to the point of being absolutely maudlin. He had called to tell me that he had made a mistake by breaking up with me, and to tell me that he was ready to take me back. By this time, I had already gotten word from several friends about how he had been cheating on me behind my back with at least two different girls. I had talked to his sister, who is a friend of mine, and she had told me that Sean’s explanation of our break-up didn’t match up with what had happened. I have a good core of close friends who were more than ready to tell me that I was better off without him, if being with him had made me feel so bad about myself. So I told him no. No, I was not going to go out with him. No, I didn’t want him to call me anymore. No, I was done with feeling like a second-class citizen in a relationship.

The ability to say no to Sean was positively cleansing. I felt better about myself, and I felt that I owed it to any future partners to discover myself, despite becoming a walking cliché. As a rule, cheating will damage a relationship, feeding upon the doubts of the one who didn’t stray. And while there are exceptions to every rule, having been cheated on I cannot advocate affairs, even though I am a stronger woman now than I was then. Maybe I should thank Sean. I probably won’t.

Valentine’s Day. To most it conjures up images of romance: flowers & chocolate, hearts & cupids, true love, or at least true lust. For me, on the other hand, Valentine’s Day seems to be synonymous with break-ups. Not all the stories were those of sad endings, but I can easily say that this time of year doesn’t necessarily bring happy thoughts to my mind.

The first Valentine break-up happened in high-school. This time, I was the one who did the dumping. We’ll call him Bill. Bill was sweet, but to be honest, we had NOTHING in common. To make matters worse, we were both pretty shy, and neither of was good outside our comfort zones.  The break-up didn’t go well. It was the first time that I had ever broken up with anyone, and I don’t think that I handled it well. In my attempt to spare his feelings I ended up dragging the whole thing out. It took him some effort to translate my efforts into the fact that I was attempting to break up with him. What makes me feel better about breaking up with Bill, is the fact that the very next girl he dated is the woman that he is still with today.

The second Valentine break-up came my freshman year of college. In an odd turn of events I ended up breaking up with myself. My boyfriend at the time, let’s call him Rick, was one of my best friends. This was probably a bad idea, and definitely led to our break-up. This break-up was almost a farce. Rick had never broken up with someone, and to be honest, I’d kind of seen it coming. When he asked to talk to me, I knew what the talk was going to be about. He ended up having such a hard time breaking up with me that I walked him through it, and comforted HIM! I also gave him tips to make it easier on him the next time that he broke up with someone. This took place a couple days before Valentine’s Day, and on the day itself, we ended up hanging out with a larger group of our friends to watch some TV show that we were all obsessed with at the time. To be brutally honest, things were a bit uncomfortable between the two of us for some time, but in the past couple of years we’ve moved past the awkwardness.

The third Valentine break-up was the worst. It happened during college, and it not only came out of left field, but I also found out at that he had been cheating on me for a while. This ex we’re calling Sean. I had taken a bus to make the four hour drive to spend time with him for Valentine’s Day. He took me out for pizza, and then asked me if I could get someone else to drive me to the bus station. His excuse for the break-up was that he couldn’t handle the long-distance that was our relationship. As it turns out, he couldn’t handle the distance between his bed and mine.

Based on my experiences, it should come as no surprise that I am not a big fan of Valentine’s Day. I don’t knock it for those who find it a wonderful day, full of warmth and happiness. Me, I’d rather celebrate Groundhog Day.