Came All This Way To Get Rejected By A White American
Not sure if the title sounds as unhinged as it feels
I think this will be my first “subscriber only” post. Not because it’s so good or anything, mostly because its personal and the guy who it’s about just started following me on ig.
Let’s get into it. I’ve been on my sabbatical, summer tour, trip, whatever you want to call it for 8 days. A week basically. Saying that feels crazy because it really has been a time already.
For example, I have my bag strapped around me as I write this because I realized this morning that all of my pesos are gone. I had about $250 USD in pesos and they’re gone. Fortunately my cards are still there. It could’ve happened any time, but honestly I think it was someone who was in my room. Either the other travelers or the staff. It sucks because it’s a really nice boutique hostel. I wish I booked the party hostel down the road.
Any-fucking-hoo that’s not what this is about. This is about me not getting penetrated Sunday night in Mexico City.
I hit the ground running in CDMX last Friday night. I wasn’t there for 20 minutes before I found “my crew,” the people I’d be spending pretty much every waking moment with for the next few days.
It was Saturday night, not that it really matters there because every night is lit. Everyone was on the rooftop figuring out plans for the evening.
So yeah, I met this guy at my hostel-famous last words for any woman who’s stayed in a hostel and traveled internationally, but whatever. You know when someone gives you the eye immediately, it was like that. He was cute and scruffy. I have sworn off white Americans for good reason but we were vibing.
We were totally hitting it off, but not only is he a white American, he’s only 25. I’m 39 and I was hoping he was at least 30 or 31, but I honestly didn’t care that much. The alternate universe you dive into when you travel is truly like living in a parallel time. It’s not reality AT ALL. Time is vastly skewed and I believe my aura is so different that people who know me at home or in my “normal reality” wouldn’t even recognize me. But wtf do I know, I don’t perceive myself so this is all lalalala.
So this guy and my crew go out. It was me, him, and a guy and a girl from Montreal and a guy from France. We went to this hush party that one of my old coworkers told me about. It was dark thankfully because were all over each other. I had my tongue between his teeth and he had his hands in my shorts.
Around 4 am we leave together. Now the age old hostel question? Where are we going to fuck? We were both in the dorms, not the same one but still. I can’t fuck in a hostel bed out of respect for the other people there, but also I’m tall and too loud. He was only staying for two more nights and joked about getting a private room for the last one, we chuckled about it, kissed goodbye and went to our rooms.
The next day I was busy. I tried to fit too much into one day. I went to two big markets, two museums and a library. I also put the wrong address in for uber and didn’t realize it until we had been driving for thirty minutes and my hostel was another thirty minutes away from where we were. UGH. To top it off the uber driver kept turning around to touch my leg and ask me if I’m traveling alone, if I have a bf and if I like mexicans. I’m not a good liar and hate doing it but it was necessary this evening.
So when I finally and I mean FINALLY made it back to my hostel I ran into him. Him meaning the guy. He was sitting on the couches in the common area. Side note: I love when hostels have a nice comfy common area.
We chatted for a bit and then he asked if I wanted to see what he bought that day. We headed towards his room which I thought was just one floor down but we kept going and when I mentioned it he told me that he did, in fact, get a private room. It was nice. Private rooms are like the best of both worlds in a hostel. You get the hostel vibe but don’t have to near anyone snore or coming in at 3 am being loud/packing at 6 am being loud.
He bought a cool print from a market and some stickers. Stuff I would’ve bought too. We didn’t waste much time looking at that though. We were on his bed soon after. I’m an adult, a whole ass 39 year old woman lmao, that’s so funny. But for real, I don’t like to waste any time. Which is why I felt like we had already taken things too far before I told him I have herpes.
I’ve known I’ve had it since I was in my mid-20’s. I think I got it years before though because it can be dormant for a long time. There are times I feel really badass about it like “idgaf who judges me for it and if you judge me than dont fuck me and lalala” but then there are times, a lot of times, where I am so self conscious about it that I can’t even talk about it.
There have been times in the past that I hadn’t told partners. I feel evil for that. It’s actually why I started therapy years ago. I couldn’t even say the word “herpes” let alone tell someone I had it.
One of my old therapists asked me to write down the word “herpes” and I couldn’t do it. That’s how much in denial I was in. So to be able to verbally say it is HUGE for me, but it still sucks.
All that to say this is the first time I’ve told someone and they decided not to go through with it which is kind of crazy. You would expect that to have happened yet. Sometimes when I’ve told guys I don’t even think they’re listening and don’t even care about themselves enough to give it a second thought.
When I told him (the white 25 year old American) he was totally cool and nice about it. It didn’t feel any more weird than it had to, of course it was a bit awkward because yeah, but you know that’s just how it is.
It’s not my first rodeo or rendezvous but it still hurts.
On one hand I’m like its totally 100000% reasonable. If someone told me they had an STI I wouldn’t want to fuck them, no matter how hot they are. I wish I knew before I was in cahoots with my summer fling in 2008 (at least that’s who I think I got it from idk). It makes total and complete sense, but it doesn’t take away the feeling of rejection and the self conscious feelings that come with1 it, knowing you have it and knowing you’ll always have it.
I don’t want herpes to be “my thing” like my brand or whatever the fuck. I don’t think that’s a bad thing though. One of my favorite ig’s is “Safe Slut” a badass girl from NYC who has honestly given me so much confidence about it because the stigma truly sucks. People always say that’s the worst part and its TRUE. I wish I could be more of a slut and not have to disclose but this slut has to so WHATEVER FOREVER.
Anyway not me being a sad girl at the beach, true pisces over here. Womp.