Sometimes, friends have the answer.

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Daisy is still upset though. As much as this isn’t the life ending, earth-shattering end of the world feeling it was yesterday thanks hugely to her GP, (who may be a real-life angel) she is still bereft and feels dirty and soiled.
Daisy’s phone beeps. It’s C. C has just moved into a castle. Yes, literally a castle. She has done it, in the style of only C, with those gorgeous sexy see-through plastic moving boxes which she admits cost her and her partner around 2K. It also transpires that C has three stick blenders. This is hugely fortuitous at Daisy wanted to buy her father one for his birthday, but a combination of a lack of finances and uncertainty over wattage had held her back. (When something varies between 200 – 1000W and all you will probably be doing is soup it’s hard to know which one to choose without assistance). C buys a new one every time she can’t find hers so now has three so is happy to donate one to Daisy so she can give it to her pa a belated birthday gift. The photo she sends of the emersion blenders is of them lying vertically with cables stretched out. They look unnervingly like some form of sex toy. Daisy doesn’t hesitate in mentioning this resemblance to her father when she shows him the picture. As some who when he transfers £15 to his wife and entitles it ‘sex’, it’s not like he doesn’t have an odd sense of humour anyway.
C is sorting out the unloading of her plastic boxes in her new kitchen as they talk, and suddenly screams.
“Oh God, what’s wrong?” asks a worried Daisy sure some terrible incident or situation has befallen her good friend.
“There are no drawers!”
“No drawers?”
“There are no drawers in this whole kitchen! No drawers in this whole house! The guy who did the interior must have been a drawer-ophile. There are no drawers at all! Wait a moment! I’m going to facetime you with this…”
Shit thinks Daisy. She is having a particularly ugly day. Her face has decided to get all bloated, and in her attempts to try and sort her nose, she has caused it to erupt into pimples. Fuck.
“Erm, I’m not looking great…”
“Don’t worry!” shrieks C.
“I’m looking rough too, but you have to see this!”
The phone goes dead, and suddenly Daisy is looking at her own face as the phone demands that she accept C’s Facetime call. Here goes nothing…
The screen lights up with the picture of a cupboard door, that then, accompanied by C’s shrieks of dismay is opened to reveal cupboards. C then provides a tour of a kitchen filled with plastic storage boxes, and cupboards. Daisy can’t stop laughing. It’s a veritable nightmare. Cupboards are a nightmare, Marie Kondo would not be impressed. Marie Kondo loves drawers. Drawers are the answer to most organisational situations. Drawers are like air. Without them how can one live? At the other end of the line, C twists the phone around to show her gorgeous youthful face. Her hair is tied back in a rough bun with one of those 1960’s hair bands that shows off her exquisite jaw structure. Despite being 32 she doesn’t look a day over 27. (A combination of some amazing combination of creams, potions and possibly Botox). Daisy yet again makes a mental note that once all this shit in her life calms down and she has some money she will undoubtedly be seeking antiaging advice from C.
“I can’t believe this! A £2.5 million property and there are no fucking cupboards! Anywhere!”
“Not even in the bedrooms?”
“No. None.”
Neither girl can believe the ridiculousness of this. Their shared love of tidiness and OCD tendencies mean that the lack of drawers is something they both feel strongly about. But also, that they also both find this lack of something so essential, ‘fall on the floor’, ridiculous.
“I love you,” says Daisy. And she means it. Without knowing it C has managed to make a devastated, emotionally destroyed Daisy laugh and smile.
This beautiful girl come, woman, that she has never met, is a kindred soul beyond anyone she could have imagined or hoped to have in her life.
“Love you too hun” comes the genuine response.
The camera goes off and they are back to old skool phone chat.
“So what’s up hun?” says C, and Daisy knows this isn’t just the ‘what’s up?’ of a casual hey there. It’s what’s up of someone who cares.
Daisy takes a deep breath and tries not to cry.
“So I got the test back, and it’s positive.”
“Hey sweetie, are we talking about Herpes? Are you positive for Herpes?”
There is a pause. Daisy holds her breath. She is unsure of what will come next but is worried. Will she be shunned? Will she be rebuked?
“Hun, I’m going to tell you this because I know she won’t mind. You know T?”
T is C’s twin sister. Just like C, she is gorgeous. An ex-model now training to be a lawyer, living in New York with her boyfriend who looks like he stepped out of Gossip Girl.
“Well, both T and her boyfriend have it. They both have Herpes. Have done for years. She got it when she was 16. Her boyfriend at the time, Mike, went down on her when he had a cold sore and she got it. It was so painful when she went to the Dr she told her to piss in the bath, and then to treat it, to put Aclivovir on it.”
Daisy is in disbelief. If this beautiful, talented young lady who looks totally normal can have this horrid sounding disease then maybe, just maybe… She feels tears beginning to well up.
“I’m telling you this hun because I know if she was here now she would be telling you and would want you to know you aren’t alone. This is a skin condition. That’s all it is. And if anyone goes getting all funny with you about it, well then they are uneducated and talking shit they know nothing about. If you had a friend who had a rash, would you not like them? Stop being their friend? Not fancy them? No. It’s a bullshit sweetie. Bullshit.”
Daisy feels the tears falling down her cheek and a sense of relief washing over her. Maybe life isn’t ending after all.
“The fact of the matter’ continues C, in a ‘fact of the matter’ voice.
“The fact of the matters you don’t need to tell every future sexual partner you have that you have it. You are only contagious in the middle of an outbreak, and let’s be honest, you won’t be playing with fire anyway and having any more unprotected sex will you?”i
“Christ no!” says Daisy shocked at even the mention of more stupidity.
“When you do meet someone special,” continues C, “we will discuss how you discuss it with them, ok? When the time comes, we will.”
There are times when phone lines disappear and there is nothing but you and the other soul, connected through life, pain and love, and right there as Daisy cradles the phone, tears rolling down her cheeks she knows that she is truly lucky to have such an amazing friend.
“Thanks” she manages to croak, knowing that it really doesn’t feel enough.

You can find more information about talking to your partner about Herpes here –

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