Safety first new rule for love relationships

    Do you really know the person you are sleeping with?
    I thought I did.
    My boyfriend and I had been together for a year and a half. Fate brought us together, or so I had thought.
    We met through a mutual friend and fell in love over pizza and an intense argument over politics.
    He wanted to change the world with new laws, an altruistic philosophy and honest government. I was impressed.
    Eventually, he asked me to move in with him. We were, I thought, the perfect couple-spiritually, emotionally and sexually intimate in what seemed like a sacramental union.
    Then, a few months ago, I decided to surprise him with an unannounced visit to his apartment. It turned out I was the one who was surprised.
    I walked in to find him in bed with another woman.
    The man who had reminded me everyday he loved me turned out to be a cheating womanizer.
    I felt ripped apart, hurt. I also still loved him. And my love for him would lead me into an even deeper despair that would spill over into every aspect of my life.
    His betrayal was consuming.
    Normally a good student, I my grades slipped and class attendance dropped. I had slipped into a mild depression, unable to comprehend a world that had suddenly turned upside down for me.
    Eventually, I started to move on. I slowly started spending time with my friends again, and life returned to normal.
    But then, a new emotion overcame me: dread. Did my boyfriend have unprotected sex with her or others? Could I have contracted a sexually transmitted disease?
    I made an appointment with my doctor to be tested for STDs.
    I was never so nervous or humiliated in my life. I didn't want to explain why I needed to see a doctor. I was sure that everyone in the doctor's office would think of me as irresponsible, promiscuous. But, thank God, my imaginings were far from reality. The doctor was kind and helpful.
    Alas, I learned that I would have to wait for a week before I would receive my test results.
    The short trip to my mailbox everyday felt like a death march.
    Everyday was a nightmare. I feared the worst and kept wondering: What would I tell my parents, my friends?
    Then the fateful letter arrived. I stared at it for a few moments before I deliberately opened it with a knife. I held my breath as I read the words on the page. I tested negative for everything. For the first time in weeks, I felt as if I could breathe again.
    I'm a different person now.
    Before I even have sexual relations again, I'll want to know, really know, the person.
    I know that sexually transmitted diseases are nondiscriminatory.
    My safety has to be put above all other considerations.