
Sitting in the sexual health clinic early one Saturday morning, the doctor’s face was confused.
I’d just disclosed that I thought I had contracted gonorrhoea from kissing a stranger in a club.
She said: ‘I haven’t heard of that before.’
I immediately felt like I wasn’t being taken seriously. As though she assumed I was naive and clinging to a convenient excuse.
But I can categorically say that I didn’t do anything more than kiss – and that’s how I believe I contracted my infection.
A few weeks earlier, I was in a nightclub and made out with a guy on the dancefloor.
I’ve been with my partner, Alex*, for several years. We’re mostly monogamous, with the exception that I sometimes kiss people in club settings.
It’s an arrangement that works for us.
That night in the club, I kissed this stranger a few times passionately over the course of the evening.
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And that was it. No sex. No other contact.
A week later, my throat was covered in white bacterial spots. Tonsillitis, said the doctor. I was prescribed a course of antibiotics and I was better in a few days.
But within a few weeks, Alex started experiencing a burning sensation when he urinated. We assumed it was a urinary tract infection so he sought help and was prescribed some medication.
But something didn’t quite add up. As the weeks went on and Alex’s symptoms worsened, I racked my brain for other explanations.
I can’t remember exactly what made me question it, but I googled ‘can you get an STI from kissing?’ That’s when things changed.
One of the first hits, published only a few weeks earlier, was a piece in the Standard that cited an Australian study that suggested ‘kissing, but not sex, is the strongest risk factor’ for oral gonorrhoea.
He’s now waiting for an operation that could have life-changing consequences like incontinence if it doesn’t go well
I discussed it with Alex and we both agreed that this felt plausible given our symptoms and experiences in the weeks previous.
So we went to a sexual health clinic one morning for a walk-in appointment.
Within a few hours, we both had our answer: gonorrhoea. It wasn’t really a surprise, more confirmation. After all, we’d read the study and our symptoms and experience matched up.
But this is when I had the interaction with the clinician who felt dismissive of how I contracted the STI.
Alex’s clinician was even more resolute – categorically saying it wasn’t possible to get gonorrhoea from kissing. It left me frustrated.
Thankfully, I was lucky. I had a mild case and was treated quickly with an antibiotic injection. But Alex wasn’t.
The antibiotics cleared the infection and he tested negative a few weeks later. But symptoms persisted.

Over time, he developed complications – a fistula near his anus. It took several visits to both the sexual health clinic and his GP before anyone took the problem seriously or made a connection to the infection.
Eventually, he had to push hard to be referred to hospital. He’s now waiting for an operation that could have life-changing consequences like incontinence if it doesn’t go well.
But according to UK health guidance, what happened to us isn’t even possible. In fact, multiple regional NHS websites categorically state it’s not possible.
And when we tried to speak up about it, I don’t think we were taken seriously.
Gonorrhoea is surging in the UK, with case load records being broken year after year. There are even strands of what’s being called super gonorrhoea, which is resistant to antibiotic treatments.
Men who have sex with men are among the groups worst affected. I believe it’s another example in a long history of queer people and other marginalised communities being failed by public health bodies.
There are even strands of what’s being called super gonorrhoea, which is resistant to antibiotic treatments
The recent announcement of a gonorrhoea vaccine being rolled out from August is great news. But the NHS doesn’t need to wait until August to broaden their advice.
Maybe the evidence around kissing isn’t yet conclusive enough. But surely that’s a reason to say more, not less.
Health authorities and researchers in the United States and Australia both acknowledge that gonorrhea can be transmitted this way. But the NHS has been slow – stubborn even – in updating its guidance.
A line in NHS guidance that says something like this would be a start: ‘Some research suggests transmission may also be possible through kissing, though more studies are needed’.
Instead, Alex and I were left in the dark. And one of us is now facing a serious operation as a result.
For us, this wasn’t about being reckless or irresponsible. It was about being denied the information we needed to manage our own risk, and being dismissed when we tried to speak up.
The vaccine is welcome. But it won’t fix a public health culture that still fails to listen to – or inform – the people most at risk.
*Name has been changed
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