500 Words or Less Writing Exercise 2: HIV and Me.

500 Words or Less Writing Exercise 2: HIV and Me.

I am of a generation who has taken medical advancements for granted. An age group that lacks the sexual responsibility instilled via the fear of a disease, a fear fueled by watching those you love die from it. Presently, I have dated serodiscordantly and I have been careful about it. There is one man in particular who I care for, a man I have known for such a short time, but a man who has filled my heart with so much inspiration and compassion that I did something I swore I never would do; I got a tattoo in his honor of an AIDS ribbon with the word “hope” on it.

I know now had I not had a taste of the fear that I imagine once ran rampant in the 80’s and 90’s I may still be uneducated, willful, and wanton in my actions. In the past, I dated a man years ago whom I trusted for all the wrong reasons. I was clean from drugs and even though I KNEW the signs, I believed he was too because he said so. When he said he was faithful, I believed him even though he left the bars without me in the arms of men who “were just friends,” even though I KNEW better. So why did I believe the lies if I knew so much? The same reason that I believed he had been tested and I had nothing to worry about when he told me. I wanted to believe. I wanted to believe I was safe.

I remember how badly it felt to jump through hoops to try to keep a man who could care less about me. I remember how horrible it felt when he broke up over the phone without so much as a reason as to why I wasn’t right for him. I remember how painful it felt to see him on a gay chat site within a week looking for a “big d***ed athletic man” to dominate him for the night. The worst, gut wrenching moment was a month after we were finished he called and asked me if I was “sitting down.”

I don’t know if I was working, but I know my mother and I were on a cigarette break at the hospital, chatting in the van. My phone rang and it was him. The conversation was so short, so to the point. He was positive. My world crashed. Shame, guilt, fear, helplessness, and regret flooded me. Those feelings were with me through years of testing. I know better, I know now how slim my chances of infection were, but the fear was still there.

Now I give to amfAR on a regular basis and I take extra precautions that I didn’t before, but I can’t help but wonder about how many people were like me, only not so lucky. In the end, I tested negative.