So, I told him that it didn't change anything, which wasn't entirely accurate -- because it did. What I meant was, I didn't want to break up with him because he was HIV+. He broke down in tears on the phone, and I just listened. I waited. After his last tear dried, there was an eerie silence.
All sorts of thoughts raced through my head. Now that we had expressed our willingness to keep this thing going, my attention turned to getting tested again. When I got to the clinic, they had me fill out all sorts of paperwork with questions. I felt like I was going through a confirmation hearing, and I carefully weighed my options on whether to do this thing anonymously or not.
Ultimately, I was HIV-... which was a relief, even though in the recesses of my mind, there was only the slimmest chance that I'd be otherwise. It was a scary experience, and I had to critically assess whether this is something I could do on a much more regular basis. This is what I'd be going through every 3 months for as long as I'm in a relationship with him. On top of all the other sources of anxiety in my life, could I have bitten off more than I could chew?
Then, my best friend from Chicago, IL -- one of the best flight attendants in the world (*grin*) -- called me to find out my results. Up until now, he only had a light dusting of details; a synopsis of the entire timeline. So, I filled him in on all the intimate details from the beginning of the relationship to the current moment. He sensed relief and something else in my voice. Some sort of alarm sounded in his head, and something I had just told him convinced him to hop on the very next flight down to Dallas. He was coming to look me in the eye and repeat everything I just said... and I damned well knew it.
As I made my way from the clinic over to get a coffee at the Crossroads Market, my friend was already getting preparing to take flight. I'll be the first to tell you... this friend of mine is the nicest, sweetest guy ever. However, he's the type that can spot a "Bull Shitter" a mile away, back up a mile, and still hit that Bull Shitter between the eyes with a pea shooter from 2 miles away. I had less than 4 hours to gather myself, because if anyone could make me look hard into a mirror -- it was him.
Hidden to me at the time, there were several things I told him that didn't add up. He was coming on a rescue mission... to rescue me from a world that I was powerless to hold together.
All sorts of thoughts raced through my head. Now that we had expressed our willingness to keep this thing going, my attention turned to getting tested again. When I got to the clinic, they had me fill out all sorts of paperwork with questions. I felt like I was going through a confirmation hearing, and I carefully weighed my options on whether to do this thing anonymously or not.
Ultimately, I was HIV-... which was a relief, even though in the recesses of my mind, there was only the slimmest chance that I'd be otherwise. It was a scary experience, and I had to critically assess whether this is something I could do on a much more regular basis. This is what I'd be going through every 3 months for as long as I'm in a relationship with him. On top of all the other sources of anxiety in my life, could I have bitten off more than I could chew?
Then, my best friend from Chicago, IL -- one of the best flight attendants in the world (*grin*) -- called me to find out my results. Up until now, he only had a light dusting of details; a synopsis of the entire timeline. So, I filled him in on all the intimate details from the beginning of the relationship to the current moment. He sensed relief and something else in my voice. Some sort of alarm sounded in his head, and something I had just told him convinced him to hop on the very next flight down to Dallas. He was coming to look me in the eye and repeat everything I just said... and I damned well knew it.
As I made my way from the clinic over to get a coffee at the Crossroads Market, my friend was already getting preparing to take flight. I'll be the first to tell you... this friend of mine is the nicest, sweetest guy ever. However, he's the type that can spot a "Bull Shitter" a mile away, back up a mile, and still hit that Bull Shitter between the eyes with a pea shooter from 2 miles away. I had less than 4 hours to gather myself, because if anyone could make me look hard into a mirror -- it was him.
Hidden to me at the time, there were several things I told him that didn't add up. He was coming on a rescue mission... to rescue me from a world that I was powerless to hold together.
TO BE CONTINUED
No comments:
Post a Comment