Out of balance: overheard conversations about HIV

My disbelief in astrological signs goes out the window when I find myself obsessively striving for balance – a quintessential Libra. After my HIV diagnosis, everything in life felt completely out of whack and disjointed. In an inept attempt to gain control, I began trying to force balance where balance need not be applied.

I was on a mission to find a swimsuit, hoping to find a happy medium between the slutty swimwear I once so desperately loved and the conservative board shorts I previously regarded as mainstream and dull. Perhaps such an object would help settle the guilt of my sexual past, without sacrificing what I had formerly considered essential for a good time.

I found a few items that fit the bill in a sporting goods store, but needed to try them on. I looked for a dressing room. I didn’t want to ask an employee for help; technically a person isn’t supposed to try on swimsuits without underwear. Feeling like I had an HIV stamp on my forehead, I sensed that nobody would want to buy something I had tried on.

After darting around the huge store I found a vacant dressing room. A good five minutes could have passed while I stared at myself in the mirror, evaluating my attractiveness. I heard female voices, and suddenly realized that, to my horror, I was in the women’s room. I quickly moved to the back of my stall hoping that these ladies would not see my hairy man ankles.

After weighing my options, I decided not to make a run for it but to continue quietly staring at myself in the mirror. I couldn’t help but eavesdrop on the girls, who were talking loudly.

They giggled about boys. I laughed along, to myself. These girls, not much younger than myself, were just out of their MTV age. I imagined them with bleached hair and fake tans.

“Well what about Michael?” One girl shouted to the other. “He is like … the most amazing guy.”

The other girl responded with sweet crooning, as if she had just seen a dozen puppies. “You are totally right. Michael is like … the most amazing guy. I would totally date him, well, if he didn’t have the ‘hiv’ anyway.”

Had I heard that correctly?

The first girl agreed. “Ugh, you are totally right. Deal-breaker.” Then without a breath they moved on to the next guy.

The way she said “HIV” phonetically, (rhyming with “the give”), sounded highly offensive. The blasé disregard cut through me like a knife. Desperately, I wanted to speak up and give these girls a piece of my mind. If nothing else, I wanted to defend this “Michael.”

The girls’ ignorance frustrated me. Since they hadn’t mentioned any apprehensions on dating a guy who could possibly die, I assumed they were at least somewhat aware of what a modern HIV diagnosis looks like. Beyond a lifetime of condoms for vaginal sex and pricey sperm washings for pregnancy, I could not imagine what other concerns they could have against a guy who is otherwise worthy of cooing. According to doctors, a positive/negative couple should have a relatively normal relationship (especially if the person with HIV adheres to their medication). So why didn’t Michael deserve a chance to date one of these now very shallow girls?

I choked down the urge to offer wisdom, in fear that I would get caught as some sort of pervert for being in the women’s dressing room. I couldn’t listen anymore as their talk rang out of hurtful nonsense. I gathered my things and ran out. I could feel my eyes tearing up, and didn’t want to cry in public.

As I sat in my car wiping my face, I realized that while their conversation may have revolved around Michael, my intense reaction was about myself. In a way, I was also Michael; another human being living with HIV. These girls had declared this man as a total catch only then to immediately disqualify him for having this disease.

A daunting prospect overcame my mind: no matter how great of a guy I could be, I may never be worth someone’s love because of my HIV status and his inability to learn what it actually means. It felt impossible for any Libra to find balance in a terrible thought like that.