poz
HIV positive issues by and/or for the poz community
I had just been serosorted; that term is for the act of sorting out guys by their HIV status. It had happened to me often online, but never to my face.
How could anyone want to get a disease, especially one so serious? How could someone want the very thing that wreaked havoc in my own life? I had encountered my very first bug chaser and loathed it.
I stood outside the building, bundled in my winter coat. I clutched my new yoga mat,…
In the mid ’90s, Garbage was the first band to unlock the secret success of combining rival music genres. Their specialty twisted between alternative rock and dance/electronica. After four albums, the band members called it quits in 2005 citing the greedy, controlling demands of record labels.
After I met Jack, I knew I found a guy I could really look up to. In his early 50s, he had been partnered for more than 30 years, established himself as a business owner, kept in shape, and had vivacious appetite for life adventure. Jack was the man I wanted as a mentor.
In the modern times when HIV meds work well, ‘undetectable’ has become a catchphrase. Unfortunately, the HIV-naïve don’t know what it means, and questions about the big u-bomb frequently arise. Does it mean that HIV is gone? Does it make sex safer?
Like gender or sexual orientation, HIV status has adopted its own offensive terminology that can be hurtful to hear. Phrases like “the hi-five” or “the hiv” (phonetic pronouncement of HIV) have made their way into our modern language. While these were probably conjured up as a way to make light-hearted remarks about a dark situation, rarely does anything feel light about them.
I suggested we take three steps to my bedroom. Mr. Rex stopped scanning the room and locked eyes with me.
‘Nevermind,’ he said. ‘I can’t do this.’
There are two sides of an HIV diagnosis: Hearing the news, and then breaking it. Figuring out who to tell and how to tell them can be almost as scary as finding out in the first place. For many, the first group on the docket is family.
In my entire life, I never thought I would seek retreat in a hot, stinky plastic outhouse as a sanctuary. But then again, I also never thought I would be attempting to ride a bike for 545 miles with more than 2,000 other people.
