THIS IS ME+

Let me start by introducing myself. Hi there, my name is Matt*. Why the asterisk? For most of my adult life, I’ve felt that getting to know me completely came with one of those annotations as a reference to additional information. Hence the asterisk, or better suited, a plus sign. And this is where my story begins+.

+Read on for more information

I’m so fortunate to be alive today, when being gay is mostly accepted and embraced. Heck, my best friend and I both won the ‘Prom King’ title at rival, suburban high schools—that Netflix pilot just writes itself. I also know I’m very lucky to live in a time where living with HIV doesn’t own me.

There it is, a much-needed admission to a big part of who I am. This piece, however, is not intended as a coming out (as positive) story, but more a stripping-down (see photo) to reveal more of myself to a community that has become my family. In breaking down my own wall, I hope to encourage others to do the same, and I’m not just speaking to those who are positive.

For, as amazing as our LGBTQ community is, we deserve deeper relationships with one another. In a growing world of divisiveness, I want us to move our family forward with all walls down.

So there I was, bright-eyed and naive to the world as a freshman in college. A young boy who had never used condoms—a failing in responsibility shared with my older, dominant partners as well as a heteronormative sex education—who went in for his first STD test the day after a fabulous Valentines’ date. Just hours later, as I walked the beloved boardwalk lined with palm trees on campus, I heard my phone ring. The University doctor called me back to her office in a stern voice. Suddenly, the Arizona sun was glaring down on me, and then everything flashed white. At the age of 18, with my whole world ahead of me, I was diagnosed HIV-positive.

The entire weekend was a perpetual buzz in my head. With a constant stream of tears on my cheeks, my mom flew in for the weekend; friends consoled me, and I knew life would carry on without me, and so I went right back to classes on Monday. I powered through.

I didn’t let it define me; why should it, nowadays? It isn’t a death sentence anymore, as it was for millions before me. We now live in a time when modern meds work in just one pill a day, and Undetectable = Untransmittable.

Since the start of the epidemic, more than 38 million people have died from AIDS-related illnesses. At the peak in 2004, there were 1.4 million deaths, which was then cut in half to 770,000 in 2018. We have come a long way, but there is still so much more ahead.

Today, you could ask, “Why does it matter to come out as positive?’ That’s exactly what I thought. I carried on through college, my early career, and the entire decade of my 20s only divulging my story to a few. Half of what I told myself was, “It doesn’t matter. Nobody would care, so why share?” But the truth was that I was living in a constant state of fear that I could lose everyone forever.

As my diagnosis was such a big part of my story, experiences, and journey to adulthood, my steady silence was breaking me down bit by bit. A decade of constant feelings of inferiority and shame led me to engage in sexually degrading encounters with anonymous partners to fill an inner void, creating a taller wall around me. Looking back, my emotional health had been slowly eroded by this wall I placed between myself and loved ones.

But, the problem was that it was an epic, life-changing event. I switched majors, moved back home from out-of-state college, and grew up way too young. Being diagnosed was the single biggest moment that has defined my adulthood, and yet until now, I couldn’t bring myself to share it with the ones closest to me. For someone who has always put others before me, this coming out as positive is simply a declaration of self-care. I need this for myself, to become my whole self, to love my full self.

The Gay Veil

In the bubble of social media, we are constantly caught up with what everyone is doing but not exactly who they are. And, as amazing as our community can be, the bubble floats into real life as well into happy hours, nightclubs, beer busts, and more. I call it ‘The Gay Veil,’ and no, it’s not Netflix’s next dating show for homos.

We often don’t truly know the people sitting right next to us at happy hour other than their social persona and that they last vacationed at Puerto Vallarta’s #GaysforDays. In fact, there are close friends whom I have hung out with for five-plus years, and I don’t even know their day job—now, alcohol has a huge part in that memory loss, but we don’t have time to unpack all that.

To modern gays’ credit, social media has allowed us to ‘friend’ more people than ever before. It’s quite a talent to just know 300 first names, but that friendship pool is getting more diluted by the day. These curated personas and impossibly perfect influencers are tearing down our emotional health one finger tap at a time. We’re sharing more from our last brunch and less of our latest dream or disappointment—providing our followers content without substance.

There are many analysts who have said we have reached a possible peak in digital interaction with the growing desire for deeper, human connections—personally and professionally. Don’t forget, however, the gay scene is in a bubble co-existing in an entirely separate ecosystem with recycled interactions for partygoers from ages 18 to 88. I’ll admit, life inside the bubble is incredible, and we should feel fortunate to be surrounded by so many like-minded acquaintances, but it has to go deeper.

This modern scene has embraced and revived subcultures from the late 20th century with underground sex parties, fluid sexual experiences, and kink exploration for any desire. The rise of PrEP and open-minded views on drugs and sexual relationships have popularized raves and sex parties again. As someone who self-describes as a partial nudist, I, too, accepted my desires more openly.

Everyone was acting more positively and openly about sex. However, no one was talking about positive sex, or protection, whatsoever. From my experience, there is a sharp divide of condom use between Americans and much of the world. I get it; it’s hard (pun intended) to talk about protection during the heat of the moment, especially in an era of PrEP where your risk doesn’t include HIV. And yes, we’ve all been told of the other risks with infections, but that changes nothing in the easy era of barebacking.

In this moment more than ever, we should know that new viruses will come, sometimes in an epidemic or as an antibiotic-resistant STI. I challenge us all to do better. As we’re living through the COVID-19 crisis, feelings rush back to me from the beginning. misinformation, healthcare coverage, the need for closeness. We’ve taken everything from modern medicine to physical touch and unprotected sex for granted in a seemingly invincible universe.

As a sexually active, submissive partner, I do feel I had less of a voice in using a condom. After all, isn’t the thin layer what harms the top’s sex drive or erection? This is why dominant partners need to empower their partner’s voice, because ultimately the bottom absorbs more of the risk.

Reveal Yourself

Through all this self-discovery, I met the love of my life seven years ago who was completely accepting as we educated each other throughout the journey. No longer newlyweds, our married life has only pushed our wishes to have more. More growth individually, together, and with friends and family.

So here I am, 30 years young, attempting to lift the Gay Veil and release all the honest beauty underneath. Phones down for this next bit …

In an egocentric, digital world, let us create settings where we can get to know the people we love on a more profound level while also allowing opportunities for new faces to enter our sphere of happiness.

For instance, in the last few months, my friends and I have started playing a game of our invention called “Interrogation”—(no handcuffs involved … yet). It’s simple—you take turns asking inquisitive questions for the group to answer such as “favorite hobby from childhood,” “best vacation spot to date,” or “which sibling you like the best.”’ (I mean, gays do love their drama, right?)

So far, the game has been a great success. We are slowly understanding each other more fully as imperfect humans. We have a common thread in the LGBTQ fabric to bring us all together. We are more than a single fiber, and we need to be more open to each other, to heartfelt conversation, but more importantly, to ask others about their past, daily lives, and desires—and then listen intently.

It may have taken me more than a decade, but I’ve learned to own my past as it defines so much of me and continues to shape me moving forward. A plus sign next to my name, but no longer blocking my views on the horizon.

So, this is me. I’m Matt+, and I welcome anyone to ask for additional information.

And now I ask, who are you? What makes you tick? We’re all interested to know you+.

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