Cleaning Up: #1. Blood
Wednesday, November 11th, 2009I missed yoga yet again on Monday, because I was doing something very, very important.
I have this idea, which is probably very heterophobic of me, that most straight people don’t really consider HIV/AIDS to be “their problem”. Yeah, they think, of course everybody can catch HIV, but not me, I never sleep with cheap sluts/ugly men/anyone who looks ill, so I must be safe. Or: I’ve only had one partner in my life and she is so sweet, she never wants to tell me about her ex-boyfriends but she’s so lovely and I met her mom, her and HIV? Please, she probably doesn’t know how to spell it! Etc.
Boyfriend and me went to a restaurant a while ago. They were playing a CD I enjoyed a lot, and I asked what was it — it was Jack Johnson. Jack’s lyrics are about banana pancakes, staying long in bed and being romantic while holding hands and looking deeply into his school sweetheart’s eyes. I am a romantic person too, and that’s why I find it very important to get tested together; because for a gay man HIV is a part of everyday life. Some seek it actively, some get drunk and high to avoid thinking about it, some — like me — are simply very, very aware of its existence and while they do not discriminate against those who have it for whatever reason, they do not have a wish to join their ranks unless of course that can not be avoided.
As I was sitting in the waiting room, waiting for my result — after boyfriend already got his, and it was negative — thoughts ran through my head. I’ve never had any unsafe sex, not since my last test, right? When was N.? That was May-June 2008, so if my last test was August, perhaps there was something… undetected? Did he really wear a condom that last time? What if it burst?
Another thing: I don’t really believe in 100% safe sex, except for being in a monogamous relationship with a trusted partner. There is safer sex, but 99% and 100% are very different in very many ways. Does anybody really ever use condoms for oral sex? I never met anyone who does. What about my dentist? Is he as clean as I like to think he is? What about my tattoos — yes, there has never been a case recorded of HIV transmission that could be directly linked to tattooing outside prison, but what if I am case #1?
And then the lovely doctor (nurse?) emerged from her room with a smile on her face and I knew my worries were unnecessary; everything was alright, she said, warmly smiling. I wish you a nice relatie… relation… ship? — she added, unsure of her English. Thank you dear, I replied in my head. I wondered if she knew how big a step this was for me; I consider getting tested together more important than getting married. If you get married, and you sleep around, you risk lawyers’ fees, breaking the Holy Institution Of Marriage and generally lots of spending and paperwork. If you get tested together, stop using condoms with your partner, but continue to sleep around, you risk your life and your partner’s.
For a gay man living in Amsterdam, I am practically a Victorian virgin; I never went to sex clubs, never had sex in a sauna, never left a party with someone else than I arrived with. I like Jack Johnson’s view of life, and I like being realistic. We’ll eat banana pancakes once my 30 day challenge is over, and we’ll enjoy sex in many ways and positions, knowing that we won’t give the person we love a gift they will never forget or get rid of, as hard as they may try.



