19 December 2011

Weighing the Negatives and Positives

I am negative.

As we say "peace out" to the year 2011 and "bonjour, girl" to 2012, I look back at how much fun and men I've had. Kidding, kidding . . . kinda. In looking back around this time (and the week of NYC Gay Pride), I also get tested just like I have since I became sexually active over a decade ago. It's responsible. It's smart. It's the perfect way to perpetuate my Catholic-guilt (the "if I'm positive, I deserve it" attitude.)

The week of waiting was absolute torture. So many "shoulda, woulda, couldas" that I tried to remember every hook-up since my last test. I'd come up with crazy memories of each where I'd recall giving a really good blow job and ponder what if I bit my inside lip and the guy was pre-sperming? What if it got in there? Why didn't I use a condom?! WHY DIDN'T I JUST WRAP MYSELF UP IN SARAN WRAP?!! WHY DIDN'T I JUST JERK OFF INSTEAD OF GOING TO [insert any hook-up site]!!! I'd panic for a few minutes and get distracted.

I remember back in the day when I first got tested. I slept with a guy for the first time. He was Middle-Eastern with the biggest tool I had ever seen - in person. I remember chatting on-line with him on AOL Chat (haha). I was driving back from college for mid-semester break in October and was nervous and excited wondering what it was going to be like and if it was going to hurt. I was not even prepared. I talked to him a little. He knew it was my first-time, which looking back I realize he probably didn't believe. How many guys say "it's my first time" for the effect? In any case, it was my first time. Well, if he didn't believe me when we sat to talk about his job as a mail carrier and his aspirations to be in the FBI, he definitely believed me with his first thrust and my blood-curdling scream, single tear included.

After the weekend, I came back to college and found counsel in my fraternity advisor/gay mentor. I confided in him that I was convinced I had AIDS; he day after my romp with the mailman, I went to take a dump. It felt like I was shitting out beer bottles - of the broken variety. When I looked down after the movement, the bowl was full of blood. I was panicked and had to hold myself up fearing I was going to pass out. My professor told me not to worry, but if it would make me feel better, I should get tested.

Since then, every six-months, I go get tested and always wait that one week for results with mandatory reflection. I am always repentant, always apologetic and still hold my breath a few moments before the doctor utters those three words...

On the other hand, why should I be so relieved if I am careful? Of course, I am negative. So stop getting so worked up.

Point of the conversation: You reap what you sow.

- DeeCue

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