I, I, I...
I am hiv+.
And, more especifically...
... yesterday (fake date), just like that, I forced myself to go on a blind date...
it was my first blind date in years, literally, and it was with another hiv+ positive man… it happened in Barcelona, which is my city now and for now.
It was kind of good, as it was slightly exciting (and nerve-wrecking to the point of anoying: "Why am i putting myself through this? Why am I meeting someone I felt like meeting yesterday at 0:02 but not at all today at 18:30?");... other positives: I felt I like was out there (like the truth on The X Files), alive, and last and actually least, he was a really, really nice guy… but...
... it was a little bit depressing too: inevitably, we ended up talking about hospital experiences, and the words "meds", "fungal" and "sarcoma" came up with enough frequency for romance to not quite take off (and yesterday I wanted romance... when I asked for an orange juice --"look at me I'm so healthy and sporty, I drink orange juice constantly"--, I knew I wanted romance... fresh romance); we were not exactly doing what I saw actors and actresses doing on first dates in all those idealised movies… There was no fungal talk in those movies; a headache at best; never anything as ugly as infected toenails, or truly deathly/chronic like hiv.
It was bound not to work, especially since it was a calculated encounter, a calculated romance; how clever... and so, ok, it didn’t work.
But I tried. And I may try again. I am defiant in defeat. Because you see...
... I want to be out there like the truth on The X Files, and get my heart trampled on (I think).
What are my chances of this happening:
1) I either meet somebody by chance in, let's say, the bakery or the library, hit it off, then later “confess” my hiv status and hope for the best (no rejection of any sort on his part... on my part, well: no self-rejection, not feeling like I cannot keep putting on that childish I-haven't-broken-a-plate-in-my-life face, which I like and have to use on first dates; why shouldn't I be able to put the face then? The little demon says: Because now he knows you have the retrovirus, so he know you have broken a few plates you filthy slut), or...
2) I “calculate” a meeting with someone I don’t have to make so much of a confession to because he knows I'm positive before I meet him (the internet helps with this... a sharp scratch and it's done: you're exposed to a total stranger... fantastic!)... He could be hiv-, or we could both be hiv+ (how retro)... or...
3) I lie/don't metion anything about the retrovirus ever, ever, ever (I'd have to hide the pills and make sure I've got fake not-sexually-transmitted conditions for that chance encounter at the hospital... I have done this in the past and I do not, I repeat I do not, recommend it)... And yeah, I know: being dishonest is ultimately a no no in a relationship... or...
4) I remain single for the rest of my life, which is completely ok and probably better.
I will be honest: if the confession bit was not part of the picture, because I don't like that bit, then the bakery situation would be my first choice: romance, a chance encounter, all very casual because I am so cool, calm... and generally hungry.
And the sad thing is that, seriously, not so deep inside, I want this, I want it very much, depending on the day and the time of the day, of course.
So I am off to the panadería to buy a napolitana, and the retrovirus is coming with me, because, like or not, he has to be fed.
I am hiv+.
And, more especifically...
... yesterday (fake date), just like that, I forced myself to go on a blind date...
it was my first blind date in years, literally, and it was with another hiv+ positive man… it happened in Barcelona, which is my city now and for now.
It was kind of good, as it was slightly exciting (and nerve-wrecking to the point of anoying: "Why am i putting myself through this? Why am I meeting someone I felt like meeting yesterday at 0:02 but not at all today at 18:30?");... other positives: I felt I like was out there (like the truth on The X Files), alive, and last and actually least, he was a really, really nice guy… but...
... it was a little bit depressing too: inevitably, we ended up talking about hospital experiences, and the words "meds", "fungal" and "sarcoma" came up with enough frequency for romance to not quite take off (and yesterday I wanted romance... when I asked for an orange juice --"look at me I'm so healthy and sporty, I drink orange juice constantly"--, I knew I wanted romance... fresh romance); we were not exactly doing what I saw actors and actresses doing on first dates in all those idealised movies… There was no fungal talk in those movies; a headache at best; never anything as ugly as infected toenails, or truly deathly/chronic like hiv.
It was bound not to work, especially since it was a calculated encounter, a calculated romance; how clever... and so, ok, it didn’t work.
But I tried. And I may try again. I am defiant in defeat. Because you see...
... I want to be out there like the truth on The X Files, and get my heart trampled on (I think).
What are my chances of this happening:
1) I either meet somebody by chance in, let's say, the bakery or the library, hit it off, then later “confess” my hiv status and hope for the best (no rejection of any sort on his part... on my part, well: no self-rejection, not feeling like I cannot keep putting on that childish I-haven't-broken-a-plate-in-my-life face, which I like and have to use on first dates; why shouldn't I be able to put the face then? The little demon says: Because now he knows you have the retrovirus, so he know you have broken a few plates you filthy slut), or...
2) I “calculate” a meeting with someone I don’t have to make so much of a confession to because he knows I'm positive before I meet him (the internet helps with this... a sharp scratch and it's done: you're exposed to a total stranger... fantastic!)... He could be hiv-, or we could both be hiv+ (how retro)... or...
3) I lie/don't metion anything about the retrovirus ever, ever, ever (I'd have to hide the pills and make sure I've got fake not-sexually-transmitted conditions for that chance encounter at the hospital... I have done this in the past and I do not, I repeat I do not, recommend it)... And yeah, I know: being dishonest is ultimately a no no in a relationship... or...
4) I remain single for the rest of my life, which is completely ok and probably better.
I will be honest: if the confession bit was not part of the picture, because I don't like that bit, then the bakery situation would be my first choice: romance, a chance encounter, all very casual because I am so cool, calm... and generally hungry.
And the sad thing is that, seriously, not so deep inside, I want this, I want it very much, depending on the day and the time of the day, of course.
So I am off to the panadería to buy a napolitana, and the retrovirus is coming with me, because, like or not, he has to be fed.
2 comentarios:
Excelente título para un blog, te seguiré encantado, y sobretodo mucho mejor, si lo traduces al castellano...
Abrazos y a seguir escribiendo
Muchas gracias
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