living positive by paul montero
Whether it’s splashed on all at once or poured on gently—drip by torturous Did this make me a misophobic little ingrate? No! At least not in my eyes. But
drip—scalding hot water stings just the same in any denomination. Being told I finally understood some of the reasoning that HIV-negative men go through
you’re a walking liability who’s too risky to love is a letdown that no polite pref- when gathering the nerve to decline an offer from a poz guy. Ironically, my current
acing can lighten. For some of us, Cupid is once again AWOL this year. Tonight’s mind set doesn’t see much relationship potential with a “neg” guy. Of course, we
previously scheduled production of St. Valentine’s Day will be scrapped in favor of don’t want to be closed-minded, do we?
the more mood-appropriate rendition of Singles’ Awareness Day (SAD). Still, the exact reason why my date waited until the end of the night to cut me off
Here’s the deal. The witty exchange between us was riotous. The attraction was still eludes me somewhat. Perhaps he was weighing his options while in mid-lip-
profuse and palpable. The shy, smiley glances that we let slip only heightened the lock with me. It could be that he couldn’t think of a suitable way to vote me off the
euphoria. We were on one of “those” dates—the kind where both men know it island until the very moment it came out. Or maybe he saw the suspension bridge
could easily lead to much more, and very soon if they’re not careful. It’s the sort of as the perfect opportunity to literally “drop” me. Who knows? What I do know is
rousing compatibility that strikes fear in the crotch of men everywhere because it that it takes zero effort on my part to verbally label someone a withering elitist for
prompts a reevaluation of their long-term wants. And we all know how young men considering HIV to be a deal breaker. Accordingly, it affords me no credibility or
feel about anything that begins with peace of mind to do so. But it has taken
“long-term.” In any case, a date with a great deal of examination to see
this degree of potential for success that writing someone off as a T-cell
occurs only once every five Cher snob makes me equally judgmental.
Farewell Tours. Cherish it as I tried, How do I know that HIV-negative
things looked promising up until guys are out to bruise egos? In all
we found a nice shade of seclusion likelihood, they’re not. It gives me
on the local suspension bridge. And a goofy little sense of peace that I’m
that’s when he dropped the bomb: able to acknowledge that.
“I’m afraid to care about you.” (Cue So now what? Some of us will
the blast zone klaxons). still be at home with The Golden
It’s actually a rather ingenious Girls on the 14th—alone. …Well,
(and very effective) way to get not completely alone. We’ll prob-
someone to never call you again. ably be accompanied by a ceremo-
Let’s dissect, shall we? First, you’ve nial cheesecake and an expensive
got the compliment factor which bottle of some sort. But a mood of
lets you know that you were at least begrudging singlehood may still
close to being worth the effort! be hanging over our heads. It will
Under that, there’s the “you’ve got undoubtedly bug the hell out of
the big scary AIDS thing, so I don’t some of us, too. And that’s okay, as
have to be held accountable for long as we don’t become embit-
dropping you right here and now” tered by that fact alone. Perception
layer of indisputable convenience. is everything. It’s what got me to rec-
And finally to top it off was his ognize my angry, critical hypocrisy.
precise timing, which is necessary I’m AfrAid to CAre About You It helped me see how lucky any of us
to complete the “trifectiveness”—
paul@ragemonthly.com
are to even be alive. We can perceive
He strings you along for sufficient our dating situation as a slump, or
time to ensure eventual bitterness, as a much-needed sabbatical to
but quickly enough to induce shock really figure out what we want out
and ensure that the anger won’t set in until long after you give him a ride back to of a relationship—or if our happiness wish list even includes having a traditional
his car. So now, in this most amorous of seasons, you can understand how hard it is relationship.
not to face our community’s fellow fellators with a less-than-enthusiastic expres- Among the more valuable perspective-granting wake-up calls I’ve received
sion as they shower each other with the affections they believe they deserve. lately, a recent message from Michael Mack stands out the most. In the message,
Actor/writer/politician Malachy McCourt is quoted as saying, “Having resentment Michael described the terrifying buildup of courage it once took to come out as a
is like taking poison and waiting for the other person to die.” And while I bear no long- gay man long ago, how good it felt to be accepted in the midst of a new truth…
ing for anyone’s death, I do believe that McCourt’s quote certainly captures the futil- and how he now has to come out again—as a HIV-positive man. Empowered and
ity of this semi-deliberate emotion. Now, to make it go away! As I begin to wonder at free of fear he boldly admits, “I am not ashamed of being HIV positive, I am not
what point in history HIV-positive status translated to a not-welcome mat in today’s proud of being HIV positive, I am just HIV positive.”
judgmental dating world, my disdain pauses long enough for me to remember my In hindsight, maybe the phrase “I’m afraid to care about you” isn’t quite so shock-
own short-sighted principles as a younger HIV-negative lad. Somewhere in my naïve ing, so insulting or even depressing in the least. Because the words themselves
formative years, I too surmised that I wouldn’t be able to commit to a poz man. The revealed it plainly: they’re scared; we’re not. We’ll never be afraid of loving and
provisions on sex, the eventual loss of my theoretical partner and the ever-present losing. And no matter how it stings, we sure as hell aren’t afraid of getting burned
possibility of my infection were all enough to close me off from that branch of men for again. Let’s live it up, San Diego.
many years.
36 RAGE monthly | FEBRUARY 2009
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