It took about 15 minutes before he asked what I do for a living. Scruff dates can be awkward at first, so I was content to forgive his incessant rambling until we got settled with our drinks and could begin to relax at the coffee shop.
“HIV prevention. Mostly educational outreach,” I said to him.
Five words were all I got out before he hammered the nail into his coffin with one stroke. This was surprising, because after I’d just spent five months out of the country with no physical affection at all, I had every intention of sleeping with this guy… Until he opened his mouth.
“Oh. I am so over that,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes dismissively.
Twenty-two years poz, apparently HIV is the very last thing he wants to think about. I would later learn that he had recently been double dipping from his insurance and has a 12-month stockpile of Stribild, which made his out-of-state move last month easy as pie. He has all the tools he needs to pretend HIV just doesn’t exist anymore.
Read more of Brandyn’s new article at HIV=