Caller are you there?

Recently I got a surprise phone call from an old friend (well, fuck buddy from a former life really) that came up a tad short of good news. You see, during his yearly physical, he came up HIV positive. Unlike most gay men I know, he actually set aside his nervous breakdown and melodrama to go through his black book and inform past sexual partners of his health status.

For this, I am proud of him. My long pause between his disclosure and my response wasn’t because I feared for my own health, but because I was in utter disbelief of his lack of selfish behavior. For the record, since he and I had last hooked up, I’ve had several HIV tests, all of which have come up negative.

Also for the record, had I been given the news of being HIV positive, I would be the first to admit complete selfish behavior and melodrama.

To hell with those fags, I would think – they’re the ones that got me in this situation in the first fucking place. Oh no, it wouldn’t be my fault a condom wasn’t used, it was automatically their fault.

But, I digress; I thanked him for calling me so expeditiously and asked how many others he’s called before me. Once again, there was a long pause between my response and what he said next.

Apparently I was first.

For this, I was confused by him. It had been nearly a year and a half since we last hooked up. And, because of his above average looks and worked out body, I know there were plenty of others since then. There just had to be. I also know I’m not the first name in his little black book especially with all the Aarons, Adams, Alexs, Andrews, Andys and Anthonys in fag world.

He said he called me first because he didn’t know what to say to the others. He couldn’t find the right words. I told him what he said to me worked just fine. It was concise, it was to the point and most importantly, it was the truth.

He said that I wasn’t really his typical audience and that I wouldn’t just hang up, that I’d care what happened to him. The truth is, I do care. He’s a good guy beneath that party boy exterior. I remember talking to him about his county boy adolescence after one of our hookups. He said he remembered that too, that I actually took the time to ask about him and he appreciated it long after we stopped seeing each other out.

For this, I was touched. To be truthful, I probably wouldn't be the first person I would call had it happened to me. I have a long list of people I would put before me that would be a better crying shoulder.

I did what I could and gave him names, phone numbers and e-mail addresses of contacts at AID Atlanta and counselors and doctors that specialized in HIV treatment. Having been a writer in the gay industry for the past seven years has paid off in the oddest ways.

The last thing I told him was something I recall hearing on Real World San Francisco years ago. The token gay roommate, Pedro Zamora was HIV positive and often lectured to college campuses about HIV/AIDS awareness. Pedro passed away just months after the season ended when his HIV converted to full blown AIDS. (Yes, there is a difference, educate yourself immediately if you’re not aware of it.)

I told him that he’s living with HIV and not dying of it. Until that phone call, I didn’t really get what that meant. I truly hope that he does.