Remote Control

I got the chance to hang out again this weekend, this time with a group of my fellow pozzies. It was funny to observe how liberating it must’ve been for everyone to be able to talk openly about poz stuff, being in the privacy of a poz-friendly household.

We talked about everything from our diagnoses, poz histories, medications, side effects, experiences, and love lives. But there was one particular topic which caused sweat to form on my brow. Sex.

I’ve never claimed to be clean, innocent, or angelic – not even vanilla – when it comes to sex. Threesomes, orgies, all the way sex sessions… I can say that I’ve been there and done that. I may just have done everything imaginable, and classify under extreme kink. That was then. But now it’s a different story. HIV made it a different story.

But why can’t I go back to it? Technically, I could, right? Yes. Technically I could, under the premise that I’d play it safe this time, everytime. So, why haven’t I?

I realize, it’s a matter of control. Ever since, I’ve always been a bottom. Submissive. Passive. I practically never made the first move. I needed to be controlled. I needed to be dominated. I aimed to please a master. And please I did.

I was, and still am, the type who goes all the way. Whatever the master wanted I would give. And that’s what guys liked about me, I guess. I almost never said no. If they wanted to do me bareback, fine. If they wanted me to swallow, I would. If they wanted to see me get gang banged, I just tell them to form a line. If they’d make me take a double, I had no reason not to.

It was all about control. I needed to give up control to whoever I was with. Apparently guys like that.

So at this poz time of my life, I can no longer go back to the guys, or the games, I used to have fun with. These are guys who know I would give everything. I can no longer give everything. I could no longer give up all control. I now need to be in control.

For now, I will probably opt for a guy who knew I was poz, or was hell-bent on using protection. That’s as much as I can control. Because honestly, if temptation arises, I can’t be 100% sure that I’d resist the temptation to go all the way. The urge to please without question still whispers in my ear. I just might forget to use protection. I might just lose control of the situation.

So do I ever expect to be totally in control? I can’t promise, but I can try to get there step by step. I can no longer afford to be totally controlled by the guy or guys I’m with. But I am still not ready to claim full control over myself. I want to be in control of myself. And I want something beyond that.

I need something bigger than myself to be in control of me. And that’s HIV. I need it to fill my default thoughts, so there will be no possibility for me to consider anything else but safe sex. I need it to control me, sexually, that is. It will be my Remote Control. I emphasize “will”. Future tense. I’m not there yet.

So for now, I’m trying, trying, trying to stay in situations that I have the most possibility of controlling. And try I will, until I’m ready to give total control of my sex life to HIV. And when I get that point, I’m absolutely NOT passing the remote.