Coming Clean

Finally, I can write about R. We’d met the first and only time earlier this year, when a common friend of ours organized a threesome. My friend and I drove to R’s place, and roarrr, I liked him. He was my type: manly, mature, smart, and very dominant. But being an expert at threesomes, I always make sure the guys I’m with get their fair share of the action. So we did the deed.

R and I kept in touch after that, but before there was any opportunity for us to meet again, I found out that I was HIV positive. And for lack of having an excuse to see him again, I told him.

This thing with R sounds similar with my thing with Mojo, but it was more complicated. Why? Even R doesn’t know this yet, and he’ll be finding out for the first time from this blog entry. That one time we had sex happened on April 7th, while I was waiting for the results of my HIV test. It was after March 31st, when my blood sample was taken, and before April 16th when I got my results. I’m not proud and I realize now how lackadaisical I really was about getting tested.

R basically didn’t take the news of my being poz too well. I knew from the way he bombarded me with messages and questions that he was panicking. And as it was at a time when I myself was in a chaotic state of mind, I didn’t know how to calm him down. He got tested almost as soon as I told him, and it came up negative. But we both knew that wasn’t enough.

It was such a small HIV world, that he found this blog shortly after, probably in the midst of his panic. He even asked me point blank if I knew the guy who was writing it. I denied, of course. And with the truth being in this blog, I had to change my story with him: when I got tested, when I got my results, my age, and even my birthdate. Talk about paranoia, huh? That's why I never wrote about R, because he'd find out it was me.

I was witness to how hard it was for him to spend the next few months just waiting for the window period to expire. And for those next few months, he never stopped bugging me, until I just chose to stop replying to his messages altogether, mostly because I felt he was just dragging me down with him into depression. I knew I held some responsibility for his dilemma, but needed to help myself before anyone else.

So we lost touch, or at least I did, until that fateful day that he sent me a message after the window period passed, saying his HIV retest just turned up negative. I’m sure I heaved a sigh of relief that time and congratulated him. I think his reply was something to the tune of he’ll still be there for me, but I never held him to that promise, not after I dropped him like a hot potato in his own time of need.

So months and months passed, but I do recall getting messages from R. It wasn’t that often, probably just once every other month, asking how I was doing. I’d reply, but still felt too guilty to take too much of his time.

Up until last week, when he sent his usual how-are-you-doing-buddy, which he followed up with asking if he could call so we could talk. I was hesitant, because I didn’t feel worthy of his care and his time. I was also worried because I couldn’t remember all the details of the story I’d fabricated to cover myself up. But I gave in after a few more messages, sent him my number, and we talked.

R started out asking how I was, then moving on to more personal stuff about my family, work and other stuff. I was on to him. He was checking my story out. So I decided, fine, it’s time to come clean. I answered all his questions with utmost truth, completely aware that these same details could be found littered in this blog. I honestly had a smirk on my face talking with him, as if we were playing Pinoy Henyo.

We continued our conversation the next day, which was when, upon being asked again, I finally admitted to being the owner of this blog. It was liberating, probably even for him. He told me he’d been following this blog religiously, never forgetting the suspicion he had all along that it was me. I thanked him, and surprisingly, he thanked me too. He thanked me for triggering this phase in his life, where, as he said, he realized and learned a lot.

Although I'm wondering whether my admission changed his view of me as a person, or whether it changed his view of the PinoyPoz or B.I.T.C.H. writing this blog, either way, I was just appreciative of the time he took to salvage what he could out of our friendship. I know you’re reading this, R. Thanks for listening to – and reading – my story. And thanks for still being a friend. This is just filthy old me, finally coming clean.