Promiscuous Gay Nerd: Choosing to Love Poz Guys
I met James
1 on Grindr. Well, not exactly – he was a
friend of a friend, who also happened to be a fan of my writing. We had
connected years ago and intended to meet up, but we never found the
time. So when James pinged me on Grindr, my interest was piqued. He was
gorgeous, successful, and hung like a fucking horse. I thought to
myself, “okay, what’s the catch?” We made plans to spend a weekend in
his hometown, a two hour drive from me.
But before I got in my car and made the schlep over to see him, he
texted me to say that he had something to tell me. Something I should
know before we met. At this point, most gay men I know would be
preparing to run for the hills. Having a Grindr trick tell you before
you ever meet that there’s something you ought to know, without just
spitting it out, is usually a code red situation. But I wasn’t most gay
men. Quite the contrary: Rather than feeling anxious or ominously
worried, I put my hands together like a skinny girl at McDonald’s and
prayed, “
Please let him say that he’s positive.”
To say that this is a new perspective for me is an understatement.
Nearly two years ago, just a few weeks after I started taking Truvada
daily for PrEP, I penned an article on “
Learning to Fuck With Poz Guys.”
In that piece, I talked openly about the challenges I experienced
incorporating HIV-positive guys into my (mostly condomless) sex life.
The writing on the wall was pretty clear then that sexual transmission
is nearly impossible with guys who are on treatment, have undetectable
viral loads, and do not have an STI co-infection. Despite that growing
scientific consensus, I still struggled with my own irrational fears and
deeply-ingrained stigmatizing views of HIV-positive men. Like most gay
men, I had been trained to avoid HIV-positive guys at all cost. Sure,
you could use condoms. But why risk it?
We know even more today than we did in 2012. The
preliminary results
from the PARTNER study released in March this year firmly planted the
jaws of many in the field squarely on the floor. If you’re not familiar
with the ongoing clinical trial tracking serodiscordant couples that
don’t use condoms consistently, let me briefly rehash its findings thus
far. In two years, not one person with an undetectable viral load –gay
or straight – had transmitted HIV to their primary partner, during an
estimated 16,400 occasions of sex among gay men and 28,000 among
straight couples.
The kicker for HIV-negative folks like me on PrEP: none of the
HIV-negative partners in the PARTNER trial are on PrEP (or PEP, for that
matter).
But all this science aside, why in the world would I
pray
for my new beau to be HIV-positive? Knowing that there’s no risk of
infection is one thing. But to actually seek out and desire HIV-positive
partners is quite another.
The answer, I think, lies in the spectacular failure of my last relationship.
Like so many gay couples, Tim and I fought tirelessly over monogamy.
We were both sluts who clearly loved to spread our seed. I didn’t mind
the idea of him having sex with other guys, but he was controlling and
jealous. He ominously threatened one day that if I ever cheated on him,
he would beat the shit out of me. I nervously laughed it off. He
couldn’t be serious? Right?
When we finally did open the relationship, he insisted on all sorts
of restrictions. It turns out those restrictions were only for me. No
sex in our house, he said. I’d come home from work and find evidence to
the contrary. I didn’t really care. But the real stickler was his
insistence that we use condoms whenever we fucked outside the
relationship. As the bottom in the relationship, my getting fucked
condomless would threaten both his dominance over me and his
HIV-negative status.
So when I found out he bred a friend of a friend in the woods outside
a party while I was inside with friends, I was done. A few weeks later,
when he went out to the bar with friends, I enacted my own form of
resistance: I went out and got my ass creamed. It felt exhilarating –
liberating, even.
When I came home, he was drunk and furious. Somehow, he seemed to
know what I had done. I denied it. But as I walked up the steps to our
apartment, he took his first swing – the beginning of a long night that
ended with his arrest.
∞
Throughout the entire relationship, HIV provided the rationale for
Tim’s controlling jealousy in our open relationship. I’m under no
illusion that this explanation is entirely legitimate; clearly, Tim had
his own demons and insecurities that he desperately needed to deal with.
Nonetheless, it was always lurking in the shadows of our relationship,
providing a kind of scientific legitimacy to his control.
Tim’s behavior is an extreme example of what is a pretty common
phenomenon for gay men I know. The fear of HIV leads gay men to all
sorts of irrationalities. This is especially true for HIV-negative gay
men, whose knowledge of the disease is largely fed by stigma and
misinformation. When I came out to my parents at the age of 14, my
parent’s first response was that I would probably die of AIDS. The LGBT
youth group I attended regularly for the next two years didn’t teach me
gay history; it taught me how to use a condom. Irregularities in the
blood tests I needed to start Accutane in high school compelled my
doctor to warn me that I might be HIV-positive. If a condom broke with a
partner, I would get tested every month for the next six months – each
time reading into some minute detail (the counselor’s tone of voice; his
delay in returning to the testing room; an ominous voicemail)convinced
that I was positive.
For most of my life, HIV was a specter haunting me and my sex life.
Over time, I found ways to cope and manage the stress and risk that
comes with being a promiscuous HIV-negative gay man. Perhaps the most
significant step in that journey was educating myself about the
actual risk of transmission,
something that most gay men still don’t know enough about. If you asked
a 21-year old Jake Sobo what the chances are of getting HIV after being
fucked by a poz guy without a condom, I probably would have said 50%.
It’s actually less than 2%, on average. And as we know now, treatment
and/or PrEP virtually eliminates that risk altogether.
Getting older as a gay man almost always means that some of your friends will test positive at some point. While as many as
one in four gay men overall are HIV-positive in some urban areas,
that percentage jumps to over 40 percent for guys in their 40s. It
sounds trite, but being friends with HIV-positive guys and realizing
that their lives were basically no different from my own played a
significant role in helping me reshape my understanding of the disease.
What PrEP has done for me cannot be understated. I no longer live in a
world where contracting HIV seems a possible outcome that warrants my
anxiety or stress. With PrEP, I can have the sex that I want, with
whomever I want, without HIV looming over my decisions.
As I picked up the pieces after my last breakup, I resolved to never
be in a relationship again in which I didn’t see eye-to-eye with my
partner about non-monogamy and HIV risk. I’m just not built for sex with
one person, and I don’t ever want to be in a situation where HIV
provides the grounds for controlling my behavior. But finding another
gay man as liberated from the fear of HIV seems daunting – especially
living in a non-urban area. I used to think that I might never date
seriously again.
But, as luck would have it, it turns out guys on PrEP aren’t the only ones who don’t fret about contracting HIV anymore.
∞

Three
dots moved silently on my iPhone screen, indicating an impending
message. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, James’ message
came through. My prayer was answered.
Of course, James is a lot of things other than being HIV-positive.
His serostatus turns out to be only one of so many things that I love
about him. He’s goofy and ambitious. And, like me, he is a whore. We
practice compersion, not jealousy; when I get my ass creamed by another guy, he doesn’t get angry. He gets turned on.
But I don’t love him
despite his status, as many guys might imagine. It is not a glitch or problem or downside. I love him, in part,
because of it.
To guys out there who still don’t understand how this is possible, I
invite you to look around you. The serodivide is crumbling. Hookup sites
that used to allow only two options for HIVstatus now offer endless
choices, from undetectable to on PrEP. Recent
life expectancy projections suggest that gay men who test HIV-positive today and start treatment quickly will live
longer than those who do not. Statistically speaking, my positive boyfriend is likely to outlive me.
While some friends of mine give guys who blithely refuse to fuck poz
guys a pass, I don’t. You cannot hide your prejudice under the veil of
risk anymore. That ship has sailed.
I know it’s not easy. Unlearning decades of stigma and fear will not
happen overnight. It will take time and learning. That’s okay. But the
cost of staying in place is too great, both for poz guys who face that
stigma and fear on a daily basis, and to our communities which remain
divided.
Tomorrow, September 27, is National Gay Men’s HIV/AIDS Awareness Day.
If you’re an HIV-negative gay man and you serosort but want to do
something to help end HIV stigma, take a first step. Stop serosorting.
Fuck a poz guy.
Who knows, he just might be the man of your life.
1 Names have been changed.
Jake Sobo is a pen name used
for anonymity. Jake has worked in the world of HIV prevention for nearly
a decade. He previously published a 19-part series documenting his
experiences on pre-exposure prophylaxis (PrEP), “My Life on PrEP,” for Positive Frontiers
magazine, which was picked up by Manhunt, translated into French,
and widely read in the HIV prevention world. He has spent the better
part of his adult life having as much sex as possible while trying to
avoid contracting HIV.