The Western Front

...all quiet.

The clamour, the shock, the newsworthiness of it all fell away. I had a boyfriend who was so terrified of infection that he started to desire it, I had another boyfriend for whom I was his first, which was weird - the virgin and the whore - then I think I've given up looking for salvation between the legs of innocent men. This is no bad thing, I reckon. I'm just ticking over now. Considering what's important. Stability, unfortunately, doesn't seem to automatically include someone else as part of that equation. I'm getting places career-wise I'd not thought I'd get to. I get on better with my ex now than I think I did when we got into all this silly mess. My heart's in a holding pattern. Sure, I do keep finding myself spending time with this one guy, but I think the slightest whisper of belonging would be enough to send me running for the hills right now.

I'm slightly annoyed with myself for over-disclosing in the earlier stages of this. People I barely know start asking me how I got it.

"I know this guy who said he got it from a blow job. I mean, is that possible? How did you get it?"

"Bareback double anal."

The conversation doesn't often go further than that. Funny, really, how people's perceptions of you change according to how they think you were infected. I'm a nice man - now, at least - so surely I'm a victim of this. Heh. As if. If anything, as I mentioned before, this saved my life in several ways. Or, least, it shook things up a little bit.

Anyhow, hello. As I said, nothing really to report here just yet. Am going with a friend for him to get tested in a couple of weeks. I'm not really sure I'm best qualified for this, only that I'd be able to find good things in either result. It's odd, though, that sense of seeing someone's fear of becoming what I am already. Strange days.