I vividly remember the day I was diagnosed with HIV positive. For months I was having trouble breathing, not feeling like eating, and was extremely tired. The doctor thought I might have pneumonia, but she asked me to get an HIV test.
My heart sank when the test results returned. Turning back from the doctor who had just delivered the news, I was stunned by a gorgeous day outside. She told me I had to take medication for the rest of my life, but I can still live a happy and normal life.
I was paralyzed from hearing the outcome, but I was worried about consuming my heart. Who loves me now?
However, within a year of diagnosis, I felt healthier than ever. If HIV was no longer detectable, I couldn’t send HIV through sexual contact, so when I popped the pill before going to bed I thought about my status for 10 seconds a day.
In other words, I decided to post my profile on a dating app.
I hadn’t been on a date since I was diagnosed, but I was finally ready to go back there and try my love. I didn’t know where to start, so I created a profile on Tinder. I was nervous when I filled in different areas. Then I came to the checkbox for race, religion, and HIV status — Wait, did I have to check the box for that?
At that moment, I had a flashback when I was first diagnosed at the hospital. On the day I was discharged from the hospital, the nurse warned me that I had to tell my future lovers about my status. It made me feel like a sick criminal with deep, shameful secrets in my body.
This checkbox attempted to reduce me to one label quickly embraced the same deep shame on my body. I chose not to disclose my status in advance – it was my choice and I would do it when I was ready – but it didn’t help much.
“My HIV status is negative. or-
“Please clean it. If not, don’t mind reaching out to me.” I said something else –
“When was your last test? If there is no evidence, you will be blocked.”
Reading those feelings felt like a knife in my heart. I thought, and I was defeated and heartbroken. What is the opposite of Clean? I think that’s me. I’m dirty.
This is why sex educators should be careful not to use it The term “clean” refers to STI status. It refers to people clean If they test negative, it means they are dirty If it is positive. This generally places moral value on STI status and sexual behavior, and affects the self-worth of those who live with STI, as well as the shame and stigma that prevent people from taking the test.
It helped me listen to HIV supporters like award-winning author George M. Johnson. In one interview he said, “People should not be afraid of HIV. They are not afraid of stigma. Stigma is born from non-communication and only burdens on people with HIV. It takes community effort with HIV negative people to help HIV already raise the burden on HIV.” Johnson is a strange black writer I admire so much that I didn’t feel too lonely after hearing him say this.
Living with HIV can be a huge burden and I have resented this disease. But I wasn’t ready to give up on love. Some of my friends said they would forget about Tinder and try another app.
I created a profile on Bumble. Like From a gentleman who was extremely handsome with dark eyes, sharp jawlines and a beautiful matching smile. We went back and forth between each other. Then I exchanged mobile numbers, texted them, and answered the phone.
On one of our phones he said, “I have to say something to you, I have HIV and if it bothers you, don’t waste each other’s time.”
This weight lifted off my shoulders and sighed, “I have HIV so thank you for sharing it with me.” It was good to be honest, and after that exchange I began to fantasize about our future together. That old terror – I’m alone with HIV. I don’t have anyone to love me – It started to dissipate and we began to plan to meet up.
He lived an hour away. He had a car, but it was rental. He seemed a little harsh when he said. I met him and drove for the time to drive home when the time came. But for now we were still texting and calling to get to know each other.
We both sent each other pictures of the dogs. Here was another thing we had in common: we were both proud of the “father of the dog.” His photos with his Chihuahua earned an extra point in his mind! I was imagining us Dog dad date, We went to the park with our pets, had picnics, throwing frisbees, stopped by dog-friendly coffee shops, and we could cuddle up at our feet, with our dogs looking at each other.
But one day he wrote, “Hey, can you send me a picture of your penis?”
We hadn’t met in person yet. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve sent many people photos of Dick in the past, but this just didn’t fit my vision of where we were in our relationship. He insisted, “You have to work with me here. If you can’t send me a photo, this will work.” It made me very uncomfortable, but I sent pictures to ensure that I didn’t lose our future fantasy together.
A few days later I sent him a cute picture of me and my dog. He replied, “He’s so cute! Not as cute as you. I felt a shot in my mind. Maybe he intended it as a joke, but I didn’t think it was remote and funny. I told him that he wanted me to hurt my feelings and he would comfort me, but he replied, “I was just kidding! Get over yourself!”
And then my answer was.
I was willing to drive long distances to meet him. I compromised and sent him an X rating photo. However, I didn’t accept my feelings and I wasn’t going to put up with anyone who couldn’t fix it. I gave him some chance to offer a simple apology, but when it didn’t come, I took him off my phone and we had no chance to meet.
Looking back, I ignored the red flag and was willing to make concessions just because I didn’t want to be alone. This idea still scares me. I was back to some of the earliest darkest days of living with HIV as I tried to find love.
Sadly, I had to put my dog ​​a few weeks ago, so I lost my best friend. Thankfully, I have family and friends with me to check on me. At this point, I focus on loving myself and my body, touching my feelings and needs, and embracing my HIV state. Every morning, after brushing my teeth, I look in the mirror and smile at myself. After taking a shower, he looks at his naked body and says I love this body. Everyday practices essential to my self-love. If something bothers me, I deal with it immediately rather than avoiding or ignoring it.
When I re-enter the dating space, I want to have an honest and uncomfortable conversation with my dates that are true to myself and have HIV.
I still long for touch, the company and the joy of being with someone, but not who. I want a man who can stop time and the world. Living with this infectious disease may be more difficult to find, but I still believe in Mr. U’s vision and I don’t think it’s out of reach. Just as I work to unleash my self-stigma around diagnosis, we can all work to reduce social stigma and use neutral language around STI status.
This article was originally published Huffpost September 2025.
Source: BuzzFeed – LGBTQ – www.buzzfeed.com
