I had my first HIV test early on in my sexual adventures—right after I broke up with my first boyfriend, David. It was an era of many firsts: first queer nights, first queer friends, first memories of counting lovers and keeping track of my “number.” David schooled me in gay culture, an education I needed badly after a repressed adolescence. Having freshly escaped the cult’s grasp, I exuded a certain chastity that, at the time, brought the boys in droves.home hiv test, hiv self test, home hiv kit
David was at the forefront of the barrage. Wide-eyed, young and naïve, I was mesmerized by his swagger and flamboyance. I vividly recall the butterflies in my stomach each time he, while tightly clasping my hand, marched me into queer night at La Luna or Saturday night at the City Nightclub.home hiv test, hiv self test, home hiv kit
Although roughly the same age, David was years ahead of me in terms of liberation and sophistication. One night, nestled on his old yellow couch, he insisted I sit through the history of gay cinema. After Tootsie and during The Rocky Horror Picture Show, he decided to talk numbers with me. His? 62.home hiv test, hiv self test, home hiv kit
At that point in my gay evolution, he may as well have told me he his number was infinite. Although I had certainly racked up a modest handful of bedpost notches, mentally I may as well have lived in a nunnery. I was stunned and horrified. I panicked, convinced we were riddled with STDs. I stopped returning David’s calls the next day.home hiv test, hiv self test, home hiv kit
The trepidation I felt then isn’t totally unlike the angst I feel now when I make mistakes of the sexual variety. Fear often drives us to—and through—our inevitable firsts. Soon after David’s declaration, I scheduled an appointment with my family doctor, thus beginning another major gay rite of passage.home hiv test, hiv self test, home hiv kit
It felt like I sat in my doctor’s waiting room for hours; its pale pastel walls and stale décor only intensified my discomfort. Loud children squirmed in parents’ laps; their sneezing and coughing worsened my paranoia. When I finally saw my doctor face to face and explained why I needed a test, he scolded me—berating me at length and encouraging me not to. The last thing I wanted, he argued, was insurance companies deeming me “high risk,” because they’d surely penalize me for it.home hiv test, hiv self test, home hiv kit
“Go home, I’m sure you’re fine,” he assured me.
After much pleading, he caved. I had blood drawn, went home, and my dreaded two-week wait began. It seemed like eight months before the nurse called to give me my result.home hiv test, hiv self test, home hiv kit
What a difference time makes.
A couple of weeks ago, a familiar uneasiness consumed me as a comrade and I sauntered down Stark Street to the Men’s Wellness Clinic to get our now frequent, regular tests. We approached the clinic in a deluge of pounding rain, nervously evaluating our risk levels, discussing interesting strategic choices we’d recently made. To lighten the mood, my friend introduced us to the staff as lovers.home hiv test, hiv self test, home hiv kit
“We’re desperately in love,” he said. “And we’re ready to take it to the next level.”
The dewy receptionist, incredibly friendly, played along.
“Really,” he insisted. “Look, we even dressed alike.” We had, albeit inadvertently.
After we procured our letters—you’re assigned letters (for rapid HIV tests) or numbers (full STD screenings), based on your testing preference—we examined the scene and took our seats on large leather couches in the back corner. Aside from a handful of new magazines, Garden State helped pass the time. Shockingly, my friend hadn’t ever seen it (“I only like blockbuster romantic comedies and porn!”), so the movie provided a nice distraction.home hiv test, hiv self test, home hiv kit
I looked around the room, noticing how it contrasted with my earliest experiences. No screaming children. No ghastly pastels or floral prints. Instead, CAP offered serene, queer-friendly ambiance.
As I was called back, my anxiety arose and, once inside the room with the testing liaison, abruptly subsided. I used the poor soul as a de facto counselor, spilling all, sharing every sordid sexual detail, hoping he was happy to listen. Yeah, I totally let him put it inside me, but I made him pull out. Doesn’t that count for something?home hiv test, hiv self test, home hiv kit
“Well, we call it strategic positioning,” he told me.
Perfect. I was all about strategic positioning. And strategic maneuvering.
I jest, of course—the safer the better, people. I told my de facto counselor about how my family doctor argued against testing. He seethed. We were about the same age, so we talked about the olden days when an excruciating two-week wait was customary. He told me how a slightly impatient younger generation balks at a twenty-minute wait. I imagined my younger self thrilled by it. As I received the good news, I marveled at how much things change—and don’t.home hiv test, hiv self test, home hiv kit