I sometimes think about him and hope he’s doing okay.After he told me his status that night, I said: “Sure, we’ll just use condoms.” The next day I lay curled up on my bed, trying to slow down my thoughts.I could deal with the drugs and the escorting – working on the Soho gay scene I was never very far from either – but the virus was one small step for man, one giant leap for my mind.In the past six years I’ve learnt a lot more about HIV, and dated two positive guys. Cute and I were drunk when he started talking about an abusive ex-relationship.
The first time I knowingly slept with someone with HIV I was 23.
The boy was 20 and he told me drunk on the night bus home.
He fitted an ignorant man’s HIV stereotype: he was a ketamine-sniffing rentboy, living with a sugar daddy in West Hampstead.
When I asked him how he paid the rent, he snorted and replied: “My ass.” He was also one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.
I knew something about HIV from the magazines and GMFA flyers, and that if somebody came inside you that was a big risk.