It all started my freshman of college. Shortly after my 18th birthday feeling somewhat liberated, because I had finally Come Out to my Mom about being gay and I thought things were going to be great. I had a cute little boyfriend, school was going well, and I was really happy. Then my best friend at the time gave me a call asking about an HIV test, I had seen a sign at my school and thought about going to get tested, but then I was like whatever … you know how it goes … I digress; he asked me where could he go. I told about the sign and offered to go with him.
So the day came and we went to the student nurse and she did the OraSure test. I was allowed by my friend to listen to the entire conversation/counseling session, I felt bad for him; because what he was saying sounded like really high-risk stuff, which I had never done. Well two weeks later his results came back positive … can you say blow to the chest! I was completely shocked, how could this be … only thought it happened to older people, after they had already had their FUN.
So after he shared that with me I said to myself, if it could happen to him … then it could happen to me too. So I took the test. 2 to 3 weeks of eternal hell. I swear I had never experienced something like that before, and there is no group for you to go to as you are waiting for you results so you just sit there. I couldn’t really talk to my then boyfriend, because he was younger and I felt that he was slipping away from me … and I was right. Before I got my results back we had already broken up.
So I thought and prayed about it, and eventually called the only person I had ever had unprotected sex with to ask him the question, “Do you got HIV?” With nothing but a lie in his mouth he said, “No.” Actually, NAW. That was perhaps 2 days before the results came, but the turning point for me came the day before the results. The results had been held up by paperwork, labwork, yadi yadi. But the day before I prayed and asked for the truth, and I received it that day. I knew I was poz. I went to the nurse the next day who told me that the person who gives the results would be with me shortly. She held a good face, but even she couldn’t keep the truth away, it was in her eyes. So I went in to have this stern, but kind looking counselor give me the results. I was already over the immediate shock from the nite before, so I was just kinda like OK.
That same night I went home, still kind of numb and waited on my mom. When she got home and saw I was in the bed around 7pm she came to check on me. I told her and all she could do was cry. I know it was hard for her, but she took as she does all things, and just simply wanted to know where do we move from here.