The Journey: Sex, HIV and the Change in Direction
"Why?"
I hear the question a lot from those who apparently don't have any interest in knowing the answer. They just ask why and want to let the question sit there by itself.
Why did I do what I did to get HIV?
I was diagnosed with HIV on January 2nd, 2001.
In order to understand the "why" of my actions, it is necessary to go back to near the end of 1999.
The turn of the millennium was coming up and, six months after that, I would be turning 30, a year of great significance to gay men below that age and of a different significance to many other people for other reasons.
First of all, there tends to be a general expectation that one should "have his shit together" and even have his career in order. At least, that's the expectation I always sort of felt from various individuals. You can get away with a certain amount of BS and immaturity up until you are about 25. Then, suddenly, the alarm clock rings and you're supposed to straighten up and start behaving like an adult and have something to show for yourself. You should have something going AT LEAST by the time you're 27 and when you're 30, the project should either be well under way to finish, or finishing up.
Second, the gay subculture, especially today, has a very unhealthy obsession with youth and many mixed messages that go along with it. The ideal is to look about 25 for as long as you can, whilst behaving as though you are a well-seasoned and experienced man in his 50's. Someone once told me, "25 is middle age in gay years." I'd say that's more or less true. Certainly, 30 is a dividing line in a very bizarre way: those under 30, particularly under 26, don't trust anyone over 30, and those over 30, particularly if they're over 35, don't trust anyone under it. Then, of course, there's the fact that a man is in his sexual prime in his early twenties and it goes into decline around 26 so by the time he's 30, it's over...at least to many minds. Particularly to those under 25. Gay men under 25 have a LOT of delusions about aging and sexuality and maturity. And, in some ways, maybe that's the way it needs to be. Perhaps the late twenties, early thirties are a kind of rite of passage that we have to go through to learn to focus and deal with the world of humans...REAL humans, with all their complex and conflicting thoughts and emotions...not idealized humans who are either bold heroes or total fuck ups.
In retrospect, I think 30 is a year that causes a lot of unnecessary stress to people, particularly gay men. It certainly caused some stress to me, particularly since I would be turning 30 after the 20th century drew to a close and the 21st century opened its gates.
So I was looking at my life, and seeing that I still had not really "secured" anything for myself, nothing to show, other than stories and nothing in the works, no brilliant plots incubating and ready to hatch.
I was feeling like a failure.
As an aside, the billionaire Steve Forbes once posed an interesting question: What is it that distinguishes achievers and successes, from the rest? He went through the list of the usual things one might imagine: wealth, a good family, networking contacts, etcetera. He found too many exceptions to all of those to see any truth to them. His answer was this: the difference is in how the individual perceives and deals with failure. To those who truly succeed, really accomplish what they want and make their lives happy, failure is just a lesson to be learned and stepping stone. It isn't the end. And it isn't something that ruins your life. And, I think to Forbes, nobody IS a failure. But people do fail at things sometimes. Failing is a result, not a personality trait.
I would not learn this until a few years later though. I was feeling like I was a failure, like my life had no meaning or value. And I was finally letting my mother's harping about schooling get to me. I decided that, when 2000 came, I needed to so something. SOMETHING! ANYTHING that would break this pattern of dead end jobs and non-accomplishment.
It is important to understand that the rationality here came from some pretty negative emotions, fed by bad advice from my mother. And not to say she's a bad person. She was born into a different generation, one that hailed colleges as "the gateway to success" and she could not really perceive anyone being a REAL success without going and getting that education. And she didn't know any better. So she advised me according to what she knew best. And unfortunately, it was the wrong advice.
She told me about this place called the Business Computer Training Institute: BCTI, which she learned about on TV. Looking back on that whole ugly affair, I can say this: NEVER pursue and education through some school that advertises on TV. There is a reason why they have to. They are either crappy and substandard, or downright scams.
I decided to check this place out. I met with a "career counselor" or whatever they called them...a recruiter. I asked all the wrong questions. Wrong question, in a situation like this, are "yes" or "no" questions. You see, when you ask someone who wants you to sign up these kinds of questions, the answer will ALWAYS be "YES!" So I got all those yeses and it sure looked good to me. The main boo-boo here was that I wanted to pursue my own business as a freelance artist and I needed information on copyrights, licensing, drawing up contracts. But I didn't think about any of those details. I just asked the vague, general questions and I got YES YES YES! all the way.
And I was feeling desperate. I wanted to break out of this failure. I wanted to DO something. Something REAL! So I signed up. I was even relieved to see that all I had to do was sign contracts and THEY handled all the financial aid shit FOR ME! How about that?
In addition to this, I was also baited by my mother offering to buy me a computer if I went through this and graduated. Nearly everyone I knew had a computer and was connected so I felt like I was really falling behind in the world.
The most important thing about this mess is that the entire "degree" you earn takes seven and a half months. If you drop out before three months, you will only owe half the student loans, but once you go over that three month mark, you will owe the entire amount, regardless of if you drop out.
It was a little after the three month mark that I started to inquire more specifically about the things I wanted to learn, and I discovered that this school basically just gave skills to become a receptionist or data entry person. You learned MS Word, Excel, Powerpoint, Access, a program called Peachtree, which I understand nobody uses anymore, and you learn how to create resumes and dress for business and you learn a little bit about how to answer interview questions...within the context of the jobs you were training for.
NONE of the shit I wanted to learn was being offered. Nothing. And if I dropped out, I would STILL have to pay the entire student loan, which was nearly $7,000...more with the interest added.
And I wouldn't get that computer until I graduated.
So, there I was, realizing I'd been had and having to stick to this fucked up commitment that I knew would take me nowhere. I had no interest in an office job of any kind.
First I was pissed. Then I fell down into despair.
And that was when it started.
The weird thing about this tale is that I never did crystal meth or even coke. I did, of all things, MUSHROOM TEA. For some reason, mushrooms made me really horny. So I started buying magic mushrooms and making tea, drinking it, and then going to the baths. I got fucked. A LOT.
And many of these men fucked me without condoms. And I didn't care. I never asked. I never even thought about it. I just wanted to be high and get fucked. Because it was the only thing I could think of to take my mind off of the fact that, in my desperation, I had made this seriously stupid career move that would cost me so much money. For the record, I wouldn't mind paying three times that much...IF I'm getting the education I want. But to pay that much for something totally useless and dead-ended. It was so depressing.
I tried talking to my mother about it, how I felt and all she could do was give me lame advice about office jobs being "a stepping stone". To what? Another office job? She didn't get it. She just...didn't...get it.
And I hated being there. I hated most of the staff. I went through the motions. And then, when the weekend came, I went back to the baths again to get high on mushroom tea and get my ass fucked by...almost whoever wanted it. Some of the really nastiest, ugliest men were turned away. But I let in plenty of men that I would otherwise just not want to have sex with.
There is also something else involved here: I had also given up on a love life. I wanted one. But I saw myself as totally dysfunctional and therefore condemned to solitude. I didn't see that I had any choice in the matter. This was fate. And since I didn't think a mate was "in the cards", so to speak, I decided I'd rather be a slut than an ascetic. So I may not be able to enjoy a loving, passionate kiss. At least at the baths I can still get some dick. At home, all I get is my right hand...well, left hand, actually. I use my left hand for that.
So this is where we get into that "why?"
Much of it makes sense when you feel like your life is cursed and you have no future and that you're just a broken, dysfunctional creature and that you have no control over anything. This is what leads to these kinds of decisions.
This...and drugs. Crystal meth in particular causes men to become single-mindedly fixated on sex and nothing but sex, no matter WHAT his self worth is outside of it. I say this because I've seen guys who are or were NOT in this state of desperation that I describe STILL go down...just because of the meth. That drug literally does drive you insane. Crazy. Irrational. All thoughts rewired according to obsessions and compulsions.
As I said, I never did crystal. But I went that same route because I felt like my life was just...worthless.
Near my graduation, I did get this boyfriend named Roy, who had HIV and, although we did use condoms (fancy that! I bareback with strangers but when I meet a guy I know and he tells me he has HIV, I insist on condoms. This is called "Wanting to FEEL safe, rather than BE safe" and many HIV- men live by this irrational notion. I see it all the time. It's also about...just not wanting to deal with the reality of the disease. One wants to have "innocent sex". So...no condoms, no inquiries, no discussion. You just...get down and start fucking. And it "feels natural and innocent" and you feel like you're outside that realm of reality.)
There was ONE particular incident when I was sucking Roy's dick and he pulled out and came on my face and right in my eye. I felt it burn. And as soon as I felt that salty burn in my eye, I thought of his HIV and wondered if I'd just been infected.
That may have been it. Or maybe not. I really don't know.
It doesn't really matter though.
At this point, I'm not going to go into all the nightmare of what happened after I was diagnosed. I've written about that before and to write AGAIN feels like opening up an old wound that doesn't need to be opened. But the significant point is that I started going through my tarot deck, and my books on Qabalah and chaos magick and astrology and...it all seemed frivolous and superficial. It had nothing to do with LIVING. With REAL LIFE. I now had a fucking DISEASE and I just could NOT go on playing games with cards and symbols like some idiot who thinks he can ride a bike without wheels, if only he wills it hard enough.
So this was the major change in direction. I realized I'd never really put any thought into ethics, or personal development. I'd just danced around in this "let's pretend" world of magick and mysticism.
At the same time, I still felt some deep yearning for a connection to something greater. I felt that void in my soul and I wanted to fill it. I started looking more towards Zen Buddhism and that seemed to offer comfort.
And Roscoe was there. He was the pillar of strength that I could lean on for most of that year (2001). He either called me or stopped by to visit every single day for at least the first three months. I cried with him. He offered me comforting advice. One thing I remembered he said, that helped me get through all that shame and pain was:
"Nobody in their right mind would place themselves in danger like that."
The emphasis there is in their right mind. Again, going back to crystal meth and a descent into despair and futility...this is NOT a right state of mind. This is madness. This is some of the worst emotion, worse than fear, I think, -totally consuming one's rationality. People don't self destruct because it just seems like something interesting to do. They do it because their minds are...for lack of a better phrase, "possessed by a demon".
One of the things I despise about the philosopher Ayn Rand is her assertion that logic and reason are the tools to override emotion and dictate sound choices. That is absolutely incorrect. Quite the opposite. Logic and reason DEPEND upon a calm mind in order to function and those tools are utterly useless when the mind is flooded with a strong emotion. In fact, that emotion USES logic and reason to justify itself. When someone is angry...intensely, furious...ENRAGED...every fact of existence somehow "proves" the correctness of that emotion. When someone is in love, every fact of existence "proves" the truth of it. This is one of the reasons why logic is NOT a suitable tool for determining truth or in determining alignment or setting goals. Logic is ONLY an organizing tool. We tend to think of logic and intuition as being equals, because of that whole right side and left side of the brain thing. But, in my experience, intuitions and passions are actually the deeper and more potent part of the human mind and logic merely arranges the phenomenon according to those passions.
I hear the question a lot from those who apparently don't have any interest in knowing the answer. They just ask why and want to let the question sit there by itself.
Why did I do what I did to get HIV?
I was diagnosed with HIV on January 2nd, 2001.
In order to understand the "why" of my actions, it is necessary to go back to near the end of 1999.
The turn of the millennium was coming up and, six months after that, I would be turning 30, a year of great significance to gay men below that age and of a different significance to many other people for other reasons.
First of all, there tends to be a general expectation that one should "have his shit together" and even have his career in order. At least, that's the expectation I always sort of felt from various individuals. You can get away with a certain amount of BS and immaturity up until you are about 25. Then, suddenly, the alarm clock rings and you're supposed to straighten up and start behaving like an adult and have something to show for yourself. You should have something going AT LEAST by the time you're 27 and when you're 30, the project should either be well under way to finish, or finishing up.
Second, the gay subculture, especially today, has a very unhealthy obsession with youth and many mixed messages that go along with it. The ideal is to look about 25 for as long as you can, whilst behaving as though you are a well-seasoned and experienced man in his 50's. Someone once told me, "25 is middle age in gay years." I'd say that's more or less true. Certainly, 30 is a dividing line in a very bizarre way: those under 30, particularly under 26, don't trust anyone over 30, and those over 30, particularly if they're over 35, don't trust anyone under it. Then, of course, there's the fact that a man is in his sexual prime in his early twenties and it goes into decline around 26 so by the time he's 30, it's over...at least to many minds. Particularly to those under 25. Gay men under 25 have a LOT of delusions about aging and sexuality and maturity. And, in some ways, maybe that's the way it needs to be. Perhaps the late twenties, early thirties are a kind of rite of passage that we have to go through to learn to focus and deal with the world of humans...REAL humans, with all their complex and conflicting thoughts and emotions...not idealized humans who are either bold heroes or total fuck ups.
In retrospect, I think 30 is a year that causes a lot of unnecessary stress to people, particularly gay men. It certainly caused some stress to me, particularly since I would be turning 30 after the 20th century drew to a close and the 21st century opened its gates.
So I was looking at my life, and seeing that I still had not really "secured" anything for myself, nothing to show, other than stories and nothing in the works, no brilliant plots incubating and ready to hatch.
I was feeling like a failure.
As an aside, the billionaire Steve Forbes once posed an interesting question: What is it that distinguishes achievers and successes, from the rest? He went through the list of the usual things one might imagine: wealth, a good family, networking contacts, etcetera. He found too many exceptions to all of those to see any truth to them. His answer was this: the difference is in how the individual perceives and deals with failure. To those who truly succeed, really accomplish what they want and make their lives happy, failure is just a lesson to be learned and stepping stone. It isn't the end. And it isn't something that ruins your life. And, I think to Forbes, nobody IS a failure. But people do fail at things sometimes. Failing is a result, not a personality trait.
I would not learn this until a few years later though. I was feeling like I was a failure, like my life had no meaning or value. And I was finally letting my mother's harping about schooling get to me. I decided that, when 2000 came, I needed to so something. SOMETHING! ANYTHING that would break this pattern of dead end jobs and non-accomplishment.
It is important to understand that the rationality here came from some pretty negative emotions, fed by bad advice from my mother. And not to say she's a bad person. She was born into a different generation, one that hailed colleges as "the gateway to success" and she could not really perceive anyone being a REAL success without going and getting that education. And she didn't know any better. So she advised me according to what she knew best. And unfortunately, it was the wrong advice.
She told me about this place called the Business Computer Training Institute: BCTI, which she learned about on TV. Looking back on that whole ugly affair, I can say this: NEVER pursue and education through some school that advertises on TV. There is a reason why they have to. They are either crappy and substandard, or downright scams.
I decided to check this place out. I met with a "career counselor" or whatever they called them...a recruiter. I asked all the wrong questions. Wrong question, in a situation like this, are "yes" or "no" questions. You see, when you ask someone who wants you to sign up these kinds of questions, the answer will ALWAYS be "YES!" So I got all those yeses and it sure looked good to me. The main boo-boo here was that I wanted to pursue my own business as a freelance artist and I needed information on copyrights, licensing, drawing up contracts. But I didn't think about any of those details. I just asked the vague, general questions and I got YES YES YES! all the way.
And I was feeling desperate. I wanted to break out of this failure. I wanted to DO something. Something REAL! So I signed up. I was even relieved to see that all I had to do was sign contracts and THEY handled all the financial aid shit FOR ME! How about that?
In addition to this, I was also baited by my mother offering to buy me a computer if I went through this and graduated. Nearly everyone I knew had a computer and was connected so I felt like I was really falling behind in the world.
The most important thing about this mess is that the entire "degree" you earn takes seven and a half months. If you drop out before three months, you will only owe half the student loans, but once you go over that three month mark, you will owe the entire amount, regardless of if you drop out.
It was a little after the three month mark that I started to inquire more specifically about the things I wanted to learn, and I discovered that this school basically just gave skills to become a receptionist or data entry person. You learned MS Word, Excel, Powerpoint, Access, a program called Peachtree, which I understand nobody uses anymore, and you learn how to create resumes and dress for business and you learn a little bit about how to answer interview questions...within the context of the jobs you were training for.
NONE of the shit I wanted to learn was being offered. Nothing. And if I dropped out, I would STILL have to pay the entire student loan, which was nearly $7,000...more with the interest added.
And I wouldn't get that computer until I graduated.
So, there I was, realizing I'd been had and having to stick to this fucked up commitment that I knew would take me nowhere. I had no interest in an office job of any kind.
First I was pissed. Then I fell down into despair.
And that was when it started.
The weird thing about this tale is that I never did crystal meth or even coke. I did, of all things, MUSHROOM TEA. For some reason, mushrooms made me really horny. So I started buying magic mushrooms and making tea, drinking it, and then going to the baths. I got fucked. A LOT.
And many of these men fucked me without condoms. And I didn't care. I never asked. I never even thought about it. I just wanted to be high and get fucked. Because it was the only thing I could think of to take my mind off of the fact that, in my desperation, I had made this seriously stupid career move that would cost me so much money. For the record, I wouldn't mind paying three times that much...IF I'm getting the education I want. But to pay that much for something totally useless and dead-ended. It was so depressing.
I tried talking to my mother about it, how I felt and all she could do was give me lame advice about office jobs being "a stepping stone". To what? Another office job? She didn't get it. She just...didn't...get it.
And I hated being there. I hated most of the staff. I went through the motions. And then, when the weekend came, I went back to the baths again to get high on mushroom tea and get my ass fucked by...almost whoever wanted it. Some of the really nastiest, ugliest men were turned away. But I let in plenty of men that I would otherwise just not want to have sex with.
There is also something else involved here: I had also given up on a love life. I wanted one. But I saw myself as totally dysfunctional and therefore condemned to solitude. I didn't see that I had any choice in the matter. This was fate. And since I didn't think a mate was "in the cards", so to speak, I decided I'd rather be a slut than an ascetic. So I may not be able to enjoy a loving, passionate kiss. At least at the baths I can still get some dick. At home, all I get is my right hand...well, left hand, actually. I use my left hand for that.
So this is where we get into that "why?"
Much of it makes sense when you feel like your life is cursed and you have no future and that you're just a broken, dysfunctional creature and that you have no control over anything. This is what leads to these kinds of decisions.
This...and drugs. Crystal meth in particular causes men to become single-mindedly fixated on sex and nothing but sex, no matter WHAT his self worth is outside of it. I say this because I've seen guys who are or were NOT in this state of desperation that I describe STILL go down...just because of the meth. That drug literally does drive you insane. Crazy. Irrational. All thoughts rewired according to obsessions and compulsions.
As I said, I never did crystal. But I went that same route because I felt like my life was just...worthless.
Near my graduation, I did get this boyfriend named Roy, who had HIV and, although we did use condoms (fancy that! I bareback with strangers but when I meet a guy I know and he tells me he has HIV, I insist on condoms. This is called "Wanting to FEEL safe, rather than BE safe" and many HIV- men live by this irrational notion. I see it all the time. It's also about...just not wanting to deal with the reality of the disease. One wants to have "innocent sex". So...no condoms, no inquiries, no discussion. You just...get down and start fucking. And it "feels natural and innocent" and you feel like you're outside that realm of reality.)
There was ONE particular incident when I was sucking Roy's dick and he pulled out and came on my face and right in my eye. I felt it burn. And as soon as I felt that salty burn in my eye, I thought of his HIV and wondered if I'd just been infected.
That may have been it. Or maybe not. I really don't know.
It doesn't really matter though.
At this point, I'm not going to go into all the nightmare of what happened after I was diagnosed. I've written about that before and to write AGAIN feels like opening up an old wound that doesn't need to be opened. But the significant point is that I started going through my tarot deck, and my books on Qabalah and chaos magick and astrology and...it all seemed frivolous and superficial. It had nothing to do with LIVING. With REAL LIFE. I now had a fucking DISEASE and I just could NOT go on playing games with cards and symbols like some idiot who thinks he can ride a bike without wheels, if only he wills it hard enough.
So this was the major change in direction. I realized I'd never really put any thought into ethics, or personal development. I'd just danced around in this "let's pretend" world of magick and mysticism.
At the same time, I still felt some deep yearning for a connection to something greater. I felt that void in my soul and I wanted to fill it. I started looking more towards Zen Buddhism and that seemed to offer comfort.
And Roscoe was there. He was the pillar of strength that I could lean on for most of that year (2001). He either called me or stopped by to visit every single day for at least the first three months. I cried with him. He offered me comforting advice. One thing I remembered he said, that helped me get through all that shame and pain was:
"Nobody in their right mind would place themselves in danger like that."
The emphasis there is in their right mind. Again, going back to crystal meth and a descent into despair and futility...this is NOT a right state of mind. This is madness. This is some of the worst emotion, worse than fear, I think, -totally consuming one's rationality. People don't self destruct because it just seems like something interesting to do. They do it because their minds are...for lack of a better phrase, "possessed by a demon".
One of the things I despise about the philosopher Ayn Rand is her assertion that logic and reason are the tools to override emotion and dictate sound choices. That is absolutely incorrect. Quite the opposite. Logic and reason DEPEND upon a calm mind in order to function and those tools are utterly useless when the mind is flooded with a strong emotion. In fact, that emotion USES logic and reason to justify itself. When someone is angry...intensely, furious...ENRAGED...every fact of existence somehow "proves" the correctness of that emotion. When someone is in love, every fact of existence "proves" the truth of it. This is one of the reasons why logic is NOT a suitable tool for determining truth or in determining alignment or setting goals. Logic is ONLY an organizing tool. We tend to think of logic and intuition as being equals, because of that whole right side and left side of the brain thing. But, in my experience, intuitions and passions are actually the deeper and more potent part of the human mind and logic merely arranges the phenomenon according to those passions.