The Story of Russell, Part 2.

His first boyfriend was an intern; the age difference made Russell nervous.

Many things made him nervous about their relationship, in fact.

It was trying on them both – his upbringing had taught him that many things were considered wrong, and his affections for another man was high on the list of abominable acts. Being with him was as close to comfortable as Russell had been in a very long time, though, and he tried desperately to act as though he was fine.

There was only so much pretending that he could do, though. On occasion, it repulsed him, being intimate with another man…particularly in the beginning. He was feel sick with shame, and hear his father’s voice ringing in his ears, preaching about sin.

Russell wasn’t even a god-fearing man. He simply couldn’t shake that part of his upbringing.

After several months of trying, eventually his lover left. He told Russell that it broke his heart to do so, but he couldn’t stay with someone who hated the idea of loving him. Russell nodded and told him that he understood, but it broke his heart.

In his mourning period, he became determined to avoid that part of himself. He liked women, he knew…but there were men he found appealing, too. He wanted to shun the latter and keep to the so-called ‘fairer sex’; he could simply pretend.

He was still terrified he would take advantage, but he managed to find himself a loophole, in that regard.

He would drink, until he could hardly say his own name. Luckily, for Russell, there never seemed to be any shortage of those. There was one woman – a bit older, though he couldn’t even begin to guess at her age through the make-up – who would buy him drink after drink, if he allowed it.

It seemed an inevitability that they would end up in bed together. All he remembered of the night was her tossing the condom aside and assuring him that she trusted him.

He was tested at the STI clinic a few weeks later. The results came back positive for HIV.

Work gave him a few weeks off. He told them it was for stress leave.

The doctors repeated, like a mantra, that HIV was no longer a death sentence. He would have to take his medication exactly as prescribed, but live an otherwise normal life. He joined a support group, only because he was pressured into doing so, and didn’t get a chance to see whether or not the doctors were right.