Fantasy turned Revenge

I was never much of a normative guy. Not a normative gay either. I never really wanted what most people did, and it didn’t bother me at all. I just went with the flow and reacted to each moment as it came to me. I didn’t have life goals nor did I feel the need for them. As a man of the post-AIDS epidemic that decimated men in the final decades of the last century, I didn’t feel the need to subvert against the system; nor did I want to have a life like that of my straight brother. I didn’t want marriage and kids and all the other things that brought respectability. I also didn’t feel I had anything to prove as a queer man as I wasn’t angry at the system. If I liked someone and they liked me back, I’d be with them as long as it satisfied both of us. So I never fell in love. In fact, life was just complacency without the awakened conscience that comes through suffering.

Sex to me was a physiological need that was a source of pleasure. So I was comfortable being fully versatile. I always enjoyed what was available without worrying about that which wasn’t. In my early 20s, as I finished college and went on to grad school with the intention of becoming a professor, I started attending sex parties. The first time I went to one I was pretty scared, not knowing what to expect. But being a stereotypically good looking White gay man, with a fit, if not athletic build, I got my fair share of attention. I looked better than a boy next door, but not quite stunning enough to be a hunk. I was classically handsome in the way models for bridal shoots look, the kind of guy moms love to love. Plenty of the guys at the party wanted to fuck with me. After allowing myself to just enjoy the moment, I had some of the best sex of my life up to that point. So I went back for more, over, and over, and over.

Through years of grad school I would consistently attend these parties. I loved the certainty of getting laid without the effort. No bullshit, no back and forth texts on the apps that served for validation rather than hooking up; this was pure hedonism in the form of mind-blowing sexual release. As I became more familiar with the scene, I made friends there and expanded my sexual interests. Then I graduated and moved to a second city, one of those that are satellites to a larger, more important metropolis. It was home to an Ivy League school and other smaller universities, where I landed a decent job. Soon after the move I started exploring the sex party scene, as I knew it was my preferred form of sexual gratification. It didn’t take me long to find and join a party that met once a week, a rotating group from a pool of about 35 fit gay men. Each week there’d be at least 15 of us showing up. I was one of the most consistent participants, as I was hooked on the sexual liberation I got from these parties. I was soon to become even more addicted as my sexual appetites diversified.

The first time I fucked a guy bareback, I could not believe how alive I felt at the touch of skin against flesh. I walked into a room where a very hot guy I’d seen at previous parties was lasciviously fingering himself with his legs spread wide. I approached him and looked into his eyes as he asked me “Are you clean?” I knew this meant whether I was HIV negative, which I was. After telling him so, he asked me what I was waiting for and took the fingers from his ass to his mouth while looking straight into my eyes, as if challenging me to fuck him bare. I took the bait and plunged my dick into his hole in one slow deep thrust. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuck!” was all I could say. I never suffered from premature ejaculation, but that time I came after a few pumps. This was before PreP, and though I knew it was risky, I told myself that he was probably negative as he’d inquired about my status. It was so hot that I was rock hard within a couple minutes, ready for round two. Then I fucked him the way I liked it, rough and hard. He was as into it as I was and kept encouraging me to fuck him more aggressively. By the time I was ready to cum again some 45 minutes later, we were both drenched in sweat and saliva, as he also taught me how hot it was to spit at your partner. I had found a kink and despite its risk, I told myself I could trust other guys who were in my same situation: HIV negative sluts who wanted to experience raw sex, as it was intended to be, exchanging fluids without care. All we needed to do was check our status consistently and share this info with our partners.

I did this for a couple years before I found out that a good friend who attended the same sex parties I did, had tested positive for HIV. At this point meds had stopped making it a death sentence, but I was shaken for the first time in my life. Actually, I was more than shaken, I was terrified. As my friend told me two other guys had also tested positive, I became aware I had internalized all the bad things I had heard about AIDS growing up. It was pretty clear that our lifestyle had caught up with us, and that sense of excitement and complacency that had driven us had been irresponsible. There was nobody to blame, after all we were all grown men who made the choice of having unprotected sex with many different anonymous sex partners. We’d just ask “Are you clean?”, as if being HIV positive made you dirty. But now I was the one who was about to find out something that would change my life further.

I made an appointment to see my gay doctor. He decided to do a quick swab test and also draw blood for the more thorough follow up. The waiting was so difficult for me as I had never had anything even remotely similar happen to me. I was born into an upper-middle class home, with two loving parents who always supported me, a big brother who was very close to me, and plenty of good friends. I had never had any real hardships. I went to a good school, but not one that would require me to work hard. With my intelligence and cunning, I graduated on time with good grades and went on to a good job that demanded just enough effort to get by. As I thought of this while waiting for the test results, I felt every negative emotion seize control of me and shake me to my core. The doctor came back into the room where I’d been left waiting on my own to tell me the test was negative, but he would still run the blood work just to make sure. He also asked me if I would be OK allowing him to use my blood sample for his research, as he was working precisely on HIV transmission. I agreed to everything, relieved to have that diagnosis. I went home telling myself I needed to do some serious introspection. I was no longer going to be thoughtless.

Two weeks later I received a call from my doctor’s office, asking me to come in for a follow up of my recent visit. I freaked out. Had the blood work shown I was indeed positive? Thankfully, they asked me to come in that same day later in the afternoon. I was there almost an hour early, and as soon as my name was called, I hurried into the doctor’s office. He told me I could calm down as the test had been negative again. But he had found something else that was important for me to know. He was working with a geneticist on his research and they had identified a gene named CCR5 Delta32 that seemed to provide immunity to HIV to its carriers. I was one of these people, one of very few, he stressed. This group had ancestral ties to northern Europe (both my parents were descendants of Scandinavians), and it was theorized the mutation in this gene had occurred during an illness that decimated the population during the last Ice Age. As he explained this to me, I was trying to process what this actually meant. Was I immune to HIV or had I just been lucky? Would this immunity be permanent? Could I completely disregard all safe sex practices in the knowledge that no illness I could catch was untreatable? My doctor stressed the importance of being responsible as a given, regardless of the news I had just received. He did tell me that it was actual immunity to the virus, and that they were working on this specific gene to develop a cure. I should be grateful, he insisted. But to me it meant a lot more. For the very first time in my life I felt privilege manifested in the most stark terms possible. Forget that I was at the top of the socioeconomic and political ladder, this was real. What did I do to deserve this that others didn’t? How did I earn this? No direct answers came to me at the moment, but I decided I would not share this information with anybody. Not even with my brother or my closest friend. I was somewhat ashamed, and felt guilty, so I decided it best to keep it to myself. I walked out of his office numb from the intensity of what I had felt, as if my mind had decided I couldn’t handle any more emotions. I went home and stayed in for a couple weeks, reading up, seeking out a therapist, and taking stock of my life. For the first time ever I was determined to be in control and to live life with a purpose.

That was the beginning of so many good things for me. I had majored in marketing because it used my intellect, but little else; and I was good at it. So I found an opportunity to volunteer helping non-profits with their marketing, and I realized one could be personally satisfied with a career that had meaning. I also stopped being sexually irresponsible. I didn’t slut-shame or turn away from sex, I just decided I wanted it to be meaningful, so I stopped attending anonymous sex parties. I strengthened my relationships with my friends and became even closer, if possible, to my family. I had found meaning in every aspect of my life and for the first time I was not just content getting by, but actually happy.

This is when I met Dick. He was a funny guy who purposely went by Dick instead of Richard to get a laugh out of people. He told me it was the quickest ice-melter ever. He always claimed his parents had saddled him with the name. I later learned he chose it when he left for college in an effort to reinvent himself as a man, leaving little Ricky behind with his childhood. He was smart, successful, and insanely hot. I was smitten upon meeting him and deep in love within a few weeks of dating. I had never loved anybody in that way before, and I was head over heels. Dick’s life was even more privileged than mine had been. Being much more driven than I growing up, he had been a successful athlete, collecting trophies while maintaining perfect grades. He went to an Ivy for both his undergrad and for medical school. He had the brains, the brawn, the looks, the money, and the connections. And he was madly in love with me, and I with him. Our sex life was out of this world. He was fully versatile, as was I, and it wasn’t uncommon for us to fuck each other senseless a few times in a single night.

Within 6 months we moved in together and by our second anniversary he proposed. He beat me to the punch by minutes, as we had both intended to propose the same night. A romantic getaway to Puerto Rico, celebrating our anniversary. I had intended to propose as we walked on the beach before bed, but he did it after dessert at the restaurant. I said yes and when I told him about my plans, he had me follow through with them and even pretended to be shocked. Yes, he was definitely a keeper.

As we planned the wedding, he asked me about children. I had never wanted any, as I had seldom wanted anything at all in life. I was surprised that I didn’t need much convincing and agreed to his request that we have a child. He said he preferred we go the surrogate route, as adoptions could be complicated and lengthy. I didn’t object, but did ask who would be the father. He said we could mix our sperm and never know who it was, that way we’d both be the father. I once again agreed, as it seemed sensible to me.

So after an amazing wedding in Newport, RI and our 2 month honeymoon travelling through South America, we got back and settled into our lives. We immediately started the surrogacy search as we were eager to complete our family. One year later, Kye was born. He was a healthy, beautiful baby, and he took after both of us in different ways. We were far from being twin boyfriends, which is so common in the gay world. I was pale and blonde and he was a swarthy brunette. Kye had dark hair, but he had very fair skin. It didn’t matter to us, because we told ourselves that our sperm had merged into one, and that he was the product of our union. My life was blissful to say the least.

A couple years went by in which I pinched myself, grateful that my life felt like a fairy tale. But it wasn’t a fantasy, it was real and meaningful, and I was the happiest man I knew. And then I found out. It was by sheer accident, really. I had never been jealous or insecure, as I had never had a reason to doubt his fidelity. Since the very beginning of our relationship we had decided that we both wanted to be monogamous. I had grown as a person so much after my slutty phase, that it just felt right. I was still very sex positive and celebrated most of my friends’ open relationships, but I wanted a man just for myself, and he was more than enough man for me. When Dick told me he wanted that before I even broached the subject, I felt it was one of the signs he was the one for me.

So on that morning his phone rang while in the shower. We were expecting a call from a contractor so he asked me to pick it up. As I answered the phone from an unidentified number, I was asked if I was Dr. X-Y (we had hyphenated our last names alphabetically, mine going first). I said yes, and I was told that they were calling with the test results for his routine PReP bloodwork, something was not right, and his doctor needed him to come in and see him immediately. I froze as I felt my world stop. PReP? Truvada had been introduced recently and I had heard of Truvada whores (men who took PReP so they could be sluttier and engage in otherwise riskier sex practices), but we were monogamous and didn’t have a need for it as we were both HIV negative. I don’t even remember how I hung up. After a few seconds during which my mind was racing, he called out to ask who it was. Without thinking I told him it was his doctor’s office asking him to call them back. I didn’t tell him why, but he loudly stated it was probably to schedule his annual physical. I told him I needed to check on Kye and walked out of our ensuite. I knew I had to think things carefully before deciding what to do.   

I started looking for the obvious signs I had missed, but I could not find anything out of what was ordinary to me. True, we had sex only a couple times a week, and he was not as willing to bottom for me if he had topped me first as he used to before Kye was born, but I just attributed it to the cool down I knew was a part of growing into a more stable relationship. That came with the territory. I was devastated, but couldn’t muster the strength nor courage to discuss it with anybody. I didn’t want my friends and family to hate him before I decided whether I would stay or leave. Leave? What about Kye? Did I want him to grow up with divorced parents? And if we were to divorce, who would win custody of him? Dick was loaded, and he could hire the best attorneys in town. His salary also dwarfed mine, and without his income, I could never afford our lifestyle. A few days went by in which my mind was a mess. I canceled as many classes as I could since I couldn’t focus on anything other than his betrayal. I barely slept at night, and just kept going over and over my options, trying to figure out what to do.

By the end of the week, Dick came home in the middle of the day. He looked terrible. The minute he walked in he asked me where Kye was. I told him he was taking his afternoon nap in his room as usual. The nanny didn’t come in on Fridays, as I worked from home those days so I could spend more time with him. Dick walked up to me and collapsed in my arms, sobbing. I asked what was the matter, he could barely speak, but managed to say that his doctor had wanted to see him because of bloodwork he had had done in preparation for his annual checkup. His liver was damaged and it was likely he would need a transplant. For a split second I wondered if perhaps the nurse who called had made a mistake and my husband was in fact innocent, and seriously ill. So I pushed for more information. He was a mess and couldn’t really explain, but he was scared. I comforted him and took on the voice of reason, I told him we’d see a specialist and figure out what it really meant, and that I was with him through sickness and health.

We agreed he should schedule an appointment with a specialist friend of his from medical school. I told him to call while I went to check on Kye, who had woken up. I purposely left the two-way baby monitor on so I could hear the conversation. Though I could only hear Dick, he did tell him this had popped up in his routine checkup for his PReP. He also asked him for discretion as he believed I didn’t know and I would like to go along with him. This finally confirmed it for me. By this point I had managed to fully control my emotions surrounding his cheating, and I did not want him to know I knew, so I simply planned to go with him to the appointment.

That day, we showed up early and he was visibly nervous. I held his hand and reassured him everything would be all right, but deep down I was taking notes of everything happening so I could decide how to proceed. The motherfucker would pay, and I just needed to know how I could exact my revenge. Once in the office, his friend introduced himself to me. Dr. Johanssen was stunning: tall, blonde, muscular, and charming. To my surprise, we was also gay.  I wondered why Dick hadn’t ever mentioned him. Was there history between them, as he seemed a better-looking version of myself? I quickly pushed those thoughts and focused my attention on the reason for our visit.

Ike, as he asked me to call him, explained to us that indeed Dick had moderate cirrhosis, probably the outcome of an earlier hepatitis infection. Dick confirmed he’d had hepatitis B when in college. I looked at him with disbelief as I never knew and he told me he was ashamed as he had contracted it during his slutty stage after coming out. That was why he had always insisted on a monogamous relationship between us. “Until you decided to cheat.” I thought to myself. I also wondered what Ike was thinking, as he knew that this had come out because my “monogamous” husband was secretly on PreP. Ike said though not ideal, it was a condition that could be managed, and if things were to get worse, liver transplants were pretty advanced with a high success rate. “Liver transplant?” Dick’s world was crashing down before my eyes, and mine as an extension. But I was already aware that mine was a fantasy on borrowed time, so I stayed quiet and offered whatever comfort I could.

As we left Ike’s office after scheduling follow-up appointments for the next several months, we got in the car and drove home without saying anything. When we arrived, Dick parked the car and held my hand before getting out of the car. He told me he was not scared as he knew with me he could face whatever challenges lay ahead, Kye and I were his rock and he’d just have to work harder at staying healthy. He told me I shouldn’t worry about our sex life being impacted. That we had recently been complacent and let that slide by, but that having an active and satisfactory sex life was part of being healthy, and he intended to improve on that too.

That statement turned a light on in my brain. A plan was starting to hatch in my mind. The asshole probably wouldn’t be taking PreP anymore, and now would have to rely solely on me to satisfy his sexual appetite. This would be how I’d get at him. After all, I didn’t need to take PreP, I was genetically protected against HIV, though he didn’t know.

In the weeks that followed this I felt a change come over the both of us. He became a better partner than he’d ever been, more loving and caring than I could possibly imagine. He cut back on his work hours, a luxury he could afford as he was one of the founding partners at his practice. Financially, he barely felt it. We were more than comfortable and even now, didn’t have to worry about money. I in turn felt my detachment escalate, though all was happening within me, without any overt indication of what I was going through. I started secretly exploring online the sex party scene I’d left behind. I would make the biggest cuckold out of this man who had not only broken my heart, but destroyed my entire world and everything within that I’d build with such care.

After about a month, I mustered the courage to go to a sex party. Despite having cried a lot in private during the last few weeks, I was done crying and ready to put my revenge in motion.  I told him I was working late with a professor from another department for a committee assignment. As he had no reason to doubt me, he didn’t question it. I went to the party and once there realized how much I had missed being a slut. I fucked every guy who spread his legs for me. I also bottomed for several guys that very first night. With Truvada now widely available, nobody asked about your status. I got mostly weird looks when I asked followed by the automatic “I’m on PreP”. One guy did tell me he was positive, but undetectable. When I pushed for more info, he got defensive, snidely commenting that if being a bugchaser was my thing, I should attend those parties instead. Bugchaser? Those parties? What was he talking about. I felt embarrassed to push it any further and instead focused on the sexual release I was experiencing. I was an addict fallen off the wagon and in the depths of the best bender possible. All that ass and all those dicks made me feel alive and even forget my sorrows for the near 4 hours I stayed.

By the time I got home, Dick and Kye were already in bed and sleeping, as they were both early risers. I quietly took a long shower and made sure to rinse my hole out so there’d be no evidence of the loads I’d taken. As I fingered myself in the shower, I closed my eyes and relived the thrill of feeling like a total slut earlier. It was enough to get my high. This would be my future life and I would never give it up. If Dick found out, I’d confront him about his own cheating and tell him I wanted an open relationship. But that would not do, as he might agree to it just to see me happy. I wanted him to pay and I was shocked when I came to the realization that I truly did not love him anymore. Even the knowledge that he’d accept my terms and beg my forgiveness even after tonight’s events failed to move any feelings of love toward him. I just wanted him to pay and somehow making him a cuck wasn’t feeling like enough. I had to think harder.

The following week I struggled to focus on anything other than Kye. At work I was distracted and with Dick I seemed to be mentally elsewhere. He even inquired if I was worried about his condition and what it meant for our future financial stability. I assured him that wasn’t it and I was just preoccupied with work as this new committee assignment was much more burdensome than I had anticipated. Though I could tell he wasn’t fully convinced, I had never given him a reason to doubt me. I guess he simply thought I was in denial and was instead using work as a distraction. I didn’t care, as what was truly on my mind was what that guy had told me. I did my research and found out what bugchasing was (HIV negative individuals seeking HIV positive guys to fuck them raw and breed them with their “toxic loads”), and that in fact there was such a party twice a month in town. I knew I was immune, but I doubted Dick was. When we’d gotten our DNA ancestry test just for fun, he had come back 60% Mediterranean, 35% Latin American (his mother was Mexican), and 5% a mongrel like the rest of us. No Scandinavian blood in him, so the likelihood was near zero. I was starting to hatch my true revenge.

I read as much as I could on his condition, and what could worsen it. He didn’t suspect my true motives, thinking instead I was as determined as he was to fight this and not let it win. I instead was exploring what would happen to someone with a compromised liver if they contracted HIV. The outlook was not good: most treatments impacted the liver and in fact, chronic liver failure itself was a common ailment of AIDS patients. I also learned as much as I could about HIV transmission, though this I did on my own as I didn’t want anybody to know I was interested in the matter. Dick was uncut, which put him at higher risk for contagion. Rectal fluid increased the risk of transmission for the top too. The best way to increase rectal fluid is to avoid using silicone lube, as the body will try to reduce the friction caused by anal sex. The more you take it raw and dry, the more the rectum will try to compensate with mucous secretion, especially if you bottom regularly. The engineering marvel that is the human body!

So I finally laid out my revenge in my mind. I would go to every chasing party I could, come home with an ass full of “toxic loads”, have Dick fuck me, and let nature take its course. At the party I’d take any and all loads just for fun. Then I’d take a quick shower there and get one more load before heading home. Once there, another quick shower and I’d tell Dick I was horny and had pre-lubed in the bathroom. He fucked me with abandon and I was so turned on by what I was doing that these sessions became the hottest sex we’d ever had. I was insatiable and became an aggressive and demanding bottom, urging him to fuck me harder and fill me with his jizz. I’d lick, bite, and spit at him, and he’d take it all with a vigor I hadn’t seen before. He had no reason to suspect I was using sex to get my revenge, as he didn’t know I even knew about his cheating.

We carried on with this new routine for several months, and then, as the fall was coming to an end, Dick came down with a mysterious flu-like illness. I wondered if he was seroconverting, but just tended to him as any dutiful husband would. I just had to wait a bit to see what happened. Sure enough, the next routine checkup showed odd levels in his bloodwork and he was asked to do more studies. As he was no longer on PreP, as a married man he was not interested in getting an STD panel, so I had to patiently wait for them to get there on their own time. I continued attending the parties and having him fuck me senseless without any lube other than men’s cum. He didn’t even suspect.

Finally, after eliminating all other potential culprits they decided to run an HIV test and he came back positive. The day he received the news, he had asked me to go to his appointment with him as he was concerned with the fact they couldn’t find why he was off-balance. The stress was taking its toll on him too, so I agreed to be there as we were in it together. Truthfully, the anticipation was killing me. I didn’t know if I was excited, scared, or just shocked to realize what had been a fantasy put in motion could turn out to be our reality. Ike came into his office and sat down without showing much emotion. He looked directly at Dick and told him: “I really don’t want to beat around the bush, so I think it best to speak to you directly in consideration of our history. We ran as many tests as possible and I still couldn’t make sense of the results so that is why I asked you to come back so I could check for HIV. You have tested positive. I reran the tests and the results were confirmed. There is no doubt in mind at this point.” Dick stared blankly at him and then blinked repeatedly, as if he did not understand what was just said. I went back from one face to the other, trying to grasp whether they were secretly communicating. I was sure Dick would have spoken in greater detail about his PreP as that had triggered this whole thing to begin with.   

“How can this be?” I asked. They both looked at me as it dawned on them that I would likely be positive too. Ike turned to Dick and gave him a stern look, as if secretly saying “Either you tell him or I will”. Dick started crying as he kissed my hand over and over, saying “I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry!” “Sorry for what?” I asked. I knew the answer, but I had to hear it from him. “I might have put you at risk.” He said in between sobs. “Might have?” I yelled as I pulled my hand off. Ike asked me to calm down and told me I could get a rapid test immediately and a full PCR test just to make sure. I knew I’d be negative, but I had to follow through. The wait for the result was tough even for me, but when the result came back I saw relief and sheer terror in Dick’s face. There was no hiding from it now: he was positive, I was negative, he had stepped out on our marriage, thus exposing me to the risk of HIV. He didn’t know I had too, or that I was responsible for the situation. How could he? He probably didn’t even think about the possibility that I was immune. It was so rare that only few people had been identified so far.

The rest of the visit was a blur. Ike tried to be calm and refer me to resources, including a recommendation I follow up with my own doctor. Dick was like a zombie, too afraid to even look in my direction. We stood up, I thanked him and walked out leaving Dick behind. He caught up with me just a minute later as I was approaching our car. I didn’t say anything, just opened the car and turned it on. He let himself in on the passenger side and as he was about to say something I said: “Not now. But know this, you will never touch me again. You will move your belongings to the spare bedroom in the basement and give me space”. It felt good to finally let out the rage I had felt that fateful morning over 6 months ago. I couldn’t believe how angry I felt, as if it had just been brewing within me and it could now come out unrestrained. He just nodded in agreement and he quietly sobbed all the way home. He was probably terrified and ashamed, feeling guilty and miserable, and I just felt contempt toward him. There was no compassion for him, as there was no love left either. I also realized I had not thought of what would happen now. My plan had been rich in fantasy surrounding his contagion, but I had never thought of what I would do after. I had a lot to think about. I needed to decompress, so after dropping him off at home, I drove off and stayed out until very late, getting fucked senselessly over and over by anonymous men at the bathhouse. I needed to numb myself before I set to the task of deciding what to do about the rest of our lives together. I got home around midnight. Kye was asleep in his room and there was no sign of Dick in our room. I snuck a peak down to the basement and saw the dim light of a lamp reflected into the hallway. I was sure he was awake, and probably needed comforting more than anything in the world at that moment. I didn’t care. I went back to my room, took a shower and fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning when I got up, I found Dick in the kitchen. The nanny had taken Kye to the park, as he needed to be alone with me to tell me his story. I told him I would listen. It all started soon after our marriage. He had only been keen on monogamy because of his terrible experience with hepatitis B during college. That had freaked him out, but he had always felt he’d missed out on the slutty life of most single gay men. Then he met me and he realized I was the one. He never felt the need nor the interest in other men during the first years of our relationship. Then Kye came along and as I devoted myself to him, he felt a bit excluded and several of the gay nurses at his job started looking very desirable. One of them worked extra hard at seducing him, telling him with PreP nowadays nobody knew and nobody cared. That sex was just sex and that it didn’t have to mean anything. Though he didn’t have sex with him, he did ask to get on PreP to explore his options. He thought of coming to me and asking about opening the relationship, but I was so happy and committed to our marriage as it was that he was afraid to lose me just by asking. So instead, he decided that if he was smart and discreet enough, he could have his cake and eat it too. He was on it for just about six months, and during that period he had anonymous sex with probably a dozen men. As he said how many he looked down at his hands and I noticed they were shaking. Though his voice was calm, the raw emotion was coming through clearly.  This was gut-wrenching for him. I somehow realized he was telling the truth. After all, he had never lied to me in any other circumstance and there was nothing to lose at this point, as it was lost already. He then told me what I already knew, that his doctor had called to tell him something was wrong with his liver tests. He immediately went off PreP and never again slept with any other man but me. He didn’t understand how I had managed to avoid getting infected, but he was so grateful as he could not live with himself if he were responsible for infecting me too. I let him finish as I sipped my tea not showing any emotion. Once he was done, he asked me what I wanted to do. I told him I wanted to have my breakfast, get on with my life, and then find the time and peace of mind to think about what this meant. That he could rest assured I would not throw him out as Kye did not deserve that. But in regards to me, he’d do well to let me be. He quietly agreed and stood there in silence, as if lacking the courage to push any further, but also to walk away. I left him there and got ready for work.

Thus our lives continued for a few weeks, I avoiding or altogether ignoring him, he trying stay clear of my way but still spending as much time as possible with Kye. Nobody outside our home besides medical staff knew what we were going through. One day when I got home he was waiting for me in the kitchen. He asked if we could talk as he needed to share something with me. I told him yes and then he let me know. There was no way to treat him with the current meds for HIV as his liver was too damaged. The disease would probably progress into full blown AIDS in the not so distant future as even a liver transplant was now out of the question. There was no way he’d get to the top of that list, even if there was a donor. So he had decided to leave his practice. He would say he was taking a medical leave. If anybody asked, informally they’d say he had chronic liver disease as he didn’t want the practice to suffer from the stigma HIV still carried. After all, he noted it was part of Kye and my financial security. He would need to see his doctors now regularly, and it was encouraged he bring his primary caregiver along with him so they were in the know of what to expect. He said he had no right to ask and just wanted to let me know he would hire someone so I would not be subjected to that. I told him that was unnecessary letting him know I remembered my vows, and they included in sickness and in health in addition to fidelity and loyalty. I just had to jab that one in. He started crying silently again. I somehow didn’t get any pleasure form torturing him and immediately apologized. He said I was right, but I told him that wouldn’t get either of us anywhere and now we just needed to get through whatever was ahead of us for Kye’s sake as much as for the rest of our families. He looked up and thanked me and I told him he didn’t have to, I was happy to provide him some level of support in consideration of the love we once shared. He continued sobbing quietly as I walked out and left him alone in the kitchen. The next morning I got up and decided to plan the rest of our lives. I wanted Kye to enjoy whatever time he had left with him. So I asked for a schedule of his doctor appointments and organized my work life around it. I was due for a sabbatical at work and I applied for the following term. We were at the beginning of the spring semester, so in three months we’d be on summer vacation and I could take the entire following academic year. I figured if things got really bad beyond that, I could always apply for FMLA to care for a family member. That could buy me another semester.

Dick was more than grateful. It appeared as if he thought this was the beginning of the road to forgiveness, but I was beyond that. The first few months were tough, as I was still working. However, by the end of the semester, everything fell into place. I somehow let go of the anger I had felt toward him. But the love was truly gone. By the next winter, things had really started to deteriorate. After the holidays, Dick came down with a very bad cold. Within two days he was running a fever so high that he was delirious and in need of hospitalization. It turned into pneumonia and his doctors told me I should prepare as this was the beginning of the end. I stayed by his side for days, barely seeing Kye when they’d bring him over. I needed to make sure I did right by my son, as regardless of Dick’s cheating, he had been a good father and that memory would have to last to build him up in the eyes of Kye when he became a man. I needed Dick around a little longer. He recovered and was sent home, but at that point it truly was for the final stages. He had lost so much weight that he looked like a waif. His skin was ashen and he had lost much of his hair. He wanted to be near me or Kye at all times, and would toss and turn in his sleep.

As the final days drew near, I wrestled with telling him the truth. I felt I needed to unburden myself if I were ever to move on and devote my life to Kye. Summer was coming to an end and I had gotten that extra semester off to care for Dick. One day he struggled to swallow his food and after rushing him to the ER, they had to perform a tracheostomy. It was so traumatic to his frail body that we were told he would not speak again. The end was here. That night, as I sat next to him in his bed he looked into my eyes and I realized his were brimming with tears. I asked if he was in pain, he shook his head to tell me no. He tried to speak, but I told him not to exert himself. He still mouthed the words “Thank you, my love.” I told him he didn’t have to and that I had something to tell him. And I did. I told him everything, from how I had first found out I was immune to HIV, to how he had transformed my life and then ripped it apart, killing my heart and my capacity to ever trust or love a man again. I told him I had done this to him and even told him how. I also told him I did it for Kye, so I could keep him and raise him because I knew if I had divorced him, I would have lost my son too. Kye was the only good thing left in me, the one thing for which I would fight forever, and I’d kill anybody who represented harm to him, myself included. He just listened and would nod every so often. I wondered if he already knew, as he took it all so calmly. When I finished I told him I was sorry I didn’t love him anymore, it was just that he had killed that part of me when he broke my heart. He motioned with his hand as if he wanted to write. I brought a piece of paper and though he tried to write, he just couldn’t. So I turned on my tablet and let him touch the screen to type his message. It read: “I’m sorry I hurt you so.” The next morning he appeared in a good mood, but he didn’t make it through the day. He died that night holding my hand.   

I then went home to my son. I had nothing to worry about. Dick was now gone and I had no emotional baggage left. Though I didn’t feel the need to ask for forgiveness it felt good to unburden myself. Moving on, I would just focus on raising my son. Financially, we were set for life, between his wealth, the practice, and life insurance, I could even afford to never work again while maintaining my lifestyle, but that was not the example I wanted to give my son. As to my sex life, I stopped attending bugchasing parties, though I did go back to regular ones. I realized my sexuality was complex and just as a person can have one drink and not get drunk, I too could enjoy having sex as I wanted without being reckless or feeling guilty. When I got back to work, I took as light a load as possible. As a single dad, my colleagues understood I wanted to focus on what really mattered to me so as long I pulled my weight, I had their support. Finally, my family and friends came through for me. I had not made them privy to everything that had really happened between us, and I kept Dick’s illness from them, but I’m sure they wouldn’t have cared. As I grew older and wiser, I realized I was once again content but I was also keenly aware that I would never love nor trust a man again. Other than my son. My capacity to destroy the man who had been my entire world as revenge is beyond my comprehension, but I wonder if others in my exact circumstances wouldn’t do the same. Would you?