I came from a strict Lebanese Catholic background, and wasn’t familiar with the gay lifestyle or gay sex. When I did explore my sexuality and went out to nightclubs, I met a man and fell in love at first sight.
He told me he was HIV positive. I was naïve and came from a very sheltered world, but I realised if I protected myself with condoms I would be safe. This was still new and scary. It was 1999.
He was my first boyfriend, my very first lover. I had no sexual partners before that, and I felt thrown into a relationship already shrouded in danger. It lasted two years, and it turned out to be destructive in some ways, because he had a chip on his shoulder, feeling like the world had abandoned him. But I felt very loyal to him, and even when we broke up on a few occasions, I wanted nothing more than to be with him.
I got tested throughout that time. And every time I did, I would cry myself to sleep thinking I definitely had something. After a while, I grew in the knowledge that it was difficult to get HIV if you practise safe sex.
My next partner was negative and he, like my first partner, was ten years older than me. He had more sexual experience and I freaked when he suggested we have unprotected sex. I didn’t know what it was like. I’d only ever known condoms, and it was a big thing to let go of that protection. Even though we went to his doctor and both tested negative, it was like trusting somebody with your life. But once I did, it was fantastic and liberating. We were monogamous and it worked well.
After we split up, I dated another man and he told me he was positive. By then I felt more educated and said: “I’ve been in a relationship and there’s no problem.” And he was so, so overwhelmed with my response because he’d had other men who had rejected him. I just said to him, “We’ll just protect ourselves. It’s all good.”
The whole time we were together we had safe sex, and we started off on a great note, but after the third month, the honeymoon was over and things went sour. Although he was no longer in love with me, his therapist said he needed to work at the relationship.
I was on steroids at the time. Sometimes I couldn’t sustain an erection, and putting on a condom aggravated the problem. I had a lot of psychological distress trying to fulfil him and sustain a sexual relationship, along with the stress of HIV. I felt my masculinity was questioned because I had to be dominant and impress him. When I became more of a bottom, I could sense he wasn’t fulfilled, or he was reserving himself in some ways.
He didn’t do any drugs because he had been addicted, and wouldn’t do anything that would cause him to relapse. I also stopped steroids and drugs, because I knew it affected him. Drugs weren’t a big thing in my life anyway, and I would just do them twice a year at a major dance party.
After six or seven months of the relationship, I just wanted to go out and have some fun, and not feel so suffocated. We went out to a leather party and I told him I was going to do drugs. He eventually went home, and I stayed out the rest of the night with my friends.
The following morning he called and asked me over to have sex. I went over to his place and we did, all protected, maybe three times. It was the most sex I’d ever had with him in one short period. I was so happy because I was thinking: “Wow this is great.” I was on a high.
A few days later, I did a two hour photo-shoot on a really cold night in the nude. I came back from the photo-shoot shivering so bad I thought I had caught pneumonia. The whole night I just couldn’t stop shaking, and a couple of days later I got the flu in a bad way. My life is always geared towards health, but I hadn’t been so sick in my life. My partner was worried because he knew I was never sick. I had a sore throat and thought I should get it checked, and also had a blood test done. A few days later the doctor called and asked me to come in. I knew something was wrong because this particular doctor is well known as an HIV specialist.
The test came back positive for HIV. It was the middle of last year. We went and got the results together, and he fell apart. I just didn’t know what had happened. I had protected myself completely with him. Never did the condom break. Never did he even ejaculate with the condom on, never. They put it down to my having a strep infection around the time of going to these parties, taking drugs, having sex, and that he wasn’t on medication and his viral load was high.
How could this be possible? What did I do to deserve this? I don’t know anybody personally who’s had this experience. I know guys who practise unsafe sex, and still haven’t become positive. I felt like I had the raw end of the stick. The doctor said he probably gets two cases a year of people who don’t know how they got it, and it’s not common.
I didn’t cope with it at all. My doctor sent me to a counsellor, who I still see to this day. Had it not been for her support, I wouldn’t have got through this. It was like when I first came out, and the shame of being gay, and now there was another secret to hide. I felt like nobody knew about what had happened, and wondered how I was going to approach the subject.
When I was diagnosed and the doctor spoke to me, I could hear him talk, but I just didn’t know what he was talking about. Looking back, he was telling me about my viral load, and my t cells and how I should go on medication straight away. And I normally don’t even take medication for anything. I don’t even take Panadol.
I just couldn’t believe what was happening to me. I remember going back home that night and taking this medication and feeling violently ill from it. And feeling even more down and crying desperately about the state that I was in now.
Becoming positive put a huge strain on our relationship. The sex declined and it just added another weight he couldn’t bear, although I came to him from the space of true love. He used the excuse that, sexually, we weren’t compatible now, and it got to the point where communication just ended.
I wondered who would take me and who would have me. I didn’t feel like I could share what had happened with other men. I did tell a few friends and they were very supportive. I would never disclose with casual partners, and they would never disclose. I would just protect myself and protect them. But eventually a few guys did tell me they were positive, and I disclosed to them, and we had unprotected sex. I started to think I should just look for positive men, because we’re both on the same plane, and there’s more pleasure.
Through this time I just had to wear the brunt of the storm because I was losing weight, and was scared of things like lipodystrophy. I was trying to keep the secret of HIV as well as hold my life together, and my career. My counsellor described it as “like trying to keep five basketballs afloat under water.”
After six months, my doctor told me I could stop medication. I’ve been off them now for a month and my life has gone back to normal. I don’t feel the pressures of remembering I have HIV.
I met my current partner four months ago. He told me early on he was positive, and I said: “Oh my God so am I.” I felt so relieved. We have an amazing sexual experience together, uninhibited, and monogamous.
Being with him has been a real blessing, because it’s exactly what I want. I’ve become more liberated with sex. I can take medication, talk to him freely, and be open about being sexual. Emotionally, physically and psychologically, we’re on the same plane. We’re both the same age and we want the same things. Having him as a partner at the moment has helped me with the stigma attached to HIV. It’s not confronting me wherever I turn.
The more educated I become, the stronger I become. I realised I wasn’t going to die from this, and if I looked after myself, I was going to have a long and healthy life. I also realised I can share that knowledge as well. I’ve since met a lot of positive guys and there’s comfort and solace in knowing them.
Sam was interviewed by Kathy Triffitt for the forthcoming Positive Life campaign on serodiscordant relationships Disco Nights.