Telling Paul, my boyfriend, would prove to be the biggest hurdle I would have to jump.

I thought telling my mom would be, but I promised myself that I would be brave and honest. I walked right out into the waiting room and I told her. Paul was in the bathroom at the time so it made it a little easier that I only had an audience of one. The words just fell out of my mouth. I could see the pain and shock register on her face but I held onto my guns and told her that “We will discuss this later. I know you love me and this isn’t an easy thing to hear, but I need some time to think right now.” She understood. She gave me a hug and allowed me to have some space. This was the greatest gift she has ever given me. Now I just had to tell Paul.

When I tested positive, we had been together for three years. Like any relationship we have our ups and downs, and at this particular point I felt like we were in a permanent down.

Maybe it was the fact that our living situation was pretty shaky - we were couch surfing which made it impossible to have a private conversation, and our sex life was pretty much non-existent. I felt so far away from him and it was chipping away at me.

That familiar feeling of disappointment was beginning to creep back into my heart.

I knew I loved him but I started to think that maybe we were growing apart. I didn’t want to believe that, but instead of turning to old habits, I retreated inwards and kept my fears to myself. It could probably be said, that is turning to old habits, but I was dead set against not going in to free fall. I wasn’t going to numb the pain with drugs and sex. I realized at this point that denying the fact that I was positive by hiding behind those things wasn’t going to get me anywhere and at least by retreating inwards, I knew where my thoughts were and I couldn’t run away this time. I don’t recommend bottling things up but I had to have some control over what was going on and believe me when I say that I was really reflecting on my life up until that point. It wasn’t all good but it wasn’t all bad either. I just had a lot to think about.

Paul can read me like a book and knew something was wrong. My refusal to communicate with him cut quite deep. We began to fight a lot and I think that we both believed that breaking up was one step away. I always thought that testing positive would be the tipping point to the tensions boiling underneath.

Regardless, there was no question that I had to tell him. Even if we weren’t getting along, I still respected him, but I didn’t even know where to begin.

As it turned out Paul confronted me. I was taking a bath thinking about how I was going to tell him. As if we are connected by thoughts, he walked right into the bathroom with that damn piece of paper. I must have left it out and he found it.

With tears in his eyes he asked me “What was this?” I could barely look at him, but I knew this was the moment that I needed to come clean. Not because he asked me, but because I knew that all this inner turmoil would subside for a bit if I did.

The next few hours were emotional to say the least. For the first time in a while, I felt like we were connecting - a conversation of tears and questions but also one of truths.

The next few months would prove to be trickier to navigate. I watched Paul rotate through a string of emotions and who could blame him?

At first he was angry, the person he loved just tested positive and he couldn’t understand why. Anger quickly turned into fear for my future, as well as his possible status. It hurt to see it. I was always thinking about being positive and seeing Paul so emotionally torn really depressed me.

Paul got tested and he turned out negative, which was a relief, but now we needed to adjust to our new mixed-status relationship. I was consumed with figuring out how to start treatment, but I also needed to pay a lot more attention to Paul. He still had a lot of questions and I tried my best to answer them, but I was so busy running back and forth to the doctor.

We had stalled within our relationship again because every conversation turned to HIV. It was like we didn’t have anything else to talk about. Although I was happy he was negative, I was still hyper aware of this glaring difference that was now between us.

The worst part of it all was our dry spell. I think we were both terrified of having sex. I can’t speak for Paul, but I felt uncomfortable in my own skin.

When things finally settled down, we had our own place again and my visits to the doctor became more routine, our relationship picked up again. He surprised me by bringing up the lack of sex in our relationship. The initial shock had wore off for him at that point and he was ready to be intimate again, if I was. He wanted his boyfriend back, and he truly believed we could make it through this. Paul said at least we know and that the two of us could handle this.

I saw the guy I had fallen in love with.

All the things I admired in him just radiated. It was exactly what I needed to hear. I needed to live again and he wanted to live there next to me. I smiled when he brought home condoms and lube for the first time. The dry spell was finally broken!

Our sex life has gotten better since. After going without for a while, sex had that brand new feeling again. Safety is a must but it doesn’t make fucking any less fun or enjoyable or whatever you want to call it. Considering where I’ve come from, this realization is huge. Paul and I aren’t perfect and we still disconnect once in a while, but for the most part this experience has brought us closer together.

As I approach twenty-five, I’ve definitely learned a few lessons.

Identifying as a positive man has hatched some new problems, like disclosure and navigating the murky waters of a mixed-status realtionship. I hate to say it, but sometimes I don’t think Paul can truly understand what it means to be positive, because we are not in the same boat. When I allow silly thoughts like this to bounce around in my brain, I always have to remember that love is not black and white. It is actually very gray and his reasons for sticking around are his. I have to trust that he will let me know when things aren’t working out. These new obstacles are not nearly as hard to get over as the ones I faced when I first seroconverted.

Disclosure has become a theme in my life. While I constantly worry about hurting others with the news (it’s my idea of hell), I know I have to get over that and I will in time.

If anything, I feel a little bit more in tune with myself. It’s important for me not to get distracted by all the noise, that comes with testing positive. The social stigmas attached to being positive, the doctor visits and the anxiety that comes along with producing a good blood test. Consistently being in my head takes the focus away from the other things, like healing.