I distinctly remember being in high school the first time I heard the word AIDS. Tons of sex-crazed, teen-oriented movies like Porky’s, Revenge of the Nerds, The Last American Virgin, and Fast Times at Ridgemont High were being released, along with their equally successful sequels. It used to be that herpes was the most serious thing you could get — medical science had found a cure for pretty much everything else. Now, playing Russian Roulette with your penis can get you just as killed, and it’s a slow death at that. You don’t see quite as many movies like Porky’s being made anymore.
Despite all the sex education we’ve managed to sneak into schools in the last 20 years or so, the ads to promote safe sex, and all of the national campaigns to make using condoms en vogue again, people still make stupid mistakes.
It’s easy, when you care about someone, to let your guard down. Both hetero- and homosexual couples do it; it’s just by coincidence that this story is about a gay one.
A close friend of mine, “Paul,” is a gay male and a budding actor and comedian. He’s a very responsible person, well-educated, nice-looking, has a high moral ground, is religious, and would give up his last dime if someone else needed it more than he did. He struggled a lot with his sexual orientation before he realized he had a supportive family that was willing to accept him just as he was meant to be.
Paul has also never been the type to sleep around — mostly because his time is so focused on his career. He’s had two long-term partners since I’ve known him and he’s recently become single again.
A few weeks ago, Paul confided in me about “Chris,” a guy he met at a friend’s party. The two began to talk on the phone, dinners soon followed, and about a week ago the two shared their first intimate evening. Paul was excited at the hope of a new budding relationship, and this guy seemed to be exactly what he was looking for.
I called Paul just last night and asked him how his new relationship was going. He suddenly sounded very sad; what he told me next could have been pulled right out of a Queer As Folk episode:
Paul and Chris, because of conflicting schedules, had gone about a week without seeing each other. When Paul saw Chris again for dinner, which was to be a prelude to a night of drinking and dancing, Chris showed up sporting a new goatee. Paul complimented his date on the new look, but upon closer examination during dinner, he noticed multiple lesions that didn’t exactly resemble acne hidden in the goatee. Paul, not wanting to embarrass his date, remained silent, but was alarmed at his discovery — he distinctly remembered Chris having a shaved and smooth chin the last time they were together.
Later, as the two were sitting together with one of Chris’ friends at a nightclub, the friend leaned across Paul and yelled above the music, “Hey, Chris, how are those warts doing?”
“Oh my god,” I said to Paul, “what did you do?”
“Elizabeth,” he almost sighed, “it was my worst fear realized. That guy deliberately said that in front of me because he wanted me to know that Chris most certainly did not have a case of acne.”
Paul is now left to wonder for the next three months what other surprises may be in store for him, and how it will affect the rest of his life. His total number of unprotected sexual encounters: One.
It’s amazing how easily any of us can fall into a false sense of security. Many of us can look back at our own personal sexual history and remember a time or two when we didn’t exactly make the smartest decisions of our lives. Myself included.
Last fall, I had a date with a gentleman I had met through a mutual friend. He was your classic GQ type, and the very picture of health. I was immediately attracted to him. We shared a wonderful dinner and at the end of the evening I was looking forward to seeing him again. I thank God every day for the honesty of this man who, at the end of dinner, disclosed to me that he had genital herpes — he was 31 years old and had contracted them while in the service when he was only 19. I have often wondered how my life would be different now if he hadn’t been so honest.
Many people believe that sex education is only for teenagers, but it keeps adults aware as well. Ad campaigns that promote safe sex and warn of the dangers remind us on a daily basis of what’s out there that can harm us. One mistake can affect you for the rest of your life, or the life of your partner — or it can take your life altogether.
My friend Paul reminded me last week that what happened to him can just as easily happen to any of us. He readily admitted he let his guard down, was too trusting, and just for one night didn’t even think about it. Sexual orientation, social class, and education level don’t matter. Anyone can be a carrier, and you may not readily see it.
This article appears in Nov 20-26, 2002.
