So one constant through our relationship was the skewed level of support, encouragement, and understanding. It was the boy's belief that I needed to be there at his beck and call. He was in constant need of attention and if I didn't jump immediately all hell broke loose. Now a lot of these emergencies I started to realize were not emergencies at all, but more along the lines of a test of my love. So then I had to figure out which was a real call for help, and which was a test of commitment.

On the other hand, if I needed emotional support I would have been better off flagging down a stranger on the street. Anytime I needed ANYTHING, minus 1 instance, I was self absorbed. Let me clarify something, I never felt that just because I did something I deserved something in return. And while all of this was happening none of this even crossed my mind, but now that I can stand back and look at the situation it is interesting to see the lack of compassion he had for me.

Now, a lot of the boys supposed lack of pity towards others comes from his past. Which I tried to explain to him on numerous occasions was not a fair way to look at things. Anytime there was someone who was hurt or some great tragedy had fallen on a person, be it someone we knew, myself, or in the news, his response was always the same. He would site that he had been homeless, addicted to heron, no money for food, no one he could trust. He was the one that deserved restitution, he was more badly hurt than anyone. Yet what he would fail to see was that he put himself into those situations. Every tragedy that befell him was in fact because of his own choices. He chose to use heron, which then resulted in homelessness. People lacking in trust in him was a result of his constant lying and manipulations. A person who just lost their home and everything they own because a fire ripped through miles of land deserves some compassion, they didn't start the fire, they where victims.

That being said he would then do things that would surprise me. If he saw someone on the street that was homeless he would buy them food. If a friend needed money or something he would offer it. I think if he could relate to the pain he would offer support, otherwise you were on your own.

So, that being said when I found out about my hiv status you would think that he would have taken me in his arms, held me tight as to protect me from the world. Instead he wanted to go to a crowded restaurant, sit on the street and sit elbow to elbow with the other patrons. I look back now and can't believe that day. All I wanted was for him to take me home and hold me, thats all. I didn't want it to be a big deal, I didn't even want to talk about it, I just wanted him to hold me and tell me it was going to be ok. Of course anytime I tried to hug him for longer than 5 seconds I would get pushed away so I don't know why this situation should have been any different.

The other issue I was going to have to face eventually was how I got it. I knew, but I also knew I could never tell him. This was such a slippery slope I was on. If I told him the truth, he would blame himself and it would have ended our relationship because he wouldn't have been able to look at me. If I lied I was then going to look like I was cheating on him, which I wasn't. None of this really mattered though, he broke up with me the next day. He couldn't handle it anymore.

Crushed and alone I sat in my apartment wondering how and why he would do this to me. I felt so used, so alone, and borderline suicidal. A few days later we talk and get back together. Although the pain and betrayal of being left alone when I truly needed him would always be there.

I then received a phone call from my boss, he needed me in the corporate office on Friday. He had known about all my Doctors appointments and that I had been very sick the last few months, but he didn't know what the diagnosis was. So Friday came and I headed to the office, which was a good hour and a half from my apartment. When I got there he said we had to go see Dyan. Dyan was the reason I had that job. When we all lost our jobs due to the merger, she told me she wanted me to come with her and created my position.

As we walked towards her office I joking said to my boss, "am I in trouble?" He responded "oh no, she just needs to talk to us." Well, I walked in, said hello, the door closed behind me and she said "I'm sorry but we have to cut 96 positions and yours is one of them." I was speechless. Alright, 5 days ago I found out I was HIV +, now I am being told I am unemployed. Everything that happened after she said that is kind of a blur, I just wanted to get out of there.

Once in my car I called the boy, burst into tears, and told him what had happened. He said come get me right now. I told him I needed to go home first, I needed to clear my head, I needed to get signed up for unemployment ASAP, and then I would pick him up. He said that was fine. It took me 2 hours to drive home, once there I started filling out my unemployment papers, in the middle of this the boy called but I left it go to voicemail so I could finish what I was working on. He left a message. I dialed my code to listen. He couldn't keep doing this, he didn't want to talk to me, he didn't want to see me, he was over it. Again I sat there, totally confused to what I had done that was to much to handle. Alone again, in pain, scared, lost. In one week I found out I was Hiv+, was laid off at work and had my boyfriend leave me with no explanations. Looking back I guess I can understand, I mean I had 2 major life changing events happen days apart, how selfish could I be? And then to want my boyfriend to hold me and nothing more, I was being a bit demanding.

Seriously though, through out our relationship I never had a problem with him being the center of attention. I had no problem with helping him with his problems no matter how big or small. In 3 years I have had 4 events that happened where I truly needed him to be there, he was there for 1 of them eventually. And my biggest concern during all of this, that he doesn't figure out he got me sick.

So it was December, I had been working non stop for the last 2 months. I would put in no less than 13 hours a day 6 days a week. I was exhausted. I ended up getting the flu right at the time I was to move one of my stores to a new location. The process was to take 2 days and consisted of moving EVERYTHING from out current location in the mall to the new one. The first night is when the flu started to hit me. I knew I needed to be in bed but there was no way I would be able to call out for at least a week. So I worked, and come 2 am thought I wouldn't be able to make it to my car let alone drive home, and be back at the store by 8 am. I was right, I didn't even wake up until 10, oh well, if they want to get mad at me for being sick and working countless hours of overtime on top of it, so be it.

I arrived at the store around noon, everything that happened that night will have to be the subject of another blog because it is absolutely the most fucked up work experiences I have ever had. At 4 am I literally collapsed in the back of the store. I had a fever of 103 and could barely move. The store manager, who was the most professional and talented person at that company told me to go home. She had been telling me to go home sense the first night but this was the first time I was going to listen to her.

I went up to her boss who was a District Director for the company, told he I wasn't able to work anymore and I need to go home. She looked up at me and said "Really? Didn't you get here at noon?" I was dumbfounded. "Yes, I got here at noon which was 16 hours ago, I'm sick and can barely move I'm leaving." She made some bitchy comment as I turned to leave. Fuck her I thought, I don't report to her she can kiss my ass. Any good manager in that situation would have thanked me for coming in and staying as long as I did, even if I wasn't ill. Not her, she was the most back stabbing, unprofessional and clueless person I have ever worked with. I fucking hated her.

The boy always got mad at me for letting her treat me the way she did, but thats the nature of retail. He already had no sympathy for my current illness because he felt I wasn't doing anything to get better by putting in the hours I was at work. Not that I expected him to take care of me, but he never offered to come over, he never asked if he could do anything for me, nothing. The truth is, I would never have asked him to do anything, but the offer would have meant the world to me. If he would have shown up on my doorstep with chicken soup and ginger ale I would have burst into tears. Instead he felt the need to remind me it was all my fault, he had no sympathy for me and if I needed anything that I should drive over to his place. With that I proceeded to sleep for 2 days straight.

When I did finally wake up I felt a lot better, except for a pounding headache. I figured the headache was caused by sleeping for so long. Any time I oversleep I always get a headache. Although they normally don't last 3 weeks. I was popping so many pills its amazing i didn't OD. I would have to take around 6 Excedrin every 4 hours, and I did this for weeks. So I broke down and made an appointment with my doctor.

So I went in the following day, met with my Doctor and explained the situation. He said he would need to have more tests done but it could be a brian tumor but doubtful, more likely it was a sexually transmitted disease. He also wanted to know when the last HIV test i had was because there was a strong possibility that was the problem. So the took my blood and some more and some more, until they had filled 10 vials. They scheduled me to have an MRI and to see a cancer specialist. I was supposed to return once i had the results from MRI and had met with the other Doctor.

Before I could even get the MRI my doctor had left a message that I needed to come in. I knew why already. I told the boy I needed to go back for test results, he told me to call as soon as I left. So I went in, met with the doctor and heard what I had been hearing in my head the last 4 days come to life. "You're test came back positive for HIV" He then offered me a box of tissues and told me I could take a minute but not to worry it wasn't a death sentence. After that all I really heard was blah blah blah, my mind refused to put the words together for me anymore.

So I left, I called the boy, he told me t to pick him up he would leave work. So I did, we went to lunch, had an awkward time, not knowing how to deal with it and he went back to work. I went home, he broke up with me the next day.

Inl my posts I really haven't touched on the sex. I guess I haven't mentioned it really because it was incredible. I have never felt more comfortable or free as I did with the boy. Even the very first night we fucked I was completely at ease, even when in the middle he told me he was HIV + and needed to get a condom.

I know all I have really been doing is pointing out flaws or negatives about the boy, the fact is though, when we were naked and in the heat of the moment, none of that mattered. I can also say with much certainty that the boy felt the same way.

There where however, a couple instances that brought the passion to a dead halt. The first time the condom broke being the first. Every time we had sex the boy would go into the bathroom after and make sure the condom was intact. Honestly, I never really thought much about it. I mean, you hear about condoms breaking but I always thought that was more a fear tactic parents told their children to prevent them from having sex too early.

Well, the first time it happened to us I thought the boy was going to jump off my balcony. He came out of the bathroom white as a ghost, looked at me and said, "we have a problem. The condom broke." I looked at him, could tell he was beyond upset and told him, "it's ok, come back to bed." He insisted I listen to him, and repeated the severity of the situation. I told him I knew what I was getting into, it was my decision to make and i knew the risks. That wasn't working for him, he would never forgive himself if he got me sick. I calmly told him he hadn't, I don't know how to explain the inner workings of my ass, but i knew he hadn't cum in it. I was almost certain the condom broke upon exit. I looked at him and said please just come back to bed, I love you and it will be ok.

I think I eventually got him to calm down enough to get back into bed, although I know he didn't sleep a wink that night. In the morning things were still tense, I started to worry the boy was going to be to scared to ever touch me again. I had to go to work, I told him he should call his friend in New Jersey and talk to him about what happened. His friend in New Jersey is probably the only friend he has that I trust to give him good logical advice. All his other friends are these pseudo therapist wannabes that roll out the advice like some magic 8 ball.

After a few weeks things went back to normal and he started to relax about the whole condom thing, Now, the next event that rocked our relationship, I recently found out by my Best Friend I was the one that was wrong. Yes, the boy didn't do anything this time it was all me. You see, the boy and I would very often take part in substances of the illegal sort now and then, and more often than naught one of these substances would knock you the fuck out if too much was taken.

The night in question is one of the nights too much "G" had been taken. I can remember that night like it was yesterday. We had taken our doses, the boy then wanted to take a shower. When he came out he asked if I could feel the "G", I was totally rolling and told him so. Well, he decided he needed more, which he took and then got into the bed with me. We were making out and then I started to give him a blow job. I looked up at him and I could tell if I wasn't careful he was going to pass out on me. So I jumped up and grabbed a condom, put it on his dick and took charge so to speak. The next thing that happened is still a little strange to me. I remember he kept passing out and I kept doing things to snap him back. I finally gave up, but I didn't get off his dick right away. I was just looking at him and thinking, no matter what our issues are I really do love this moron. Then it happened, I don't know if I was still moving around, or the boy was having an erotic dream, but I felt his dick start throbbing and then a warm rush shot into my ass. I got up and realized not only had the condom broken it was basically just a rubber ring at the base of his cock at this point. Which I took off of him and flushed immediately.

This was not good I thought to myself. The first time it had happened I knew he hadn't cum in my ass. This time he let it all out. I went into the bathroom and did the only thing I could think of, douched. I cleaned myself up and got back into bed. I never told him that happened. The next morning he apologized for passing out on me, I didn't even mention what had happened. I never did. Now here's the thing. That was around 4 or 5 months before I found out I was HIV+. That story I will get to, but I can say with 98% certainty that was the night I got it.

I could never EVER tell him.

This is why my friend got mad at me. I tried to explain to him I would rather have the boy think I cheated and got it that way than have him blame himself the rest of his life. I could never put that on his shoulders and I never wanted him to feel responsible for it. My friend thinks I was completely wrong, that the boy should know and it wasn't my right to keep it from him. My friend was in a 4 year relationship with someone who was HIV+, while my friend was and is not. So he has every right to tell me I was wrong, and maybe I am. But if you had the option to tell the person you love that they where the cause of something horrible in your life or blame it on someone else what would you do? I wanted to protect him from himself, I know how he would react. He already told me if he found out who I got it from he would track them down and kill them. Sadly I thought to myself, you don't have very far to go.

First, sorry for the gap in blogs, my life got a little crazy and I had to move. So now I am in my new digs and ready to pick up where I left off.

So for awhile things were good, uneventful. We would have our arguments, our breaks ups, our get back together moments. All during this time I suppressed this feeling like he was being untruthful and really didn't like me, I just made his life easier. He didn't have a car so I would take him where ever he needed to go, I was never asked if I had anything I needed to get done or if I could. On top of that, once I finished running him all around Los Angeles if I showed up 30 minutes late(just to stay at his apartment) he would be pissed at me. It just felt like no matter what I did, it was wrong.

I also started to see a pattern to our fights. It seemed like anytime he wanted to go out with or fuck another guy he would pick a fight with me in order to break up for a few days in order to do it. I guess that way it wasn't cheating. So I figured, fine, he wants to break up with me and fuck around I might as well too.

The one thing about our fights that frustrated the hell out of me was that, if we had a fight at my place he would demand I drive him home. So I would, all during the ride I would have to sit and listen to what a horrible person I was, I was worthless, selfish, no one would ever love me, I was a complete loser. Now, if we had a fight at his place and I wanted to go back to my apartment I was abandoning him, walking out without resolving anything. How is it he can leave and it's ok, but when I do the same thing it's abandonment. A perfect example of I could do nothing right.

The other reason I felt like he didn't love me was because I would have to pay for EVERYTHING. It didn't matter what it was, it could have been dinner, a magazine, groceries or cigarettes for him. If I wasn't able to his entire demeanor would change. I hated it, the thing is I love buying things for people. I love surprising them with stupid little things all the time, he didn't want any of that, he just wanted me to drive him to where he wanted to be and supply the funds for him to get whatever he wanted.

Then something changed. He would go shopping alone and come back with really expensive things, things I could never afford. Like a $1500 Lanvin Jacket, or $500 Gucci pants, all designer, all expensive. He would then still want me to pay for everything. I really started resenting this and started to refuse. He didn't understand why I was having such a problem with his poverty, a poverty I saw as being self inflicted.

Then one morning I get a phone call, he had been arrested and needed to be bailed out. I was pissed, I was even more pissed when I found out the bail was over $20,000. I didn't know what to do, so I went online and looked up bail bonds. I called one and they asked me what the charges where, I didn't know just that the bail was around $22,000. They told me they would call the jail and then get back to me with what was going on. So I waited. They called me back and told me that he had been arrested for shoplifting, procession of drugs, procession of drug paraphernalia and another charge I can't remember.

Now for anyone who has never had the wonderful experience of bailing someone out of jail, you put up the money which you will get back as long as the person appears in court. The fee for this is generally 10% of the bail. So I needed to come up with $2200 in order to get him out. While trying to figure out how I was going to pay for this, the lady at the bonds office asked me how well I knew the person and what our relationship was, I told her I had known him for a little over a year and we where friends. She then told me that I really needed to think about what I was doing. That when the bail is that high normally only family members post it. That if I posted it I better be sure that he was I person I trusted. That was all fine, but I really had no choice in the matter. I couldn't let him sit there regardless of my lack of trust. So I put $1000 on my AMEX, $1000 on another credit card and the remainder of another. I didn't know how I was going to be paying my rent that month but he assured me he had the money at his apartment. He didn't, he just told me that because he was afraid I wouldn't bail him out.

Oh, and the reason why he ended up in jail to begin with, trying to steal a $3500 bag from Barney's. So everything I was getting so upset for him buying, turns out was stolen. I was still upset, just for a completely different reason now. There are certain illegal activities that I can tolerate, stealing is not one of them, It's a pitiful crime. Plus, he not only was stealing, he was lying to me about it. Now all those feelings I had been trying so hard to suppress where getting harder to ignore.

I didn't know how to feel as I drove over to see him. I mean, how does one feel when the person who just beat the shit out of them a couple months prior tells you they have 3 months to live. It was one of those instances that opens the flood gates to your heart. I had blocked out everything that had happened (because that is what I do best) now, I was going to have to deal with it. Was I prepared for this? Guess I would find out soon enough.

Once there I called so he could come let me in. I'm not sure what I expected to happen, but when i saw him coming towards the door I knew it wasn't going to be bad. He had lost so much weight, his head was shaved which didn't help his overall appearance, he looked like a cancer victim to be perfectly honest. He opened the door, smiled and thanked me for coming over.

Once in his apartment I asked, "so what did your Doctor tell you?" His response was "It doesn't matter, I don't want to talk about that right now." OK I thought, well why am I here if you don't want to talk about it.

There was then that idle conversation that people have when they are trying to avoid really talking to each other. After we covered all the basics, and still not knowing why I was there I said "OK, well I guess I should be going." The boy told me not to go, he wanted to apologize. He felt so bad about what he had done, he didn't know why he had done it. He said he hadn't been taking his medication and he thinks that is what caused such a violent reaction. Now he didn't tell me what medication that was, I only knew of the methadone and I knew he hadn't stopped that. He said he was so sorry and to please give him another chance. I was speechless. I didn't know what to say, how to react I just sat there dumbfounded.

He went on to tell me that he had gotten really sick after we broke up and ended up in the hospital, that is why he had lost all the weight. I told him that he didn't look bad, and I then told him I needed time to think. So much had happened, yes I was falling in love with him, but that was before he decided to beat me senseless. He said he understood, and with that I left.

A few days had passed and work had gotten totally out of control. I was working round the clock and starting to get sick. I hadn't called the boy back, I still wasn't sure how I felt about the whole situation. He had called me the night before but by the time I got home it was all I could do to get through the door without passing out. Not wanting to leave the boy wondering what was going on I sent him the following email:

"Sorry I never called you back the other night, I have been a bit under the weather. The Flu to be exact, and it kind of kicked my ass.  I guess all those 10 hour work days caught up with me.  Starting to feel better now.  Anyway, I have been thinking of about the other night for a while, well, pretty much everyday sense the other night to be honest.  The thing I don't understand is why you called me.  I mean, I told you, and I meant it, that if you ever needed anything I would be there.  Although our last "date" almost made me take that one back, but I didn't/wouldn't.  So..... why did you call me?  Truthfully.  I mean, it's not like our relationship was that stable.  Don't get me wrong, when it was good.....WOW was it good, but when it was bad...... yeah.....
And I'm not sure if the good (as much as I miss the good. Damn.) is worth living through the bad.  I fucking hate it. I wish I could change it, but I bring something out in you that probably isn't a good thing.  You don't even know what happened after I left you that night.  I mean, the next morning at 8am I had to fly to Vegas, bloody, black eye, dislocated jaw, scratches, you name it.  I couldn't eat anything for 2 weeks besides smoothes and soft food.  I could barely open my mouth.  The physical pain wasn't nearly as bad as the embarrassment of meeting all those new people completely beat up.  So, I need to know.  Why did you call me?  Please be honest. Please reply. I obviously have given you the benefit of the doubt, but I need to know.  I hope you are doing better, and by the way, you didn't look bad when I saw you. I wish the past could be erased, I really did love holding you."

I meant every word. When things were good between us, my god, I never wanted him to be anywhere but by my side. When they were bad, well, we all see what happens when they are bad.