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A Decade With My House in Virginia

The not-so-funniest April Fools joke happened to me ten years ago. April 1st, 2013, was the day my doctor called to confirm my blood work from the week before: you’re positive! As devastating as it was to hear as a young twenty-something, I was lucky enough to have a GBFF to share the experience with. In fact, he’s the one who got me to get tested in the first place. We’ll just call him Robby. Robby and I met when we were in college. The first time we met, Robby was supposed to give me some head and go; typical Grindr date. Turns out, the kid couldn’t give a bj to save his life, and I felt compelled to tell him. Long story short, we laughed it off and became best friends. And we were slutty little gaybies, if I may say so. We often had contests to see who could bone someone first.

Anyways, that’s a story for another issue. Point is, Robby had just started getting serious with a new guy, whose name is also Robby. He wanted to get tested so that they could start raw dogging. I remember it being a weeknight when Robby called me in hysterics. I couldn’t quite tell what he was saying. But I heard. I heard clearly: he was positive. My best friend was positive. My heart sank and I couldn’t talk. I comforted him as best I could, but I had a pit in my stomach. I knew that if he had it, then I had it. We shared randos back and forth practically all summer that year.

After a few days of building up the courage, I finally made an appointment to get tested at my doctor’s office. I likely wouldn’t have gone for the test had it not been for Robby’s shocking revelation. But in the end, as messed up as this might sound, it was having a best friend going through the same trauma as me that helped get through the initial shock of it all. We were able to comfort each other and get each other through a rough period. It was early in our diagnosis that we decided to start referring to the virus as our House In Virginia. It allowed us to continue to talk openly about our situation without always having to say those three dreaded letters.