DISCORDANT...
BUT NOT ABOUT HIV
SEX AND THE SUBURBS
I’ve come to a shocking realisation that I’m in a discordant
relationship. My partner Paul is a Private Eye-reading, compulsively-tidying,
money-motivated Tory, while I’m happier curled up with a copy of Hello,
wallowing in mess, singing a medley of Billy Bragg’s greatest hits.
The fact that I am living with HIV and he is not, therefore rendering us a
‘sero-discordant couple’, quite frankly pales to insignificance.
The notion of sero-discordancy makes me feel itchy. It’s a term that
seems to place extraordinary emphasis on HIV status, dehumanising the individuals
involved. Should the fact one of the partners happened to catch the nasty
bug and the other didn’t, really define the relationship? Is there a
subliminal message: that this type of relationship will be more problematic
than one where you “stick to your own kind” of HIV status?
I’ve only been in one relationship where we were both HIV positive.
It was, unquestionably, the biggest disaster in my chequered relationship
history. It soon became apparent, all we had in common was the same strain
of the virus, in addition to a voracious mutual loathing. There was no sense
of empathy or support in going through the same crisis, only bitter antagonism
and distrust. He did sweetly suggest one day that no man would now want me
as I was HIV positive, so it would be preferable to stay together. I could
not concur, assured that it would be preferable to have my clitoris cut off
with blunt nail scissors than to stay with a man I detested.
Paul is different. At the start of our relationship I confess I was fearful
my HIV status would be problematic. I assumed there would be no future and
didn’t see any point in disclosing my status, choosing instead to use
him as a sex toy/arm candy (he is an extraordinarily good shag and bloody
cute too - unusual in a man).
Two months later I found myself suffering from the heinous ailment of being
in love; realised I fancied a long-term future with him and felt the need
to tell him I was HIV positive. I classily chose to disclose in a McDonalds
car park; the rationale being that if he chucked me I would console myself
with a Big Mac, which is equal, if not superior, to a man. I needn’t
have worried. He was somewhat under-whelmed by my disclosure, initially believing
my earth shattering secret was that I used to be a man (perhaps my colossal
cock was a give away). He chose to find out a bit more about the virus, but
now rarely gives it a thought.
I suppose the only time when HIV becomes an issue is when it comes to sex.
We do endeavour always to use condoms, but the fact that I am eight months
pregnant is a give away that we are not always 100 per cent successful (unless
of course you choose to believe my suggestion that I became pregnant from
a toilet seat, the same way I contracted HIV). I sometimes wish he were a
little more conscious of my health status, particularly if it meant he would
cut me some slack where it came to me being a lazy slovenly slattern. I’m
not well, after-all (piteous cough).
Many of my friends are also in so called ‘sero-discordant’ relationships.
When we bitch about our partners, it’s never about the problems caused
by them not being HIV positive, but a myriad of issues found in most relationships:
moodiness, lack of quality time, not enough sex. I have a number of gay friends
living with HIV who have had relationships with their HIV negative partner
longer than both of my marriages put together.
Despite the fact that he is an avaricious Tory and taken to wearing shirt
and jumper combos reminiscent of Norman Lamont, I continue to be giddily in
love with Paul. I still like to watch him sleep, in awe of his still beauty.
I love the smell of his skin, the sound of his voice, the security and peace
of falling asleep with his arms around me. Okay, okay, it makes me want to
chuck too. I know it’s not attractive sounding like a 17-year-old, when
in reality you’re hurtling towards menopause, but I have a bit of a
thing for this bloke. I suppose I can try to get over the grim reality he’s
not living with HIV. No-one’s perfect.
