Serodiscordancy

Serodiscordant (sero-discordant) is a term used to describe a couple in which one partner is HIV positive and the other is HIV negative.[1] Serodiscordant relationships are also referred to as "magnetic". - wikipedia.org

To be honest, in all my years of being HIV-positive, I’d never heard of mixed-status relationships being referred to as “magnetic.” I suppose it makes sense - a magnet has both a negative and a positive charge. Just seems ironic that with magnets, those opposites attract. With HIV, more often than not, they repel.

What’s ironic is that every one of my now five relationships has been serodiscordant. That is if you consider my first one with Keith, in which I became infected with HIV, was discordant until I seroconverted. And again, other than that initial relationship, each has known of my HIV status. Well, Keith believed himself to be HIV-negative, too. As did I.

Since Keith passed away over twenty years ago, I’m using his first name here. Other names have been replaced by first/last initials in parenthesis.

I learned that my fears of being HIV positive were true two days after meeting (K.B.) in early April 1987. When I told him, thinking that I’d be shunned and cast out like Keith had been, (K.B.) promised he’d stick it out and take care of me.

So began thirteen years of co-dependency. I didn’t want to be alone when I got sick. Having seen how quickly Keith went from healthy to gravely ill, I was constantly afraid the same would happen to me. In 1987 there was still very little known about AIDS, and even less about HIV. There was only one medication to treat HIV infection - AZT - and it was too expensive if you didn’t have a health care plan that would cover the cost. Very few back then would.

Even though he knew I was HIV positive, (K.B.) refused to use protection when we had anal intercourse. He was always the active (or top) position. Because of a tear in his colon when he worked in asbestos removal years before, he could never take the passive (bottom) role. I tried repeatedly to get him to use condoms, but he refused.

Because every day was another step toward the five years - at most eight - that I was given to live, I didn’t want to push him away by denying him sex. I did, but couldn’t. As he made more decisions for “us” without listening to my opinion, I found myself drowning in our so-called partnership. Every time I said “I love you” to him, I meant it less each time.

When I reached my thirtieth birthday in August 1995, I had to take a pause. Twenty-one plus eight was less than thirty. I should have been deathly ill by now. I should have been dead, even. But I was neither. I still feared it would happen soon, but doubt began to creep in. As did my unhappiness with (K.B.)’s control of my life.

When he and I met in 1987, I was Vice President of Gay Student Services, an officially recognized student group at Texas A&M. I was President for the Summer of that year. In fact, I had calls to the group’s “Gay Line” redirected to our home phone so I could give out information to students who needed advice about coming out or other gay issues. When I had learned that Keith had AIDS and I needed to get tested, I researched the options and wrote an editorial article about the importance of testing and managed to get it published in The Battalion, the Texas A&M student newspaper.

Both those areas of activism which I’d been a part of were silenced by (K.B.). He didn’t want his coworkers or supervisors to know he was gay, so I was pulled back into the closet with him. I was not allowed to refer to him as anything other than my roommate. And I certainly couldn’t speak out on HIV/AIDS issues. His fears of violence from ignorant people in the College Station area overruled any objections I had as to how important it was to speak out and be visible. And because I was afraid of dying alone, I gave in to his demands.

I began to develop stomach issues - ulcers, acid reflux, that sort of thing. I though it was the stress from work that caused it. I was working constantly, with little to no time to use the vacation hours I was accruing. During semesters I had to deal with the day to day of computer problems within the department. Between semesters I had to get our classroom labs refreshed for the next semester as well as configure new computers for incoming faculty and wipe and refresh old computers for staff or graduate assistants. Plenty of reason to blame work.

Now, you’re probably wondering what this has to do with serodiscordant relationships. Just hush up and pay attention. I’m about to make it clear.

On February 14, 2000 our relationship came to a crashing halt. (K.B.) had slept with a coworker of his and decided that the thirteen years we’d had together was over. So much for staying with me to care for me if I got sick. Notice the “if”. I’d already begun to question whether I even would become ill.

Three weeks later I began to notice that my almost addiction to Rolaids and Tums had vanished along with my constant need for them to control my reflux and stomach issues. I then realized that all my problems had come from worrying that his refusal to wear a condom would cause him to become infected. And in the long run, my lack of interest in having sex with him caused him to turn away from me.

I learned my lesson. I was never going to date an HIV-negative man again. Or so I thought.

Six years later, and two years after moving to Austin, I met (J.M.). Okay, so it was a hookup at first. When I told him I was positive before we even met, he found it refreshing that someone could be that honest. He used to live in San Francisco where, as he put it, he felt he was the only HIV-negative man in the entire city. I’m pretty certain he’s wrong about that.

(J.M.) and I had safe sex, which was a welcome change from (K.B.). However, there were other issues outside the bedroom that made me concerned. He had a drinking problem and refused to acknowledge it for what it was. I walked away from that one, once again promising myself no more HIV negative men. And no drinkers, either.

Then in October 2007 I received an odd message on a dating site. They guy said he liked my profile and wanted to meet. I figured I’d check out his to see if it was worth wasting my time. It said he was in India. Great. Another one of these people in another country thinking they can start a relationship or a scammer hoping the get money out of me. I replied that we can’t very easily meet because of the distance.

He responded, “I’m where you are.” I asked if he meant he was in Austin and he said “Yes.” Still doubtful, I pointed out our age difference. I was 42 and he was 27. He knew that, didn’t care, and still wanted to meet. I then pulled out the HIV card. He’d seen that, it didn’t matter either, and suggested we meet downtown at Mother Egan’s. That pretty much clinched that he was in Austin. He didn’t have a photo so I asked if he could email me one. He did, so I agreed to meet.

It was a very cold, very rainy and very windy evening. (A.K.) turned out to be a nice young man, good looking, smart, funny and interesting. We talked a while, then agreed it was best to get out of the cold and wet. He was only in the U.S. for three months for training and his company had put him up in an extended stay hotel a couple of blocks away.

At first we simply messed around, nothing risky. Then one night I stayed over in his hotel room and woke with him wanting to have sex. He didn’t use a condom, though he knew I was HIV positive. While his being a top, and my viral load being undetectable, might mean there could be no transmission, I asked him to always use condoms. I made sure and got some and he did as I requested. I just didn’t want him to take risks, even slight ones, since I knew the HIV care in India was not great.

Before (A.K.) left for home, he recommended an Indian-made film to me. While Netflix had it as an option, it sat in my queue on “long wait” until after (A.K.) had already left. The film is titled “My Brother… Nikhil” and is an AIDS film. He’d seen it himself and wanted to be with me when I watched it. It was beautiful movie and I cried, not just at the story, but that (A.K.) wasn’t at my side.

Jump to February 2010. I arrived early to Oilcan Harry’s - a gay bar - for a march/rally supporting two members of a local gay softball team who’d been victims of a hate crime while walking back to their car at night. I got a glass of water at the bar, since I new we’d probably be chanting as we marched. When the bartender handed me the glass, the guy next to me asked, “Is that water?”

While it was a rhetorical question, I decided to have some fun. “No, it’s vodka. They serve it in tall glasses now - and it's FREE!” He chuckled and told the bartender that he’d have one, too. “Yes, he wants a tall glass of free vodka like mine,” I jokingly told the bartender. She laughed and brought him his water.

And so I met (M.D.). He had a very soft voice, but we talked as we both waited for them to call us out for the march. When we walked the short route, he took my hand in his. We began to grow closer to each other.

(M.D.) isn’t sure of his status. He’s done some risky things in his past, but hasn’t been tested in a while. Nothing since his last test, and it had been at least six weeks since he’d done anything unsafe before then, so I have to believe that his HIV status is negative.

In May, he went with me to the PWA Campout. PWA means “Persons with AIDS,” though it’s probably long past time to rename it HIV Campout, as modern treatments can keep a person from progressing to an AIDS diagnosis. He enjoyed himself thoroughly, despite our tent being flooded out twice.

Now, I’ve been on meds since 2003, though stopped the first treatment I was put on for personal reasons and didn’t begin a new regiment until April or May of 2004 after moving to Austin. My viral load is undetectable, meaning that it’s controlled, but not gone.

A number of research studies are now showing that if a person with HIV is currently on treatment, has had an undetectable viral load for over six months, and has no other STI, then the odds of transmitting HIV to their partner becomes almost zero. A lot of it is based on CD4 counts, too. Mine are above 500 (despite being at just 38 in 2004).

(M.D.) & I haven’t had sex yet. It’s something for us to discuss and decide for ourselves. As it should be for any two (or more) persons engaging in sexual activities. Oddly, I seem more afraid of the risk than he is. I believe those studies are accurate, but after those thirteen years with (K.B.) it’s not easy to let another choose a risk for themselves, even if (M.D.)’s would be far less of one than (K.B.)’s was.

I suppose the point of this was that you don’t have to limit yourself to another person of the same status if you both agree to being safe or to what risks you are both willing to accept. If there’s love, it’s possible that the negative partner would take more risks for that reason, while the positive partner would balk. Work it out, talk about how you both feel, and find a way to handle things.

They say opposites attract, and opposite charges of a magnet are perhaps one of the strongest attractions in existence. All in good pun of course, get your poles in alignment and enjoy life!