In April 2017, I returned home to NYC, feeling sorrowful and regretful. I had tested positive for HIV when I tried to trial PrEP, which was the worst nightmare for me. At a happier time with my partner Con, I had wished we didn’t need protection to show him how genuine I was towards him. Thus, I suggested going on PrEP in 2014, but Con disagreed, citing possible side effects and liver damage. Looking back, I wish I was HIV-positive back then to have that in common with him. But be careful what you wish for; I was okay living a celibate life with my 10-year boyfriend, whom I cheated on with Con. I had sex with Con about 10 times from 2014-2015 and received confirmation from my other two acquaintances for being negative. In other words, Con had passed his virus to me. When I told him that “I may have caught it from him,” he accused me of not being truthful, even though he knew and had proof of me being promiscuous. He had nothing to do with my infection, and I told him because I wanted him to know. I was an adult, I was in love, and we played unprotected at times. I am the one to blame.

Con treated me horribly, and I had always been nice, generous, and willing to help him. But he was far from being a good person. I began to realize that the Con I fell for would never come back. Meth and sex had taken over his conscience. When it was time to pay his agreed monthly payment, he attempted five payments, all of which were at least four to sixteen days late. Even though I called or messaged him to remind him a few days before the due date, they were all short, ranging from half to three-quarters short on payments.

The more I helped him, the smaller he made me feel, and he knew exactly how to keep me around. He treated me as if I didn’t deserve any respect or gratitude, censuring my personality and dismissing all my suspicions so that he could be guilt-free to have chem-sex with everyone on week-long binges. He was able to keep me around to be his on-demand ego booster, gift-giver, and bagel-delivery boy. He had no intention of being with me since 2015; he just played along until he couldn’t maximize his benefit and then cut me off, claiming he hated me for being me. Con’s actions over the last 16 weeks were diminishing, degrading, and plainly insulting. Perhaps the drugs influenced him, and he was busy dating his new ex-fiancé whom he met through chem-sex. He was unsuccessful in his career, but he managed to bring me down every single time, giving me minimal attention. His ego had to find the weak links to step on to elevate himself from his low self-esteem, which was constantly low. His message was very clear: it was my duty, honor, and pleasure to help, it was never a big deal, and my job was done. I should disappear with white meth smoke.

Con never felt comfortable asking for financial help. He had no one to turn to except me. I asked him why he didn’t ask his French brat partner, whom he often bad-mouthed while they worked on freelance projects together, for help. He shrugged and said that it was his face. His ego’s reaction was to terrorize me about my loans, self-worth, hard-earned savings, generosity, and kindness. I suspected that, aside from the influence of drugs, he distanced himself from me because he had to borrow from me. He had no choice, and the minute his ego felt inferior to mine, it was like a bucket of ice thrown onto an erection — sex no more. I knew this all along, and I had been telling him that lending him money was a way to help him, and he could still remain in the driver’s seat. But that was not enough; his ego had to spin all the criticisms to make me feel less than dust to retaliate. The betrayal, the shut-off, all the lies and manipulation, and, most of all, the denial of my hope for one full night with him were like a series of bomb explosions in my brain and heart. When I found out all the details from his ex-fiancé on all the matters, it was like a soap opera that shocked me to the core.

By the time I got my HIV result, I was already so numb that it was just like, “Wow, this could not be more dramatic… a grand finale putting a cherry on my sundae disaster.” The nurse asked me if I was okay and if I would consider suicide. I told him, “Nah, but if you asked me 30 days prior, I would have said yes, I wanted to die.”

I told Con straight up that he had become a bad person. I am sure it was his meth-high deflective talk, and he fired back at me, “Who the hell are you to judge if I am a good person or not?” I thought about it for a second and answered, “I can because I sold stocks and IRA to help you when you claimed you were starving and had no money to live. Since then, you have lessened my existence and my helping effort. Moreover, you belittle me to be someone you could just never see again! You are beyond a bad person, and mixing with drugs makes you evil!”

Loans are indebted to be paid back, come hell or high water. One way or another, he has to settle the hard-earned money he stole from me. I do not know where he lives now or where he works, whether he is still into chem-sex. The last thing I heard about him was that he had many open, unhealed wounds on his limbs, which I suspected were meth-mites. And at his illegal commercial-converted residential apartment, he hid a few nano-cameras set up to stream or record live sex act videos with his acquaintances without their consent. Maybe he could turn a profit doing so. But I cannot care about this monster anymore.

After nine long, painful, weepy, unproductive months, I finally decided to publish my story, thanks to many of my listeners who were willing to put up with my sob story. And thank you for reading to this point. I hope it could serve as the beginning of closure. A closure that Con had never even bothered to offer. His ego wanted to destroy me, which it almost succeeded in doing. His ego wanted someone to be always beneath him, to be enslaved in his palm, under his spell, never to arise again. When he saw his house of cards falling apart in March 2017, he decided to retract, deflect, show down the logic, be accusatory counterpoising the truth by abortion and yelled at me for unrelated events. He always told me I act like a child. Funnily, it’s such a Freud classic deflection. Only a toddler would throw a tantrum for no reason in order to hide behind his mistakes. And a toddler always selfishly does what he does without caring for other’s feelings. It is important to understand that catching HIV is not solely reserved for those who engage in promiscuous behavior. Despite having had sex only a few times with a small number of people, I still contracted the virus. It is possible that I simply had bad luck, or my naivety may have played a role. It’s important to remember that HIV can affect anyone, regardless of their sexual history or lifestyle.

I don’t intend to discourage anyone from associating with this individual, as everyone must learn their own lessons. However, I do have a story to share that has greatly impacted my life. Some may perceive my decision to share this story as harsh, but I believe it’s important to speak the truth. The individual in question had already tarnished their own reputation through their actions. I’m simply sharing my experience and the impact it has had on me.

Like many victims of sexual assault or abuse, I didn’t want to be seen as a victim. I simply wanted to move on and find happiness. I attempted to reach out to this individual and discuss what had happened, but my attempts were met with silence. It appears that he has moved on to other targets who may be more vulnerable, and I fear for their safety.

Through this experience, I’ve learned that forgiveness doesn’t always lead to reconciliation. It’s important to carefully consider who you give your time, energy, and resources to. While helping others is important, it should be done without expecting anything in return. Unfortunately, there are individuals in this world who are willing to manipulate and exploit others for their own gain, and it’s crucial to be aware of this fact.

Despite the challenges I’ve faced since contracting HIV, I remain hopeful and determined to move forward. I’ve come to accept that this will be a part of my life moving forward, and I’m taking steps to ensure that I remain healthy and happy. I hope that my story will serve as a cautionary tale to others and help prevent similar situations from occurring in the future.

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