THE SHITS

I am eating leftovers from yesterday. A Spanish Tortilla made yesterday for 2 out of town guests, Mido and Jan- a "faerie" from Egypt who bagged himself a Dutch husband(and passport) and happily liberated himself from Allah. They had already had breakfast with my neighbor 'Butch Buddha' after surprising them in the hotel lobby.
I had kept the uneaten Tortilla for me and the BF to have- but he made himself scarce, unfindable if that's a word.
I made a date with the dutch husband today to exchange a massage, i think he expected *more. I love giving and getting massages and I, as an amateur masseur am damn good (thanks to books, understanding the body, tons of Youtube technique tips and the occasional erotic massage workshop at a faerie gathering). 1 hour.I busted a sweat and he was reaching some sort of Nirvana (the foot&*toe phase sent him to someplace he hadn't been before).
My turn (I always prefer to go after-wards because my massage can serve as a 'learning moment' for the massage partner)after i insist that they relax and take in all the calmness of my careful strategic efforts. He certainly took my masseur cues but was perhaps 70% as good. I was able to tell that , like me, he is unable to have this ritual with his husband. He seemed too into it, or me. Thank god there was no sex vibe sent from me nor acknowledged by me.
I've had another dutch massage partner (could it be a "save the cost" effort given the living cliché of the "frugal (say cheap) Dutch"?) But with R (who is also not my type per se) there is an added fragrance of acknowledged titillation...though it's remained at that level and has allowed for a nice amicable "friendship with (massage) benefits".

I am eating this Tortilla alone because i call the BF earlier to touch base and see if I can get some feedback for the food budget and list I must prepare this weekend.
Its 9pm and he's about to go to bed(??).
He says "we need to talk...not on the telephone"..."I was going to talk to you tomorrow"...
I reply "I'll come over now"
I turn off the computer. the lights. lock the door. unlock my bike. i arrive in mere minutes. I enter the apartment (look for signs of 'something' though I don't know what i am looking for). I sit on a chair rather than on the sofa next to him. I am not certain that my face reveals my unformed stress of the moment- but I am cautiously distant, as if to protect myself from any emotional outburst. I am assuming that i will be told of some long standing relationship that compromises ours and i have unfortunately received a pink-slip in the deal and should empty my desk and locker before being escorted out the door.
"I had an accident" he tells me. He looks fine, i see no bruises, his new glasses intact. "I was ashamed to tell you"..."I went to the nearest hospital and demanded they give me a PEP therapy immediately"
I was somewhat stoic after a brief relief that the imagined scenario did not unfold. I got up, sat by him then even closer and embraced him. Told him he did the right thing-but he should have called me. He'll be on these meds for a full month and feel like shit. with the repeated pronouncements of how sorry he was and how he felt ashamed I didn't feel it was my place to pardon a mixture of stupidity and ill placed shame.

A condom can bust the first time someone has sex. What I said was problematic was being promiscuous. the more promiscuous the higher the risk. There! Give me my F*cking PHD.

I fought hard not to use diplomatic language that talks around things- which made him squirm.
Latino guy. Not here but at the guys apartment. The guy is hiv poz but says his "count" is low (but for some reason the BF doesn't buy it). I wanted more details but perhaps this was enough...for now. I berated him about this situation. Is he ashamed about being horny or ashamed at how he deals with his libido. He says both. He needs some help on this- but he needs to kill any possibility of this virus having any opportunity to take root as quickly as possible. I should have clarified that he was the fucker (i took it for granted to ask) rather than the fuckee (which he has never granted to me anyway). This is not the time for me to play out my rage- if the shoe were on the other foot i would so desperately NEED understanding love and comfort. I pray that all will be well with his health and that this last minute 'save' serves its functions both physically and psychologically.
I let him know that i am not a happy person with this situation and know in relatively concrete terms that his promiscousness is not a 1-2-3 times a year thing - but rather something that explodes with obsessions and is played out in phases. It is something that I am more aware of since i let him know that some of these "fuck dates" are with people I know. I let him know that this compromises my dignity-- but I remind him that my current focus will be to make this month less painful for him and that he need not feel alone in this month of hiv emergency treatment. We havent been able to deal with our issues and shit like this happens. I don't look forward to dealing with the larger  picture after the smoke clears from this months crisis management. But we'll have to deal with this and more with or without hiv in our lives.