Almost Scared Shit of Getting HIV Infected

I found myself chatting with a roommate one afternoon at home about exciting encounters we've had recently. I immediately opened up about sharing what I did with someone who lives in a 100+-year old mansion on Richmond Road in Staten Island that was converted into several apartments, one of which is being rented out to a recently-found bed mate. His unit looks so lived in and with fascinating furnishings and glass windows that open to a view of tall trees. I added that I felt being in between being scared and being fascinated while I was in that apartment that late weekday evening.

As soon as he was hearing me describe more closely what I experienced during the scene with my new found friend, my roommate was immediately giving me almost accurate descriptions of the place. Looking worried, he was soon telling me that I should keep away from ever making it out again with that guy who he said is a criminal, as in someone who would go to expensive Manhattan restaurants to have dinner and not ever paying them. My friend added that this guy would have to hide himself among the thick foliage of mature trees that surround the said mansion one time the cops came trying to catch him. He also added that the place is known to have a few drug dealers living in some of the units. He soon followed it up by saying that the guy's HIV positive and that he gets financial assistance because of his health situation. I asked him how sure he was about his information, and he replied that he knew a personal friend who used to live with the said fellow.

Then I furtively stopped doing all the cleaning that I was engaged then while I was chatting with my roommate. I recall that I engaged in safe practices when I made it with that guy that particular night. I quickly had a barrage in mind of a long list of reminders so as to convince myself that it is not that bad as it seems to be from what I was just hearing from my well-intentioned roommate. Soon, my roommate had to chat on the phone with someone whose call came right there and then.

I was left to myself and was justifying what I've just done that particular night. I could not believe I was being so stupid. I was secretly shaking my head. And I proceeded to tell my landlord on what I just heard, thinking that it would help me get relieved somewhat. He was soon telling me about what happens to those who are promiscuous, indirectly describing me in the process. After a while, my other roommate showed up in the room and started sharing what he heard from me with our landlord. But he asked for my permission first, to which I agreed, to share it. The 3 of us were then having a heated discussion about the needs we have to fulfill to be happier in our lives, which desire does not mean endangering ourselves in the process. I convinced myself that I could barely detect a hint of hypocrisy from both of them, which I guess was due to the fact that I had been very open to them about things I do in bed whenever they ask me what I've been into lately. You know how most people are, they ask "How have you been doing these days?" There's a prime value on being honest with your roommates, being my personal policy when living with people I've not known before I came in this dwelling we all now share.

But it also occurred to me to ask my roommate to look into my new found friend's pictures online where I first saw him. My roommate agreed, and we were soon finding out that we were talking about the wrong person. My new found friend's a different one from the one my roommate had in mind. I felt instant relief. My roommate soon shared the information, too, to our landlord. My roommate proceeded to get to know more about the online site that I use for meet up purposes, among other, practical reasons why I get online to link up with people. I doubt if he'd use it as well; I know we've got different tastes when it comes to the type of people we prefer to meet up and have intimate relations with.