Eez Positive I Positive! I No Kill Person! (Episode 6)

Y’all remember Eddie, right? That ex from my last and shortest-lived relationship? (PS: Does that even qualify to be called a relationship? One month? Does it? Plis, epp me with an answer, dears.) Well, we reconnected last year. He’s still a brat, still endearingly cute, and still a huge pest. And, from the way he was carrying on with me, still into me.

I, on the other hand, was still reeling from his betrayal of me. (Plis, do not, under any circumstances, tell me I betrayed him too. My stupid brain is doing more than enough of that. It’s hard enough ignoring my brain. If you add your own, thunder wee faya you for 600 years. Amen!) I’m honest and smart enough to know that some part of me still loves him, still longs for what could have been but never was.

Several days ago, he sent me an audio tape. It was a demo, a short piece which he composed and sang. Bobo wanted me to critique it (like that’s all I’m good for), and tell him how to get better at his craft. We ended up having a very long conversation that shifted from his music to his studies, to his life, to his feelings. When we’d exhausted his matter, we shifted to me. And, despite my intense aversion for letting people know a lot of details about me, I found myself telling him everything. Well, almost everything. (The boy sha has my mumu button, I no go lie.)

Just as I was about to cut the call, he said he misses me. I didn’t want to lie or act tough, not after baring the whole of my innermost chest to him, so I told him the truth. That I miss him too. We ended the call shortly after that and I looked at myself in the mirror and I said, “May falling for unavailable men not kill you in this life, you this mumu boy!”

We’ve been talking since then, almost every day. And every one of our conversations quickly turns mushy, the kind of mushy that I swore I would never become. (Hei, Lord God Beyoncé! See what lack of penising has done to Our Lady’s son! *crying emoji*) During our conversation two nights ago, he told me that he’d noticed that I’m not as withdrawn as I was when we dated, that something about me is freer.

That was when I knew I had to tell him. It’d make it easier for you to finally let go and get over him, I reasoned, when he tells you he can’t be with you because you’re poz. And, hey, like I said, he likes a good story. So, I used that.

I started by reminding him of the conversation we had, how he responded to the question of anyone dating a HIV positive person, his vehement rejection of the idea of him dating a positive person and how he’d changed the subject once he was done talking. He said he could remember the incident. And he’d started chuckling about what he no doubt thought was me being petulant –

When I told him I am poz.

His entire demeanour changed. I could hear him almost crying. I quickly told him not to feel bad about it or sorry for me. And that I knew I was wrong to not have told him at first, but that his reaction proved me right. He just wasn’t ready to handle that kind of information.

Well, long story short, he kept apologising and it’s been frequent calls from him since then. It’s either he’s asking if I’ve eaten, or if I’ve taken my drugs, or how I’m feeling, or how my day went, or something like that.

I’m a little bit worried about the speed with which he’s moving. But, I’m at the spot where I really can’t be stressed. If he asks me out again, I don’t know what my answer will be. The only thing I’m glad about is the fact that we’ve cleared the air between us. The next move is his to make. At least, now he has all the information he needs to make a decision. And I can go back to telling those mocking voices in my head, “Ntooooorrrrr!”

After all, eez positive I positive. I nor kill person!

Written by Mitch