A little of my back story: I tested negative for HIV in 1991. So when I was diagnosed with HIV in 1992, I knew that Michael was why I had seroconverted. We were in love, but I was naive. He lied about being HIV negative, only revealing to me that he was HIV positive in 1993. He died in 1994 of AIDS-related complications.
Having grown up in New York City as the only son of Roman Catholic immigrants from Cuba, I already had plenty of personal struggles about being gay. HIV only made it that much more difficult to come out about both. I told my parents that I was gay in 1996, but I only told them this year that I was HIV positive.
It was the military that told me that I was HIV positive. I was in the Marine Corps Reserve, a weekend warrior. They had mandatory HIV testing. I was called to active duty the year before for the Gulf War, but fortunately never made it to the Middle East.
![Marine Corps logo](/legacy/poz_magazine/blogs/OriolR.GutierrezJr./1362_usmc_logo.jpg)
My commanding officer called me the week before my birthday in 1992, asking if I would volunteer on either Saturday or Sunday. I was immediately suspicious, but only because I believed it would involve much more work than what he said. Little did I know how true that was in a way, but the work would be of quite a different sort.
I asked my commanding officer if I could choose Sunday to volunteer because my birthday was on Saturday. How old, he asked. Twenty-two, I said. A good year, he replied. Sunday is fine, he said, meet me at the base at 7 a.m. sharp. Yes sir, I said.
After I told him that it was my birthday, I noticed a softness in his voice that I had never heard. He was kind enough to let me have one more birthday in ignorant bliss.
I arrived on time, but the base was empty. I was greeted by my superior enlisted officer. He escorted me to the office of my commanding officer. I saluted him and then was quickly told to sit. He informed me that I was HIV positive by reading from a script.
My superior enlisted officer escorted me out of the office. Tell your girlfriend and any other women you?ve been with, he said. What women, I thought. Yes sir, I said.
My birthdays had always been tinged with sadness. After my birthdays the summer would be over and school would begin. Every birthday was now followed by a new birth date, born into the world of HIV and dead to the world of the healthy. Or so I thought.
I?ve since realized that being HIV positive gives me even more reason to rejoice in being a year older. Being alive for one more year is an accomplishment. Being alive despite the best intentions of HIV to the contrary, however, is a cause for celebration.
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