BLIND TO THE BULLSH*T: WAKING THE HELL UP

My heart stopped. Momentarily.

The nurse reached deep into her manila file folder and pulled out a white sheet of paper. After handing me two gold wrapped condoms, she read off my results.

I was blind to the bullsh*t.

Over these past two years since the text that shook the shit out of my world, I’ve blamed everyone for the mess I got myself into. I blamed him for luring me in like a pimp does his next hoe. But, I allowed him to put me at risk. I laid by the wayside all I ever knew about life for a bootleg copy of love that was scratched just at the point the movie got good. I did this to myself.

I was asked recently why I was writing this series. What was the purpose if I was over this guy and had moved on, as I had made my friends believe? But I hadn’t.

I was very much still affected by my only identity-affirming relationship. I had dug my own grave, laid in it, too many times to count, and attempted to climb my way out each day that I woke. Along with the dirt that would begin to suffocate me, emotional scarring, a damaged self-image and a trust for no one came pouring down like the great flood. Using the excuse that I had no time for a boo thang because I was trying to change the world, I was lying to myself and those around me.

I woke up from what I thought was a hunky-dory recovery after seeing many of the baby gays under my grandma-like eye engage with every Tyrone, Robert and Marquan from the app which must not be named. Late night visits from various suitors, taking the MARTA to meet God knows who and bragging about it like a child during show and tell, they thought that was the life to live. In their eyes, they were invincible to the world of STDs, HIV, LMNOP and everything else known to man. They were infatuated with the idea of belonging to the glamorous, yet risky culture that being black and gay in Atlanta has come to be known as.  The possibility of love, like and ravenous sex with the trade from across the street became all they cared about. I saw signs of my fall and decline in their activities.

Not on my watch.

And so, for them, and every other gay and/or same gender loving being like them, use my narrative as one of caution. Take with you my thoughts on how to avoid being blind to his shit, yo’ shit and all the bullshit:

Remember your worth – Your perception of self is all you have in this world of foolishness and malarkey. In delving into any relationship, whether many of casual sex or one more serious, only do so after knowing who you are and what you have to offer this world besides sickening peen or cakes for days. You are more than the sexualization of your body by the male gaze. “You is smart. You is kind. You is important.”

Don’t be silly, wrap your (and/or his) willy – Your health should be a top concern. Don’t allow anyone the opportunity to decide your fate for you. Not only should you talk candidly about you and your partner’s sexual history, talk candidly about protective measures. For those still into hooking up, always remember that you carry your own helmet into war; why have it any different in the bedroom? No one can protect you better than you.

He who busts first, busts – It is just fine to take your time getting to know someone before doing so sexually. Rushing to the bedroom – or the backseat or kitchen counter or park bench – only gives you one thing, a nut; there is more to life than a nut. The best diamonds take time to mold and develop. Choose to be that diamond type of person or have that diamond-like relationship. Nobody wants a rhinestone, except children and cheap hoodrats who don’t know your worth anyhow.

But let’s say you do fall head over long heels, red bottoms as I did. Let’s say your fairy tale becomes reality, swiftly followed by your worst nightmare. Remember, you must move on. Life is about living and learning from your mistakes, and others’. Keep the ball in your court and realize your purpose every day that you wake. That is how you live and live more abundantly.

As I throw the dirt back into the grave I once created for myself, my only hope is that someone reading this never has to experience that which I did. And though I don’t have HIV, life is still too short to be living blind to the bullshit. Stay woke, my people!

SOURCE: MUSED MAG