An Eye for an Eye

I was surprised at my ability to act as if I did nothing wrong. Each time it happened I marveled at every man’s ignorance. In those moments I was in control, and it was the adrenaline rush that caused me to orgasm, not the man.

My hobby started three weeks after I spoke to Andrew.

“I know it’s scary to think about, but we can get through it together. Because babe, you definitely have it,” I said.

“Look Kaelynn, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Andrew said.

“Stop avoiding this, you’ve been doing that the entire conversation. I’m scared too. What do you mean you don’t know? You’re the reason for it! I’ve only been with you!” I said.

He hung up the phone and did not call back. I spent the next two weeks in complete misery: I only ate, cried, and slept. Some days I forgot to eat. I lost ten pounds.

When I looked in the mirror on the start of week three, I was disgusted. My hair was frizzy and patches of dandruff began to find a home on my hairline. The lips that Andrew loved were gone and replaced with cracked and rough ones. I slept in the crevice of my bed with the trash that littered the entirety of my room. But nothing I saw or did was enough to get me out of my slump, until I smelled myself. It was bad; a tangible being that filled my nostrils. So the third week was spent on my appearance and home. When I felt presentable enough, I went out.

“Hey, get a drink with me, beautiful,” he said.

“I don’t usually drink with strangers,” I said.

“If you get a drink with me and talk, I won’t be a stranger. Come on girl,” he cooed.

I was a beautiful woman in a bar alone; I had no reason not to talk to this man. I was no longer in a relationship and in order to get over Andrew, I needed distractions. This distraction was a towering, handsome man; that kept flashing his perfect, straight teeth with every compliment he gave me. His perfectly creased pants and diamond-encrusted cuff links displayed an air of class that I admired. So, I flirted with him and allowed him to take me home.

“Hey, I know this is the first time we’re meeting each other, so if you want me to stop,” he said.

“No don’t stop, keep going,” I said.

For the next thirty minutes we continued to kiss and roll all over the bed. I knew it was leading to sex and I knew I shouldn’t, but I wanted to. I made up my mind that if he initiated or asked for sex, I’d let it happen. With that decision made, I kissed him harder.

“My god. You’re driving me crazy. I just want to get closer to you,” he said, in between heavy breaths.

“Get closer to me then.”

He pulled out a condom and as he started to unwrap it, I got anxious. I started fiddling with my nails, but before I could pinpoint my anxiety, I spoke.

“No we don’t need one,” I blurted out.

“Are, are you sure? Cause, um, yeah,” he stammered.

“I’m sure. It feels way better anyway, right?” I asked.

He answered by throwing the condom on the ground and pinning me on the bed. That night I had the best orgasm of my life and from that moment on, I was hooked.

For the next three months, I brought home a different man at least three times a week. Each time I blurted out that we didn’t need a condom. It was addicting. Andrew was no longer a pressing thought. I was getting revenge on him every time I had sex.

My doctor’s appointment was scheduled for 4pm, but I was running late. I didn’t come in until 7 o’clock that morning. Another man. I purposely neglected to remember any of these men’s names and gave them all fake phone numbers. They were temporary fun. I didn’t need anyone being able to track me down.

As I walked into my doctor’s office, she looked at me with disappointment.

“Kaelynn, what’s the point of me writing prescriptions, if you don’t fill them?” she asked.

“I forgot, sorry,” I said.

“You can’t forget! This is your health! If you even catch a cold, you could get severely sick, because you refuse to take your medicine. You have to start now,” she said.

“Okay I will,” I answered.

She began asking me the general questions about my health. I told her I was fine. But when she asked me about sex, I perked up a bit, ready to give a performance.

“Have you had sex recently?” she asked.

“Only like once, I think,” I said.

“Okay. Good. Was it unprotected?”

“Of course not! I would never do that, you know how hurt I was about Andrew giving it to me,” I said.

She shook her head with approval. My doctor then went on to explain that with me not taking my medicine, the HIV is prevalent in my blood. If I have unprotected sex I will definitely pass the virus on. She understood the hurt and anger I felt with Andrew because he gave it to me and didn’t acknowledge it. Despite that, it was my responsibility to make sure I put no one else in danger.

I sat there nodding my head and smiling. I didn’t tell her that every time I tricked another man into having unprotected sex with me, I felt powerful. That the anger and betrayal I felt from Andrew left me. The control I lost when being diagnosed, came back, stronger each time I had an orgasm. I wasn’t a silly girl anymore who was coerced into trusting her boyfriend when he said he was clean. I no longer believed that I was in love. I had the ability to ruin someone’s life the way Andrew ruined mine. By not learning names and giving fake phone numbers, I could not acknowledge it as well. My doctor didn’t understand that I was making myself feel better. I was healing myself. She was so focused on the effects of the virus in my body, but I didn’t care about that. I found my cure.

She ended the lecture by sending me to the pharmacy. She told me that if I put in as much work as she is willing to put in for me, we could get the virus to very low levels in my body. I told her that sounded great.

More important things occupied my mind. I had a date that night. Some man I met on the train was eager to take me out, so I told him where and when to meet me. I went home and made sure whatever I put on was easy to take off. We met at a restaurant and had a great conversation. After that, we went to a bar and got a little tipsy.

“Wait sweetie, before we go to my place, I need to go to the store,” he said.

“Okay sure, I’ll look at magazines.”

I noticed he went to the section where the condoms were, and I thought about letting him save his money, but I said nothing. I would tell him when the time was right. We went to his place and started fooling around. He got up and reached for the condom.

“No we don’t need one,” I said.

“Um, I’d prefer we used one,” he said.

“Why? Do you have something?” I asked defensively.

“No I’d just feel better if we used one.”

I was starting to panic. Why wasn’t he following the plan? Over thirty men allowed me to tell them we didn’t need one. They listened to me; they trusted me due to their lust. He was messing it up. I got desperate.

“I just don’t think we need a condom. It feels way better without one.”

“I’m sorry but if you don’t wanna use one, we can’t have sex,” he said.

“What?” I asked.

At that moment I grabbed all my clothes and started to leave.

“Wait, you don’t have to leave, we could just hang out!”

“No fucking thanks, Andrew.”

“Who?”

I walked outside pissed beyond belief. I was back to square one, feeling pitiful. My head hurt, violent sneezes started leaving my body, and my nose was tingling. I ran into a restaurant and grabbed some napkins. My nose was going to explode. Once outside again, I blew my nose and looked at the napkin.

Shit.

Blood.