HIV is not the end. Never.

Life has it’s ways of throwing you a curve ball. This is something I got to know last year, and while I would’ve normally hit that ball back with a firm swing over the fence, I guess you could say things went quite different this time around…

It was August 2014 that I got to know my boyfriend. We met via Tumblr almost a year before, and during his trip through Europe in the summer of that year, we actually met in person for the first time. I knew from the very first second he stepped of that train that this would be the man I’d grow old with – no doubt about it. We immediately hit it off and over the course of his travels, he returned multiple times to spend time with me, my friends, and my family.

All good things come to an end, and so did his holidays. When he got back home in Germany in time for university to start, he popped in at the STD clinic first chance he got. I had already gotten back into the grind at my job, working with social media for a huge A brand, and rocking a promotion to a managerial position I had just gotten. Life was going great and I couldn’t be happier. 

Cut to to the 22nd of September. WhatsApp. On the train from Utrecht to Amsterdam.

“Jeff. I fucked up. I fucked up so hard.”

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