First Time

Arden and Angie had sex for the first time and there's a single, important, unshared secret.

ARDEN

We had sex last night.

I mean, it was our first time and all. It was supposed to be really special, and it was, considering we’ve been going out for about nine months, now. I was really excited. There was a nice hotel room, candles, chocolates, even a fancy dinner before, the whole nine yards. It was extremely romantic, I thought. She seemed to think so, too, or so she led me to believe. God, she looked beautiful last night.

Anyways, apparently I was getting mixed signals, because she hasn’t talked to me since. I mean, it’s only been a day and all, so I probably shouldn’t freak out, but we haven’t gone a day without talking in months. First, she didn’t even respond to my ‘good morning’ text. She always does. And she always calls me on her lunch break. And she signed off today the minute I instant messaged her. And when I texted her to tell her I love her… Well, you get the idea. I tried calling her once or twice, too, nothing. And I know she read that message I sent her on Facebook, but she just didn’t respond.

I just… I don’t understand it. I mean, I love her. She knows I love her. And last night had been partially her idea. Actually, it had been a suggestion of mine, and then she fully persuaded me with this ear thing I probably shouldn’t talk about. Anyways, she was extremely romantic. So beautiful. God, I love her. She was great, too. Maybe I was bad. I mean, she told me I was great, but I am a bit out of practice. Alright, maybe I was a virgin. But I know she wasn’t, so… What if she was comparing me, or something, to an old boyfriend, and then decided she missed him? What if she’s going to dump me, because of a night of intercourse?

God, that idea scares the s**t out of me.

I think I’m going to try calling her again. I just hope she picks up soon. I don’t know what I’ll do with myself if she breaks it off with me. Take up bowling or something, I don’t know. Man.

ANGIE

We had sex last night.

It was his first time. It was cute. He was cute, really, and it was one of the best nights of my life. I really love that kid. He’s so… I don’t know how to describe it. Good. It’s the first time I can ever picture myself settling down with someone. I mean, I know that sounds lame, but really. He took me out to this amazing restaurant, and refused to let me pay. And then he took me to this really nice hotel, where he lit scented candles, and told me I was beautiful. It was sweet. The entire thing was sweet.

But… the guilt.

I mean, he suspected there was a reason for me not wanting to have sex. He asked me about it, once, and I was able to change the subject. But I should have told him. I should have told him right from the start of the relationship, because it comes with so much… Baggage. I could die at any moment. Well, not any moment, but the clock is certainly ticking. And what if I passed it onto him? That’s how I got it, after all. I could have ruined his life. If he knew, he probably wouldn’t love me anymore. He would probably be extremely pissed, and rightfully so.

Wouldn’t hurt any less, though.

I know I have to tell him sometime, though. Soon. Tomorrow, perhaps. Next week at the latest. And it’s not like he could have ever suspected. It’s not something I show. I mean, I know someone else who has the disease, from the one life support meeting I actually bothered to go to, and he’s depressed as hell. Understandably so, of course, but nevertheless. I’m the exact opposite. What gives me the right to be little Miss Negative, even if I’m HIV positive? Nothing, that’s what, and so he couldn’t possibly have known.

Anyways, I should take my AZT, then probably give him a call. I don’t want him to worry.