December 2003

Dear Dale: I turn to your column first when I open OutNow every month. In a good way, it reminds me how much I still love my Steven, who died in 1998. He was the love of my life. We had twenty-six precious years together before AIDS claimed his physical body. Sentimentality does not become me at all because I have so much to be thankful for. But I have feelings, some deeply remorseful and others profoundly joyous, that I want to share with you and your readers.

In the early 1980s I told Steven that I wanted to see other men sexually. He did not share my need, and, in fact, was quite upset by it. But, I was not willing, and perhaps unable, to accommodate his need for monogamy. It was only after he and I both tested HIV positive in 1993 that I lost my need to have sex outside our relationship. I am certain that I infected Steven with HIV, a cause for remorse. But Steven never once held it against me. Instead, he was overjoyed that I came back to him completely, and that we had every Saturday night together again. Those last five years were magical for both of us. Steven was my healer. His forgiveness and unconditional love remain my proof that true goodness is a reality.

I am blessed because Steven’s love seems to have cured me of all those cravings that I used to have. Even though I miss his companionship, I do not long to replace it with anyone else’s. I don’t need a bigger house. I like the car I bought nine years ago. My sister’s fundamentalist Christian ravings don’t even bother me anymore.

I really respect and appreciate all your good advice, Dale. For anyone who hasn’t met their Steven yet, I suggest they find a partner and experience love. It was not until I loved truly, and was loved in return, that those unidentifiable, unreachable cravings within me were finally satisfied. I would not have the contentment that I do today if I had not opened my heart to love. --Richard D. in Aptos via e-mail.

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