Darcy Spits (they/them) takes a dive into the dating pool, at a café with international student Matías (he/him). As coffees are drained and knees touch, Darcy shares some HIV knowledge with the charming Colombian.
The air is thick with roasted beans and toasted sourdough. Tables of students bathe in the chemical light of laptops and phones. A steam wand screeches. I turn to see the barista with cherry-red hair and a septum piercing expertly pour milk into mugs.
I shift my gaze back to Matías, the Colombian hunk sitting across from me. His dark eyes remain downcast, a menu bending slightly in his grip.
His off-white graphic tee stretches between broad shoulders, revealing bulging, brown biceps.
My eyes follow his thick and shapely arse as he saunters to the counter to order.
I check my reflection in the serviette holder. My makeup has held up, and my hair is only slightly dishevelled from the wind. I run my hands through and scrunch the curls a few times. Matias returns as I’m putting my lip gloss back in my brown leather handbag.
“So, how long have you been in Australia for?” I ask with a slight smile.
“I have been here for three months now!” Matías replies excitedly, “I am loving it here, I have made lots of friends at my Hostel, and I start university soon. I’m staying very close to the gay clubs, which I have been going to at some weekends. I miss my home, though! I miss my dog and family especially.” He speaks quickly. I lean forward to catch every word. “Are you from here, cariño?”
“Well, I am from Sydney but moved here last year for work. I also have a dog back home; I miss him a lot!” My smile widens as we exchange puppy pictures.
“Tell me more about you, Darcy.” I like the way my name sounds coming out of his mouth.
“Ummm, I’m 23, I’m a graphic designer. In my spare time, I like reading and going dancing with my friends” I remember to inhale “Oh, I’m also non-binary, and I use they/them pronouns.”
“Ah, yes, I remember from your profile. I will warn you, I do find pronouns a little hard in English; I end up calling men ‘her’ all the time, but I will try my best. We have a similar thing in Spanish, one of my friends back home is no binario and…” Matías pauses, thinking “…they use elle and elles pronouns.”
I exhale in relief.
Our coffees arrive with tendrils of steam rising from their foam. With the cup hot in my hands, I ask, “What are the biggest differences you’ve noticed between here and back home?”
“It is much less busy here! In Bogotá, there are so many people everywhere; it is very, very busy. And I feel like there is more community back home. Family is such a big thing in Colombia. We will have big family parties often, so many cousins running around, and so much food. That is why I like the gay clubs here, they are busy and loud and remind me of home. Another thing I have noticed is that guys here don’t use condoms as much. Is that normal here?” Matías’s voice goes up at the end.
“Well, some guys use condoms. But PrEP is also super common here” I say.
“I don’t use condoms every time I have sex, but I know I’m protected from HIV by taking PrEP. I also get tested regularly, so I can know my HIV status and get treated for STIs” I offer.
Matías nods and licks his upper lip where a foam moustache has formed over his real one. We both let out a chuckle before he responds:
“Interesting! I’ve heard about PrEP, but it’s less common back home. Maybe it’s something about PrEP being for ‘gay guys’ only. There is a lot of masculinity and HIV stigma back home. I once had sex with someone who was HIV positive, and he told me it was fine to have sex without a condom, but I still wanted to use one. I was nervous.” He stumbled over the last part.
I can’t help but relate to Matías; I was feeling the same when I was still learning about HIV.
“I get it. I had a similar experience a little while ago. I was about to have sex with this person, and they disclosed their HIV status. It was the first time I’d knowingly hooked up with someone who was undetectable before. I got anxious and made things awkward. But then we talked about what undetectable means, and that there was no chance of transmitting HIV. After that we ended up having a lot of fun.”
“Yes, he said he was undetectable!” He exclaims, “But I didn’t really understand what he was saying, I still don’t really get it.”
“It’s something I learnt about recently as well,” I start, “being undetectable means that someone who is on HIV treatment has reduced the amount of HIV in their body to so little, it doesn’t show on a test. This means that there is no chance of HIV transmission, even if you don’t use PrEP or condoms. On dating apps you might see it as U+, UVL or U=U (Undetectable = Untransmittable).”
I retrieve my phone from the table and get up the Emen8 article about UVL I found after my hookup with Ángel. I flick it to the Spanish translation too. His breath brushes warm against my wrist as he looks at the screen.
“That makes sense, thanks for explaining it to me!” He says, returning my wide grin. The whiteness of his teeth contrasts the deep brown of his skin.
I feel a strong leg pressing up against mine from under the table. It stays there, and so does mine.
“So, have you had much luck on dating apps since being here?” I ask.
“Yes, definitely! It’s been a good way to meet people, even friends, and of course, have some fun.” He states with a wink, “I also get to go on dates with cute people like you.”
He places his hand over mine on the table next to our now-empty mugs. My cheeks rouge immediately.
“Ah, thank you, that’s very sweet…and you’re also very cute,’ I stumble over the words, “Sorry, I don’t go on dates very often. I’m a bit out of practice.” I steady my breath, and our legs build static against each other.
“That’s okay!” Matías reassures, sliding his hand under my own, “Do you want to get out of here?”
“Absolutely”, I reply quickly, “your place or mine?”
“I’m sharing a room with 10 guys at the moment, so unless you’re into that, maybe your place?” He asks, full of cheek.
I flash him a sarcastic glare, which melts into a smirk. The metal legs of our chairs screech against the polished concrete. Our fingers interlace and I lead him out of the café, in the direction of my place.
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