This story was first published in April 2017. Some details may have changed since.
Original story from OUT Magazine
My best friend Micah has accompanied me to every HIV test I’ve had in the past decade. Carrie and Miranda had the Magnolia Bakery; we have the Gay Men’s Health Crisis on West 29th Street. You’re supposed to go every three months, and I’m there about every four and a half, sometimes five.
I’ve learned to not listen to Aimee Mann on the subway ride. If you want my advice, just put Dolly Parton’s “Travelin’ Thru” on loop. Invariably I’m late, so Micah will wait for me in the Pret a Manger on the corner, as it’s either piercingly cold or summer stormy—you know, weather in which to get potentially life-changing news. We hug, say something bitchy, and walk into the clinic. I’ve always found negative energy to be an underrated quality of close friendship.
Read more at: OUT Magazine
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