once upon time
… there was a little boy. He was the nice kind of child, that everyone loves to have around – good natured, sweet, very curious – and hence was met with loving attention by everyone. This little boy however had to find out one day, having come to a certain age, that there was something in him that did not fit into his all too happy life so far: he was gay. gorgeous looking, intelligent, but gay. This happened however at a time of his life that psychoanalysis does call narcissistic because all happy children at that time are spun in a deep self love, projecting their thoughts and wishes into their world free of any social ties. This to a degree that a sage man could write: “The charm of the child lies to a grat extent, in his narcissism, his self-sufficiency and inaccessability.” At such a time, even in a liberal surrounding, it is very difficult to come to terms with the fact of being different. On the contrary, one wants the world to be like oneself is. Hence the unhappy boy tried the best means at hand in order settle things – he stopped being inaccessibe, he doubled his charmes, he put even more zeal into learning at school and winning at sports. His self-love ceased to be self-sufficient. He started to be very strict with himself when he had to justify it, needing all kind of achievements. What remained was his wish to be loved by everyone for his efforts. And it worked, he was cherished by literally everyone, parents, teachers, his friends and every girl. It did not work further than when he had to come out with his secret, true. But the habit was there. It was even so much there, that when he grew up he did not dare to admit emotional closeness, replacing it with a rather sportive sexual appetite that was as much self-loving conqest as it was a kind of self-punishment for still being different. However he had lots of fun.
What happened then was however not really funny at all. Our hero, because only deep inside he was still our little boy, got HIV. It is much worse coming to terms with this than coming to terms with being just a bit different, at any age. But it was very much so for our hero, as his whole self love was to be bought, from others as much as from himself, by all his achievements that seemed to be all ruined overnight. I guess we agree upon the fact that it is not a good idea at all to identify oneself with mistakes one has made, or a bad fortune. It does not help mend neither mistake nor chance, and it does not help the one who committed the mistake either. As such one will find rarely ever anyone ready to identify himself with a street accident or a broken window. There are not many people ready to declare themselves identical with hypertension or a pneumonia, although these are admittedly rather uncomfortable conditions. For one reason or another there is instead many a guy willing to identify himself with HIV, and he is surrounded by many other guys, themselves HIV positive or not, who are ready to believe the same. Well, logic is getting a bit fuzzy here, admitted. How can a fully grown human individual believe it would be a virus? Social role expectations do foresee a lot of role models, and absurd as it sounds: yes, there are interests of social, political and economic nature which speculate exactly on this role expectation to be accepted by those who contracted the infection. Nonetheless, scientific evidence proves that there are most certain taxonomical differences between the human race and the realm of viruses. Hence empirically it is not really sound to drown oneself into such a delusional identification on semantic level. As talking about commonsense logic, it is not very logical to indulge into delusional identification at all. And what would be the use of it? All his achievements seemed ruined to our hero. All his self love that he bought so expensively did vanish as the currency in this deal with himself was declared worthless. All his plans and projects were ruined. Time itself did collapse into present, as his past was sealed him never being able to become the old self again; and future being obstructed by gloomy expectations and shattered hopes. Despite the categorical imperative it might hold at certain times to keep some delusions up as food for hope and happiness – at certain times and not all of them. Nonetheless, even then there is not much use to delusions anyway.
So, what are we to do with our hero? He cannot just stop living, as this would be like stopping the clock in order to save time. The way the story unfolds, we do need now a kind of fairy of stoicist upbringing who will unravel all these secrets to him. But then, him being gay and fairies being female, they are of no direct use to him perhaps. The deus ex machina has taken his leave from human culture since antiquity. Some sort of sexy shrink perhaps would do? Well, let us hope for the best. Every male fairy, sexy shrinks, gods in appropriate machines willing to help are invited to establish contact a.s.a.p.