Across the table in a quiet Soho coffee shop, a promising first date unfolded. For over an hour, the conversation flowed effortlessly between Jason Reid and his companion, covering careers, travel, and the shared experiences of prejudice faced as gay men. After a string of disappointing encounters, this man seemed different—enlightened, compassionate, and aligned in their belief in LGBT+ solidarity. Jason felt a rare sense of ease.
The Unspoken Truth on a Promising Date
Despite the comfort and connection, a significant part of Jason's story remained unshared: his HIV-positive, undetectable status. Moments arose where he considered introducing the topic, but a familiar mental block took hold. He worried about shifting the mood and facing potential rejection, a fear forged from years of confronting uneducated and dehumanising attitudes. He was hospitalised with an AIDS-defining illness in September 2005, a period that profoundly changed his life at 25.
His CD4 count—a key measure of immune health—had plummeted to just nine cells per cubic millilitre of blood, a stark contrast to a normal range of 500-1200. After tumultuous months in hospital and a specialist AIDS hospice, where he was treated for AIDS dementia and relearned basic skills, antiretroviral therapy helped him recover physically. The psychological scars, however, ran deep.
Navigating Stigma and Reclaiming Privacy
In his 'second life', Jason's confidence was battered by pervasive stigma. On dating apps, the blunt question 'Are you clean?' was common. Dentists refused him treatment, and some healthcare professionals outside London insisted on double-gloving. These experiences, though perhaps seeming small to others, were soul-crushing, leading to severe depression, PTSD, and social anxiety.
This shame made relationships difficult, and eventually, he chose to keep his status largely private, sharing only with family and close friends. "It was my information to share," he asserts. While he had flings—sometimes disclosing his undetectable status, sometimes not—the decision was always a personal calculation of the other person's likely understanding.
Disclosure could be liberating, building trust and breaking down stigma through knowledge. But it also carried risks: instant rejection on apps from those who 'didn't want to take risks' (despite there being none when undetectable), or being ghosted after several good dates. Ironically, this made him more cautious, sometimes choosing not to tell even seemingly understanding people to avoid jeopardising a good connection.
A Medical Reassurance and Personal Resolution
During a routine checkup in 2024, Jason sought clarity. His consultant confirmed that because his viral load is consistently undetectable—meaning Undetectable equals Untransmittable (U=U)—and he takes effective daily antiretroviral treatment (ART), there is no risk to sexual partners. He was not legally required to disclose.
This medical reassurance was empowering, yet trepidation remains. The fear of rejection and the dilemma of timing persist—once, waiting until a sixth date to share was seen as a breach of trust, ending the relationship. Today, some dating apps allow profiles to display 'undetectable', lifting a burden. But Jason's greatest comfort comes from a firm, personal conviction. "The biggest comfort is knowing my HIV status is mine and mine alone," he states. If he chooses never to share it, that is entirely his decision.
Looking back, he regrets not telling the man in the coffee shop, who seemed like someone who would understand. His journey is a powerful testament to living beyond stigma, where personal health is just that—personal.
