In the last year or so I’ve gotten a bit closer to a guy, “Tom,” who was originally an acquaintance but whom I would now call a friend. We met a few years ago when we were both volunteering for HIV/AIDS awareness.

Since my 8 or so years experience in the HIV arena began after widespread AZT and drug cocktails were in use, I’ve never naturally considered an AIDS diagnosis, let alone HIV+ status, an imminent death. I don’t even give it a second thought anymore. And though I don’t personally know anyone who’s died from an AIDS-related opportunistic illness, I don’t know anyone who’s lived more than 15 years as positive, either - not that people can’t or haven’t done that.

Tom is HIV+ and has been for, I think, 4 or 5 years. He’s in his mid-20s, healthy and active, and one of the many, many people you’d never know was positive unless he told you. He’s always been very open about his status, using it foremost as an opportunity to educate.

Last week we were talking about how great the weather had been, and how much we were both looking forward to spring. Tom said that a sudden spring was a little annoying because he needed time to go tanning so he could wear shorts and tank-tops without embarassment. I laughed and said that I wished I could tan, but ever since I worked for a dermatologist all through high school, I didn’t dare. I tan pretty easily, but I’d seen what could happen from a tan just 20 or 30 years down the road: age spots, ugly moles, wrinkles, skin cancers.

Tom paused for a half-second and said, “I’m gonna tan. I don’t think I really need to worry about what will happen to me in 20 or 30 years.”