“How did you do number 4.a?”  I don’t look up from my book. Time is limited, and I am tired.

“What?”

He’s staring blankly at me, clearly distracted. “Oh.. I don’t know, I think it’s in the lecture slides somewhere…”

“You really don’t look like you want to work on this problem set.” Oh underclassmen…

He’s grinning that guilty smile, like he wants to tell me something.

“It’s my birthday this weekend. My boyfriend is taking me to the San Jose Sharks game.”

“Oh cool!” I’m smiling. They had only recently gotten back together, so good for them.

“And then I’m going to donate blood in the blood drive organized by them and Stanford.” He looks so happy and excited…

“Oh..” Try not to show your thoughts, Crystal.

“I don’t know if you know this but…” How am I supposed to explain this to him?

“They don’t exactly…

allow…

menwhohavehadsexwithothermendonateblood.”

There, I said it.

“What do you mean? Why not?”

“They’re paranoid of HIV.”

He’s not responding. Maybe I should keep talking.

“It’s a really stupid rule. It’s just a relic from the old days when they didn’t know what was causing HIV and the blood supply would get contaminated.”

Still no response.

“You see, these days they test for HIV in everyone’s blood after it’s collected, so there should be no risk. But still, they won’t accept you.”

Finally, he’s about to say something.

“What will they do if I show up?”

“They will literally turn you away. They will say, ‘I’m sorry but you cannot donate blood in the US.’”

“But not all gay men have HIV. I don’t have HIV.”

I don’t know what else to say. I can’t explain it to him, because there really is no explanation. I’ve never experienced a silence so loud before.

“Guess I’m not doing that then.”

Read Bad Blood Part I