The following is an extract from ALL IN: How To Make Love Stick by Vinko Anthony.

When Andrea and I first got together, I made a decision that shaped the start of our relationship in ways neither of us could have imagined. I chose not to disclose my HIV status to him.

Of course, I always made sure Andrea was safe. His wellbeing was my top priority.

My HIV status, in medical terms, is ‘undetectable’. The medication I take causes viral suppression, which reduces the virus to undetectable levels in my blood. Viral suppression is defined as having less than 200 copies of HIV per millilitre of blood. It keeps me healthy and prevents transmission.

Getting to and keeping an undetectable viral load is the best thing people with HIV can do to stay healthy. People with HIV who take their medicine as prescribed and keep an undetectable viral load will not transmit HIV to their partners. This is called ‘undetectable = ‘untransmittable’ or U=U.

Image: Book cover image by Sealey Brandt. Photograph on right by Nikki To.

I did not doubt Andrea’s love. I believed in the strength of our bond, and I hoped it was stronger than the stigma surrounding the virus. But I knew Andrea didn’t have much education on the subject and that gap in knowledge weighed heavily on me.

I was afraid. Even though, deep down, I wanted to believe he would be okay with my HIV status if he truly understood that he was not at risk of infection, I feared rejection.

The decision not to tell Andrea about my HIV was one of the hardest in my life. Until then, I was always open and direct with everyone. I accepted my status long ago and learned to live with it positively, and always openly shared it with close friends and partners in previous relationships. I look after myself meticulously and have check-ups every two months to ensure I stay undetectable.

When I was diagnosed, it was a turning point. I became determined to live a healthier life. I embraced yoga and meditation practices and cultivated a deep respect for the preciousness of life.

I found myself saying that, in some strange ways, contracting HIV was a good thing for me. It sharpened my resolve, made me more successful in my private life, and gave me a clarity of purpose that I hadn’t known before.

I learned to respect life and its fragility. HIV changed my life in profound ways and, in many respects, it changed me for the better.

But even with this positive outlook, I couldn’t escape the fear that came with my status, a fear that made me keep it a secret from Andrea. Every day I held onto the secret, I was risking everything.

The secret was a crushing weight. I lived in constant fear of losing him if he ever found out the truth from someone else.

In some ways I felt that the secret protected him.

In our early years in Australia, he knew few people who could support him. But at the same time, it was killing me that I couldn’t be open and honest with the man I loved more than anything.

I tried to bring it up several times. I looked for the right moment to tell him. But it never came. The words would get stuck in my throat, or the conversation would veer off in another direction. I was left frustrated and defeated.

I wrote many letters to Andrea with the truth, letters that I did not send. Here is one that I found while researching this book. 

In it, you can hear my fear and love, and my effort to be brave.

Dearest Andrea,

There is no hour that goes by that I don’t think about how you are doing or about the words you have written to me. Your thoughts and ideas have sparked so many feelings in me, not least of which is love. Through our letters, you have awakened a depth of emotion in me that I haven’t felt in a long time, especially in matters of romance and connection.

In our journey together, I have come to understand the power of being truly seen by someone else. It is a beautiful and rare thing to feel that someone understands you as deeply as you understand yourself. This mutual understanding makes falling in love so effortless, and perhaps this is what has been happening between us.

Yet, as we grow closer, I find myself grappling with a truth that I need to share with you. It’s something that weighs on my heart because I love you and fear losing you. But our love deserves honesty, and you deserve to know all of me.

I am HIV-positive and undetectable. This means that while I carry the virus, the treatment I undergo keeps it at levels so low that it cannot be transmitted to others. It’s a medical breakthrough that has transformed lives, including mine. But I know that this truth might come as a shock, and it terrifies me to think of what it might mean for us.

I am afraid that this conversation might lead to heartbreak. The stigma and fear around HIV are pervasive and I know that many would say no to a relationship with someone who is positive. I believe in our love and the understanding we’ve built together, yet I have so much fear in myself.

Being open with you about this is not just about my health status; it’s about the future I see for us, a future where we continue to share, grow, and love each other without secrets or fears.

I have always wanted to create a safe space for people living with HIV, where they can love and be loved without the shadow of their condition. I dream of that same safe space for us.

When I see you, I see someone who sees me for who I truly am, and that is a powerful and wonderful thing. It gives me hope that you can accept this part of me too. I want to reach out to you, both physically and emotionally, and let you know that my feelings for you are real and deep.

Understanding and loving each other means being open to all aspects of our lives. It’s about creating a union where both of us feel safe, respected, and cherished. My heart tells me that you are someone who can see beyond the surface, someone who values the person I am and not just the circumstances of my life.

I believe in the love we share, and I hope this truth strengthens our bond rather than weakening it. Please know that I am here to talk, to answer any questions you have, and to continue building a future together, one filled with love, compassion, and mutual respect.

With all my love,
Vinko

I could not send this or any of the other letters I wrote to him. Andrea never asked about my HIV status, I never raised it, and our friends all assumed he knew, so it never came up. Looking back, I thought that he would not understand it; perhaps he didn’t know much about the reality of being HIV because he didn’t have to.

Revealing your HIV status is a bitch. But the longer I kept the secret, the heavier it became and the more it eroded my peace of mind.

Finally, after five years – yes, five years – I reached a point where I knew I couldn’t keep it hidden any longer. Andrea’s knowledge of HIV had grown, and I felt he now had enough support and knowledge to handle the truth.

One morning, before I went to work, I left my HIV prevention pills on the bathroom sink deliberately, so Andrea would see them when he woke up. It wasn’t the most direct approach, but I felt it was the best way to give him time to process the news without the pressure of an immediate conversation.

That day was the toughest of my life. My heart pounded as I left the house, unsure of what I would come home to. I believed in us. I believed in our love. I knew that Andrea would understand my desire to protect him.

Still, I couldn’t shake the fear that my dishonesty could unravel what we had built together.

When I returned home that evening, Andrea was waiting for me. There was a moment of silence before he spoke and, in that moment, I saw the love in his eyes.

It was mixed with confusion and hurt, but also with understanding. We talked for hours that night, about my status, why I had kept it from him and how much I loved him.

It was one of the most intense conversations between us. But it liberated me. The truth was out and, for the first time in five years, I could breathe again.

Andrea showed the kind of grace that only comes from real love.

He didn’t raise his voice; he didn’t turn away. Instead, he quietly took it upon himself to get tested, to face whatever fears might have crept in, not for drama or blame, but to protect his own peace and dignity.

From the very start, he was respectful and kind, though perhaps, back when he knew so little about HIV beyond fear and stigma, he might not have had the courage to keep walking forward with me.

Not because he didn’t love me, but because he wouldn’t have known better. In a way, though the path was imperfect, he was grateful for how it unfolded, grateful that love had the time to grow stronger than fear, that trust had time to take root.

That’s the kind of man Andrea is. His love is not loud, it’s not performative; it’s steadfast. It’s a love that holds you when you think you might fall and stays standing even when the truth shakes the ground beneath you.

And it is that love that taught me that the right person will love you despite your story.

Today, I still believe I made the right decision, even though it was an agonising one. I’m not entirely sure there would still be an ‘us’ if we hadn’t spent those years building a world together, getting to know each other on the deepest level and creating a love strong enough to support this truth.

I wish it could have been different. Living with that secret for five years was incredibly painful and it’s not something I would ever recommend.

If you are in a similar situation, I urge you to discuss your status openly with your partner from the beginning.

Make sure the other person is safe and let them make the decision themselves. I was lucky. Andrea’s love and support did not waver. When the truth finally came out, it transformed our relationship. There were no more secrets and not having to hide anymore changed my life.

No longer hiding my status brought me a newfound freedom, and it altered how I approached everything: life, love, money and my day-to-day existence. Living authentically without that burden made everything easier and more fulfilling. There’s a certain kind of strength that only comes when you know you have nothing left to lose.

For so long, carrying that secret had kept a quiet fear alive inside me, the fear of losing everything if the truth ever came out.

It shaped the way I moved, the way I loved, the way I trusted. But once the weight of that fear was lifted, something in me shifted forever. I no longer lived half-held back by worry or shame. I became fiercer, stronger, clearer.

There was no stopping me anymore, no second-guessing my worth, no shrinking to fit into anyone else’s comfort.

I finally knew that the life I was building was rooted in truth, and from that place, real power began to grow. Our relationship, our business and our friendships just became stronger and stronger.