The Revolutionary Romance of Deontez and Jerald: How Faith and ‘U=U,’ Led To I Do
A lot has changed since Deontez Wimbley, 29, first walked into the Chili’s restaurant in the Lindbergh section of Buckhead in April 2016. Today, the restaurant is permanently closed, but nearly six years later, the connection he made with Jerald Nuness, 29, then a server, and now his husband, proved to be worth the risk of being rejected. Like customers who frequently tipped less than the standard 20% or not at all, Nuness says he was accustomed to being hit on at work, and Wimbley, who also worked in the restaurant industry for a period, knew the odds of the conversation moving beyond a two for $20 were slim to none, or so he thought.
“Should I try to say something or not? My best friend and I were having this conversation amongst ourselves,” Wimbley says. “We kind of concluded that even if I were to shoot my shot, if I wrote my number on the receipt, it'd get balled up and thrown away. So I didn't want to be corny like that. So I got on Jack’d as we were leaving the restaurant.”
“And so did I, as they were leaving,” says Nuness.
Wimbley recalls sending his future husband a message on the popular gay dating app to ask about connecting outside of the Buckhead eatery as he made his way to the Lindbergh Marta station—eventually making plans for their first date—dinner at Maggiano's.
While neither were interested in pursuing a serious relationship, Wimbley, adamant about not settling down before his birthday over Labor Day Weekend, was also equally adamant about sharing his truth with Nuness, which once revealed could threaten to derail the train off the track.
“This is 2016. Jerald didn’t know about PrEP. Jerald didn’t know about U=U. These public health messaging tools had not reached Jerald. And so for him to still have been there, it meant a lot.”
In a text to Nuness, Wimbley disclosed his HIV status. Diagnosed in 2012, Wimbley says he had specific reasons for sharing his personal health information on day one of meeting the slim and attractive server.
“Look, I was learning about these girls out here getting folks sent to jail for HIV criminalization, which is a huge problem,” Wimbley says. “I knew that I wanted to make sure Jerald knew what my status was. And so I texted him. I was like, hey, I'm HIV-positive... I just wanted you to know that. And I didn't want to say it to him in person because I didn't want to give him any pressure to respond a certain way. By sending the text—one, it'll get it on record. And two, it would provide him the opportunity to respond however he wanted. He could have blocked me and kept it moving or he could respond the way that he did.”
Mentally, Wimbley says he was prepared for Nuness to reject him. After all, messaging around PrEP, the antiretroviral drug prescribed to HIV-negative men and women to prevent the acquisition of HIV, and “U=U,” a campaign indicating that a person living with HIV with a consistently undetectable viral load cannot transmit the virus to their partner (s), was struggling to reach the population most impacted by the epidemic. For Wimbley, Nuness’ reaction was a sweet surprise.
“I had already had experience with people in my life who were HIV positive. I knew more than most,” says Nuness. “And so I wasn’t turned off or afraid or scared or anything. It was just like, okay, thanks for letting me know.”
“This is 2016. Jerald didn't know about PrEP. Jerald didn't know about U=U. These public health messaging tools had not reached Jerald. And so for him to still have been there, it meant a lot,” says Wimbley.
Nuness is not living with HIV. So would his friends and family be as accepting of him dating someone whose HIV status differed from his?
“When I told my parents, the first reaction was concern,” says Nuness. “Are y’all being safe? Are you okay? How are you going to deal with that?”
Nuness tells The Reckoning that he and Wimbley “didn’t actually have sex until I was on PrEP.”
“And so when that happened, I was able to explain the science and everything to them [his parents] regarding PrEP and how it works. As time went on, they were educated by me and it eased their minds. They weren't afraid for me.”
Unresolved Issues
With all of Wimbley’s cards on the table, the new couple moved at lightning speed, eventually moving in together within the first three months of dating.
“We were some U-Haul lesbians,” Wimbley jokes. “Our first few years we were in a relationship, living together, supporting each other through different jobs, learning about each other's families, and then 2018 happened and our relationship took a different direction,” he says.
Without revealing the intimate details that ultimately led to the brief end of their relationship, the couple admits that “things were broken.”
“No body parts. There was no hitting or anything like that,” Nuness says.
“The apartment got fucked up. It’s okay to just say it,” Wimbley says. “We got into a very significant altercation in November 2018 that resulted in both of us in jail. That threw a huge boulder in our relationship.”
“We thought we had communication down. We thought we had it all down and then that happened. We realized we had a lot of different issues that we weren’t necessarily aware of that we needed to work on.”
“We thought we had communication down. We thought we had it all down and then that happened,” says Nuness. “We realized we had a lot of different issues that we weren't necessarily aware of that we needed to work on.”
The couple decided to go their separate ways.
“I initiated the breakup,” Wimbley says. “And although Jerald was initially resistant, I think it was the best thing for us to have actual distance, not for us to take a break, but for us to break up, to not be in a relationship.”
“There was a lot of growth and healing that happened in those four months,” says Nuness.
“I think both of us have memories we will cherish forever. We probably would not want our lives to have not had those four months in them,” Wimbley says.
‘Hey, You Wanna Get Married?’
But as much as the couple says they needed time apart, it was becoming increasingly obvious that they needed each other more. But their unresolved issues would need to be addressed before they could move into the next phase of their relationship. And Wimbley, who was leaning into his calling for ministry, traded an airport pickup of a minister friend for couples counseling.
“You don’t get what you deserve, you get what you negotiate,” Wimbley says. “He gave us four hours of his time to help us talk through some stuff that we had been walking on eggshells around. And that was the saving grace that remanded our relationship. And so we were back together by July 2019 and we’ve been doing well.”
So well that the couple became engaged at the end of the year. There was no fanfare or elaborate engagement—it was just simple.
“We actually would just have conversations about marriage and what a proposal would look like. And we always said that we would just be in bed and be like, hey, you wanna get married? And that was it,” says Wimbley. “We didn't actually start planning until February 2020. We knew we wanted it to be small and intimate.”
“My theology is shaped by a boundaries breaking, rules breaking, traditional breaking, Jesus. I don’t throw tradition away, but I definitely recognize that it is not above critique. I recognize our norms are not above critique.”
“And we also knew that we didn't want to invest all of that money into one day,” says Nuness.
On April 10, 2021, Wimbley and Nuness exchanged vows before a small group of family and close friends in Norcross, Georgia, marking the beginning of a lifetime commitment and a narrative shift of what is possible for Black queer men in the South who are unapologetically out, queer, and Christian. In its own way, Wimbley and Nuness’ Christ-centered marriage is revolutionary—defying the belief held by many conservative Christians that identifying as LGBTQ+ and Christian is impossible.
“My faith tells me it’s possible,” says Wimbley. “My theology is shaped by a boundaries breaking, rules breaking, traditional breaking, Jesus. I don't throw tradition away, but I definitely recognize that it is not above critique. I recognize our norms are not above critique. It is all subject to critical engagement. And when we do that engagement and come to realize that something is harmful, something doesn't lead to life abundantly or liberation, then it’s trash,” he says.
Wimbley, who recently accepted a position as Assistant Pastor of Crossroads United Methodist Church in Phoenix, Arizona, will relocate with his husband this fall to spread Christ’s love and liberation to his people, but not before reflecting on the city where their love first took root.
“For Black queer men, there is no city like Atlanta. In one night, you can go from Bulldogs to Mixx to Midtown Moon and end it at The Marquette, and all of them are packed with different people. That does not exist anywhere else,” says Wimbley. “And then if you’ve got $20, you can spend your night at Flex. And then you can wake up the next morning on Sunday and go to the Vision Cathedral and worship. You really could start your weekend off and at every juncture be in a Black queer-owned and centered space, and that only exists in Atlanta.”
While the demographics in Phoenix are different compared to Atlanta, the couple says they will most likely have to create a space for Black queer men, which comes as no surprise since they’ve never failed to tackle a challenge—from their first text to their I do’s.
