He starts undressing. Why is he always so keen to get naked?

Personally, I hate this part, but not necessarily because I don’t want him to see me naked. Something I’m grateful for is the growing acceptance I have of my body and all its lumps and bumps. I know I could do with more gym time and less chicken, but my body is my body, and it has housed my soul well for the last thirty-something years.

But what I don’t like are witnesses to me undressing.

I’m very aware that I undress like a toddler. I bend in the wrong places. I take things off in the wrong sequence. My feet get stuck. Nothing about the way I undress is sexy, which is unfortunate as the undressing happens at a peak moment in the run-up to sex.

By the look of things, my awkward undressing hasn’t dampened his desire. That’s good, I guess.

We resume the kissing and his hands start wandering as we lie down on the bed. Mine won’t move from his shoulders.

Then he starts moving his head lower. I might be plucked and primed and aesthetically ready for him, but I don’t want his face going there.

So instead, I grab his penis.

He can’t go further down if he can’t move his penis. He moans and stops moving down, thank God. Bribery and distraction work so well – maybe I’m good at this. Maybe I could actually enjoy this.

‘Sit on my face.’

Wait, what?

‘What did you say?’

‘Sit on my face.’

My vagina is in risk of retreat.

‘Ummm, no thanks, not right now.’

He grabs my neck, and I am definitely not OK with it.

‘Sit on my face.’

All of a sudden I panic. Shit balls. I don’t know anything about Colin. Why have I done this? It all feels very wrong. My vagina has fully retreated.

I shake my head. ‘Please stop.’

He lets me go. Thank God.

‘I’m really sorry, but you need to leave.’

He looks at me with a very confused face.

‘What? I won’t grab you again, if that’s what you’re worried about. I was just in the moment. I can get kinda kinky sometimes.’ He gives me a face that I think is meant to be reassuring. I do not find it reassuring.

‘I don’t think – I’m sorry – I realize that I was the one who invited you here, but I don’t want you here any more. Please go.’ He doesn’t move, so I make myself clear. ‘Now.’

A while after he’s gone, I pull on comforting clothes and head out of my bedroom.

Massive plus point – he left the chicken.

I put the chicken on a plate, wipe up the grease left by the bag, and decide to eat it all by myself. I don’t think I can handle noise, so I don’t turn on the TV, but I do need something to quiet my mind, so I look around my apartment for distraction.