‘What’s happened?’ he roars.

‘Go on then,’ I growl back. I’m awful when I’m woken. I’m like a bear.

‘Let’s start with what you said about me on the television last night, shall we?’

The show. I’ve been dreading this. During our shopping expedition, Faith suggested I ought to warn Jordan about what I’d stopped him seeing last night if I was worried about how he may react. If Jordan is to take offence, best he hears things from me. It’s obviously a little late for that. One of those horrible eavesdroppers at Jordan’s office must have got in first.

‘Exactly,’ Jordan says, at my look of horror. ‘I’ve been the laughing-stock of the office all day!’

Of course, there is the teeny-weeny sausage play that could, understandably, be interpreted to reflect poorly on the perceived size of Jordan’s manhood. And in the promo for the next episode, the editors had cut to me teasing Ben the dentist about how electrical products could add some excitement between the sheets, which also sounded more personal than I’d meant it to.

‘Jordan, it’s just a show, it’s all dramatisation. And whatever we say, my boyfriend is a mystery.’

‘I’m Master J.’

Coming from his mouth, it sounds worse than ever.

‘Faith says that. I mean, on the show. I—’

‘That bloody show.’

I tried to warn him. When we started, I’d tried.

‘Jordan, please calm down. I told you this new format would be a bit racy. You were the one who said sex sells.’

‘And now everyone believes we’re not having any!’

I have to think about this a moment. Of all things, it’s my off-hand, on-camera comment that my boyfriend is too busy at work to give me much attention that has him riled? And from this, everyone now believes we’re not having sex? I can’t think of anything else it could be. Huh. Of all the things I was worried about… I suppose the sausage was no bigger than a fat pinkie – too small to be taken seriously. Or maybe nobody at Jordan’s work was brave enough to mention that bit? I’m at a loss what to say. What Jordan is most upset about is true. We aren’t getting boogie-with -it any more.

‘Jordan, it’s true. We’re not having sex,’ I say.

Jordan storms off into the kitchen. I expect him to disappear into his work den swiftly. Instead, he returns to the living room.

‘Jordan, what’s happened to us?’

I’m calm.

‘It’s just been a while,’ Jordan replies. Not shouting. Which is, perhaps, an indication that all is not lost between us. That in his mind, we’re simply in a bit of a lull. But Jordan makes no move to get closer to me. To hold me in his arms. Or take my hand.