We met when I worked in advertising. Generally, the people were abhorrent, but Liam was a freelance designer who would often be on email chains. Occasionally everyone was called in for physical meetings, and I met him in one of those. He followed me down the street afterwards and asked me for a drink. I obviously said no, but he was persistent. He had my email address and asked again later that day. It took a number of tries until I eventually gave in. I arranged the first date for after a wax and we surprisingly had a very nice time. I saw him again a few days later, then went quiet until after my next wax. I saw him every five weeks for around a year. He never lost interest. It all felt extremely out of body and not at all like my life. I only allowed him to have sex with me during the two weeks after a wax. The lights had to be off and I often kept a top on. I told him I had an issue with menstruation that made sex painful during other times in my cycle. He respectfully didn’t question it. I hid my body from him, I played hard to get, and then I’d come on strong when my body was how I wanted it to be. It was the best I could do.

And then he told me that he loved me.

I backed off after that. Told him I didn’t want to see him anymore. That the feelings were not mutual. If this turned into a real relationship, I kept thinking, I wouldn’t be able to hide for weeks on end. I’d have to tell him or, worse still, show him my body.

He got upset one night and asked me if I didn’t fancy him.

‘I’ve tried so hard to get close to you,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what more I can do. You don’t seem to want me physically and I want to know what I can do to make it better.’

The fact that he presumed the problem lay with him devastated me. I knew I had to tell him, maybe even show him the truth about my body.

I took a deep breath.

‘I have a condition called polycystic ovaries,’ I said, looking at the ground. It felt like I was telling him I was ridden with a shameful disease that I had brought upon myself. ‘It means I may have trouble conceiving. It means I am in constant battle with my hormones. It means … it means …’

He waited for me to finish. He was good like that, never speaking over me. Always giving me space to just be.