But he probably didn’t. He probably thought I was going to lecture him on how the point of PrEP was to take your sexual health in your own hands, and for me this meant not necessarily trusting a random stranger to take the appropriate tests and have good-ish adherence. But actually, if he wound me up, I would get all nuts and rant about how PrEP could be kind of neoliberal, cruel and rude, because while everyone talked about its blue life-changing alchemy it hadn’t been neg guys who’d kept transmission rates down in the years between antiretrovirals and the present. I had read stories online about neg guys in the aughts who disliked or mistrusted condoms and only slept with poz boys, because they knew they were safest with the people most likely to stick to their life-extending treatment regimes, whittling down their viral loads till they were undetectable. But you still heard about idiots who spoiled a good thing by taking PrEP but declining to sleep with poz boys anyway, when poz boys’ medication was the more effective.

‘You will literally not be able to tell the difference,’ I said.

‘It’s psychological,’ he said. ‘You can’t argue with that.’

This was dumb, because in that case, really what can you argue with? But the goal now was to come to some sort of agreement by which we could put our clothes back on with dignity intact and nobody doing anything that would reflect poorly on them later, no broken promises, no dissolving principles.

If it’s on, it’s not on ;-P! His profile had said this. I had thought he was being Gertrude Stein-ish, Zen and fun. I tried to make myself slow down and consider him. This person, basically nude, so different from those pictures. The way someone could end up here, a stranger and you.

I touched his hand and said, ‘I have to say, I’m impressed. You have a clear idea of what you want. You’re not afraid to go for it.’

‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I don’t know, I’m just at the point where I’m done playing with men. I know exactly who I am.’ He squinted at me. ‘What about you?’

I moved my hands anxiously underneath my thighs. ‘Are we still talking about PrEP?’ I said.

He shook his head, got up, saw one of the damp green towels hanging on a hook on the wall, and wrapped it tightly around himself, his underwear and all.

‘Hey,’ he said. ‘This is a really nice towel.’

‘I know it is,’ I nodded. I still didn’t know where this was going.

‘I’ve come to realise life is in the business of closing doors,’ he said. ‘It’s the new year soon. If you’re not careful, you’ll – jeez. Is it really hot?’