Warts and all

Mr. S.P. and I had been dating for two months and, although we hadn’t had the exclusivity chat, I was fairly certain we were both serious about one another and that I’d soon be changing my Facebook relationship status to ‘In a relationship’, despite Mr.S.P. and I not even being Facebook friends yet.

It had been more than two years since I last had a boyfriend, and it felt quite strange transitioning from referring to Mr.S.P. as ‘this guy I’m seeing’ to ‘my boyfriend’. Nevertheless, I was smitten with Mr.S.P. and I was ready to swap my alcohol-fuelled nights out with the girls for long love-making sessions with him.

As a new couple, we had been very careful when it came to contraception. Mr. S.P. was so worried about any accidents that if his member so much as brushed my thigh, he’d start panicking. One day, during a particularly vigorous session with me on top, I pulled off Mr. S.P. to switch positions, when he noticed the condom had split. Rather than taking it off and putting a new one on, he stared at it in disbelief and immediately stopped our passionate embrace.

To Mr. S.P., this was a nightmare come true. He ranted obsessively about how he'd definitely impregnated me, that I'd have to take the morning after pill and how we'd have to abstain until we changed our method of contraception. I had to explain that it was highly unlikely I was pregnant, as he hadn't climaxed and I was at the least fertile time in my cycle. I also told him I wouldn't be taking the morning after pill as it isn't available in the UAE and that we didn't have much choice but to use condoms as I'm allergic to the hormones in the contraceptive pill. Mr. S.P. vowed celibacy if that was the case, stating that he'd rather be sexless than have any accidents.

This led us to our first argument of our relationship - I felt he was being irrational, and he felt I was being careless. With both of us being far too stubborn to agree upon a solution, I rolled over to one side of the bed and he the other. I soon realised I had effectively let him win.

Mr. S.P. rolled out of bed, pulled on his shorts and T-shirt and told me he was going to the shop to pick up some ingredients to make breakfast. As soon as I heard him shut the door behind him, I took the opportunity to make sure he didn't ignore my point of view...

I pulled out the little sexy nurses outfit that was in my overnight bag and slipped it on. I fixed my hair and make-up, put on red fishnet stockings and finished the outfit with my red high heels. I knew it wouldn't be long before Mr. S.P. would be back from the convenience store, so I sat provocatively on a ledge at the top of his stairs. Two minutes later, I heard his key in the door.

Mr. S.P. called out and I asked him to come upstairs as I needed his opinion on something. I heard him making his way up the stairs, so I pushed my chest out and pulled my stomach in. The second he clocked me, I could see his eyes light up an I'd knew I'd won. I stood up and gave him a twirl, he hot-footed it up the last flight of stairs, said "wow" and grabbed me by the waist. He pulled me in and kissed me, before making me twirl for him again. He led me to the bedroom, pushed me onto the bed and began kissing my neck. I'd definitely won. He pulled out the condoms, slipped one on and slid inside me before I could even muster the words "fuck me".

Still in my outfit and heels, the sex was incredibly passionate. I could see how excited Mr. S.P. was and it didn't take much longer for him to come. Although I didn't have an orgasm, I was just pleased to have had my way. Men are so predictable, that it took little thought or effort to make him change his mind. We joked about it afterwards but that wasn't the end of it...

A few days later, Mr. S.P. came over to my place for the night. Strangely, we didn't have sex that evening but, at the time, I put it down to tiredness and being in a real relationship, where your libido drops and sex dwindles. After all, he is seventeen years older than me. I went to sleep thinking I'd get my fix in the morning.

As soon as I woke up, I started giving Mr. S.P. little kisses, hoping that his morning glory would turn into something more pleasurable for both of us. But he had other ideas and turned away, mumbling something about needing a lie in. I wasn't happy. Was this pay back for my art of seduction that I had meticulously planned the other day? Was he really that worried about it? Or did he just feel he could now stop pretending to act like a guy seventeen years his junior to keep up with me?

I sat up in bed and began reading my book, but after half an hour of page turning whilst running out of time before I had to head to work, I decided enough was enough and headed into the shower. As soon as I emerged, Mr. S.P. told me we need to talk and that I wouldn't like it. I immediately thought he was going to dump me, and so I embraced myself for the inevitable.

"I think you've given me genital warts" were the words that poured out of Mr. S.P.'s mouth. He then continued to tell me how he could have only got it from me, as he'd not slept with anyone else. I stood in front of him; wet, naked and open-mouthed. The first thing that popped into my head was that I hadn't noticed that I ever had genital warts. Then I realised, I didn't have genital warts. I'd only been to the doctor to be tested for STDs two weeks earlier and I was given the all clear.

When I told Mr. S.P. about my trip to the gynaecologist, he quizzed me about what, exactly, I was tested for. When I told him I had several tests but I wasn't sure what each one was for, he flipped.

"Oh that's just so typical of you, isn't it? You go to the doctor to get tested and you don't think to ask what you're getting tested for!"

It was at this point I wanted to slap him, but I turned away and counted to ten before giving him a piece of my mind. Mr. S.P. continued to the lay the blame on me and then he told me to look at him whilst he was talking to me. Was I eight years old being told off by my dad? It certainly felt like it, but I guess this is what I get for dating a single-dad who is almost two decades my senior.

Mr. S.P. then demanded I inspect the 'genital wart', pulling away the duvet and grabbing his member. I rolled my eyes, asking myself what the hell I was doing and why I, a girl who had never had genital warts, was inspecting my new boyfriend's penis for a suspect zit. I agreed to take a look, but there was nothing except a small red dot on the shaft. It certainly wasn't a wart and it didn't look like a sore. Yep, I'd been accused of giving Mr. S.P. genital warts when all he had was a bloody zit on his cock. If this is what a relationship is, I don't want it.

Being the hypochondriac that he is, Mr. S.P. moaned and moaned about this tiny spot as though it were terminal cancer. There was nothing I could say or do to reassure him, so I let him bang on about it, whilst I remained silent. I'm sure this was his way of punishing me because the condom broke. It was him trying to point out how careless I am, how mature he is and how we must abstain. Obviously, we didn't have sex that morning (the accusation of me giving him genital warts totally ruined the moment) and I wouldn't be seeing him for another eight weeks, as he was heading to Europe for his summer holiday, so it was going to be a long, dry summer in the desert for me!

Funnily enough, a couple of weeks later, Mr. S.P. told me the 'genital wart' had miraculously disappeared without treatment. I didn't receive an apology though, but it's definitely something I'll be bringing up when I next see him. I refuse to be a scapegoat for every health issue he has. I might be careless, but I still have my health and my youth on my side...