“It’s like they think we don’t have sex at all,” I complained down the phone to my friend, as I boarded the bus to go home from a sexual health checkup in which I’d been reminded, many times, that the service didn’t cater to the needs of people such as me.
Ready to give my mate the full account of what had happened, I realised that maybe my fellow passengers didn’t want to be subjected to this story. So I reluctantly said my goodbyes, sat down and gathered my thoughts.
