I’ve never been good at storytelling. But he was too nice to be true, so it looked like a fairy tale first. That was so good that reminded me that joke about the man of your dream: you meet the man of your dream, he’s smart, handsome, he has a very well-paid job and well established in his career; he invites you to the best restaurants and buys you beautiful flowers every day; he dances perfectly and your mom is crazy about him; he kisses you and says he would be happy if you become his wife, BUT NO SEX BEFORE IT; you are happy and you agree on anything to get the man you had been dreaming of all your life; wedding and all the first night blah blah and suddenly bah: a really HUGE picture of his really SMALL penis.

I recalled this story when I met him. He was really something. He invited me to the places I’d never been before (and probably will never be again) and paid for everything I wanted. Well, almost for everything, because I usually felt embarrassed about asking him of anything. I was really happy. I was thinking: does he have any, at least tiny skeleton in his closet? Why is he so nice to me and why is he almost altruistically kind?

The more I fell into him, the less I trusted in our relationships. Something was definitely wrong about the whole thing between us. I thought that he was married initially and even found a private eye to follow him, but he was clean about that. Then I thought he could be kind of a sexual freak, but one my friend who was a cop said he had never been fined for anything, including those ‘terrible things you are talking about’. ‘Relax and have fun if you like each other,’ he added.

So I eventually relaxed and decided to wait for the developments. Meanwhile, he was hooking me more and more and one day I woke up with the thought that I am ready for THAT to happen between us.

It was supposed to happen that very night, I was just sure about that, because all was more than perfect. And really reminded me that silly joke. Perfect dining out, flowers, he kisses me in the cab and we are moving towards his apartment and eventually towards his bed. And suddenly bah: he asks me to wait for some time while he would ‘take a bath’. Yeah, the right moment to do that.

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I was bored enough to wait for him, watching TV (!) and counting to 100 again and again. He appeared in about 20 minutes (what was he doing there, I wonder) but had a really strange look. Flushed cheeks also contributed to suspicion. He was kinda wild or something. But he was really good in bed, I mean it, we did it 4 (!) times through the night and stopped because I begged him to stop.

It’s not my fault really that I am so curious. I asked him what took him so long in the shower when we woke up in his bed in the morning. He explained it in a single word: Viagra. I didn’t ask anything after that. In fact, I know everything about it now, after I became his wife. My husband has erectile dysfunction. That’s why he has to take Viagra or anything from the company. And I try to support him in everything he does. Even in taking vitamins!

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