I was left feeling like a dirty, filthy homosexual after my recent trip to see the doctor. One thing I’ve never felt about my gay sex life is shame, but this new doctor nearly pushed me to it.

I don’t relish making an appointment with the doctor and usually only go if it’s absolutely necessary – i.e. something’s either hanging off or turned a weird colour. It didn’t help my mood that I was forced to wait for over half an hour for my appointment without any warning, and then, when it was my turn, having to see a new face rather than my own doctor because of a mix-up.

At first I wondered if this artificially smiling woman, who kept shaking my hand and welcoming me, was some kind of hospitality bot. She sat close to me, still smiling, and addressing me in that patronising, bed-side manner that only doctors practice.

“So, tell me what’s the matter…”

I was still describing my symptoms when she started to mouse through my records on her monitor. I had just about finished when her whole posture shifted to a more upright position and her expression, although still smiling, seemed to switch to a stonier one.

“Are you sexually active?” she asked, out of the blue.

“Er, yes, well, I’m in a relationship.”

“Do you sleep with men or women?” (Notice she put ‘men’ first).

“I have a boyfriend.”

“Hmmm, but have you had different sexual partners recently?” she continued.

“I’ve been in a steady relationship for the past two years!” I protested.

“I think you should visit a sexual health clinic,” was her final response – and I only went in with a bad back.

After I continued to protest that I am in a monogamous relationship and have not put myself at risk, she, rather viciously, fired a comment at me about how she gets longtime-married women visiting her (note: upstanding heterosexuals, as opposed to germ-spreading gays) with symptoms that turn out to be STIs, and they can’t understand it.

Yes, I know exactly what she was insinuating: that I can’t possibly know where my boyfriend has been sticking it, and, being another untrustworthy, queer pervert, it’s most likely he’s been fucking coach-loads of men behind my back.

I left that appointment feeling very angry and without a diagnosis. After she realised I wasn’t going so quietly, she did spend ten minutes leisurely clicking through her online, help manual, but the bottom line was still that I should go to the gay mens’ sex clinic rather than take up her precious time that could be spent treating deserving people.

It is scary that judgmental, narrow-minded people like this are out there acting on some kind of self-written, moral code when they should be helping people. I have thought about complaining. I certainly won’t be visiting this particular doctor again. I can’t remember a time when someone has tried to make me feel small like that just because I have gay sex – do you know how many times I had to fuck Rich to get over it?!