All roads lead to Rome.

Or wherever you both happen to be walking at the time.

Letting go does not equate to losing, it just feels that way.

In an affair black is never white.

It’s off white.

If you can touch it see it or feel it; then burn it.

To be 100% certain you will have to turn your computer into atoms.

Guilt cannot be shared.

So keep it to yourself.

You earned it, you enjoy it.

Eichmann was following orders; you follow animal urges.

Once you give up your morals you will never get them back.

Fruit salad goes with absolutely everything.

If your love was a mile wide then it was probably only an inch deep.

Congratulations you are now an affair veteran!

No one will ever understand what your saw in him, her or it.

It would be easier to stop the Crucifixion with a BAR and 5000 rounds of ammunition.

Never throw your phone into the river, it may bounce.

You will come to believe that swimming the English Channel only takes jumping off the end of a pier.

And you will come to understand that swimming the English Channel takes a lot more than just jumping off the end of a pier.

Sometimes ending is better than mending.

The best things in life are free. But you cannot afford the down payment.

When there is absolutely nothing more left to sacrifice the affair will end.

Withdrawal from crack cocaine is probably just as painful.

You will tell millions of lies. Sometimes you will tell the truth.

Thumbelina is not the most beautiful name for a little girl. But it’s damn close.

You will be able to identify the exact moment your affair jumped the shark.

As your affair comes to an end you may find yourself planning the next one.

Affair grief and alcohol do not mix.

Everybody knows when something is wrong.

You are only ever making a banquet from crumbs.Cybersex is really just Mills and Boon with a pulse.

Okay a heavy pulse.

Water and electronic devices never mix.

Everybody wants a hug.

Everyone has a hidden talent for creative accounting.

You may come to rue the day this person rose from the sea.

I am not an IQ test.

I am a person.

So don’t try sticking objects into me.

Fake suicides aren't really funny.

An affair is like being on a permanent honeymoon. Not that l would ever know.

Sex with a vagina is no more stimulating than sex with an ashtray.

Or even the angle between two walls.

You will lose all interest in Internet porn overnight.

Only once in a lifetime will you find yourself in the exact perfect place, at the exact perfect time, with the exact perfect person.

And all you will remember at the time is how you stubbed your toe.

Fools gold looks and feels just the same as real gold. So you just keep pretending.

It will all end badly.

Nothing is ever worthwhile.

The love you feel for your affair partner is intoxicating and at the same time you will be capable of carrying out the greatest, most vile betrayal imaginable and not even bat an eye.

The self confidence that you get from your affair partner goes into deficit once the affair ends.

You cannot ‘take the best and forget the rest’. It doesn't work that way.

Getting what you want is always the bigger tragedy.

At the start of an affair all logic goes out the window. Or even The Doors.

You work on your affair for eighteen hours a day at minimum wage.

When the affair ends you want to die.

During the affair you have absolutely no jealousy or guilt.

After the affair it may be hard to feel guilty about not feeling guilty.

At no stage do you ever believe that what you are doing is wrong.

You will develop tunnel vision.

Your bullshit detector will be permanently disabled.

Your moral compass will always point south.

Your pesky inner ear will be on holiday somewhere

.A cigar is never just a cigar.

During the affair your partner will be everything you want them to be.

And your spouse will be everything you need them to be.

The most romantic sentence in the world will always begin with, ‘I have never told this to anyone before’.

And the least romantic sentence begins with, 'there is something l need to tell you'.

During the affair you will know how a drug monkey feels.

After the affair you will know how an unemployed drug monkey feels.

During the affair you will both laugh about killing anyone in your way.

After the affair you will cry over the memory of a cheap, unhealthy breakfast, hand delivered in a greasy brown paper bag.

Absolutely everybody loves ‘Breaking Bad’.

Having James Gandolfini drop dead on your birthday at exactly the same age does wonders for your fallen arches and shot tendons.

Always have a plausible, defensible and perfectly reasonable explanation depending on locale.

In Melbourne it’s traffic.

If you really looked hard enough you could say that John Holmes and Marilyn Chambers were living in a sexless marriage.

Not getting something is never an excuse.

If three psychiatrists tell you the same thing get a second opinion.

You are not entitled to full access to another person's body ever.

Nothing is private these days.

You will develop a sudden interest in wacky religious cults.

Everybody likes kids, wants kids or wishes they had had kids.

Adrenaline is the most powerful aphrodisiac.

Delete! Delete! Delete!

An affair should never be on anyone’s bucket list.

You can never be the same afterwards. Something changes inside you.

You will come to realize that your affair partner was probably not a life option.

You can never go back to square one. You have to go back to square zero.

Everything in life is temporary.

The same piece of music that previously evoked happiness will forevermore evoke feelings of sadness, hopelessness, bitterness and alienation.

Emotions are very powerful things.

You can never go back there.

Time heals nothing; it’s what you do with the time that counts.

It was early autumn and the trees were almost bare.

The White Queen was leaning against the tallest one holding a pear plucked off the branch behind her head. She took a bite and chewed slowly, as she watched a gang of schoolgirls walk by. One of the shorter ones had her hair in a tight braid and it reminded her of the black leather thonging on the Red Queens Roman sandals. Once she had finished her snack she tossed the stem into a rubbish bin and retraced her steps out of the square and back up the hill. The ruined power station loomed ahead of her and she was suddenly conscious of her aching back and thighs. The White Queen was painfully thin and she had to lean up against another tree while she caught her breath. There was a tight little lump on her left side, sperm which had been injected into the front chamber of her womb by some anonymous user.

Flooding her Fallopian tubes and filling an ovary. It would have to be massaged out soon.

And the pain would be excruciating.

But first she needed to see to her nest.

It was coming up on the left.

The White Queen hitched up her dress and staggered into the abandoned car park. It was cold and windswept. At the far end was a door leading to janitor’s storeroom. She had discovered it a month earlier while scouting out locations.

It was small and nondescript.

With one compensation.

It was very warm.

She removed the shopping trolleys and broken hoardings which had camouflaged its entrance and checked the lock on the door. There had been some unsolved break-ins reported in the newspaper and she was terrified that a gang of youths or some vagrant might have broken in, while searching out for copper fixtures and electrical cables. Once she was satisfied that all was in order, she replaced the camouflage and set off back down the hill towards her motel room. She felt like she needed a sleep and a hot shower, though not in that order.

She ate a small meal in the downstairs bistro and drank two glasses of champagne, before returning to her room. She put the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door and crawled into bed. She pulled the sheets over her head.

She was unbelievably excited.

And nervous.

Later that evening she woke and slowly dressed. The Red Queen would be dining in her favourite restaurant at around ten o'clock and as usual the entire wait staff would need to be assembled half an hour earlier for a full rehearsal. Only a handful of people were ever allowed to get near her. Her movements were always carefully choreographed, so as to maximise her opportunities for self-aggrandisement and self-promotion.

The White Queen knew that bodyguards would have already checked the exits and decided on possible escape routes, before moving on to inspect the kitchen.

She however, had given herself a pass and pulled a baseball cap down over her face, once she had checked out the rest of her outfit in the mirror. The baseball cap was red and silver and had a pair of crossed spoons on the front of it, with a logo that read, “Tracy’s Quality Catering". She closed the door of her motel room after leaving a modest tip for the cleaning staff, who would no doubt be horrified by what they were going to find on the mattress the next morning.

There could be no turning back now.

Her blood was up.

The car she had decided to steal yesterday was a drab olive bakers van with worn tires and cancer of the rocker panels. From a distance it had looked like a small, tired dog and was still parked where she had found it. The owner had finally remembered to take the key from the ignition, so she started it with a large hairpin. It was a trick her best friend in school had mastered and the memory of it startled her into laughter. The White Queen first adjusted her seat and then the angle of the steering wheel. She looked at the controls as if mesmerised, like an oxen standing in front of a signpost smeared with phosphorus. The heater was broken and she found a blanket underneath the passenger seat. It was caked in biscuit crumbs and frosted with glucose. She draped it across her shoulders and slowly pressed the accelerator pedal.

Halfway down the street she noticed a wet smear of condensed milk on the plastic tunnel covering the tail shaft.

The White Queen had a weakness for condensed milk. She reached down with her fingers and brought the tacky fragment up to her lips. The sweetness delighted her. There were cars all around now.

There were bright lights and loud noises. The White Queen was fascinated by bright lights and car crashes. She hoped there was more condensed milk in the car. It reminded her of her own vaginal secretions.

It was getting colder now. She pulled the blanket tight around her shoulders.

And steered the bakers van toward the centre of town.

Like some small, ill-mannered pig.

The Red Queen was holding court in her favourite restaurant, surrounded by her closest friends and most trusted advisors. She also loved to surround herself with the colours red, black and purple. She only ever wore black dresses with red or purple underwear.

And gold jewellery.

She was a strict vegetarian, who it was rumoured drank a pint of her own urine every morning.

For the complexion.

She was President of one of the world’s most powerful corporations. The business brains and overlord of an empire that stretched from New York to the Andes. She had run for office on five separate occasions and had lost every time. She was one of the most despised and ridiculed women on earth.

And could never understand why.

Her friends and colleagues were terrified of her and her black rages.

And insane party tricks.

Once she had asked everyone at the table to guess the next day's maximum temperature. And reassembled them the following evening. And then told them that the person who had made the least accurate forecast was going to be put in the gas chamber. The gas chamber turned out to be the staff toilet at the back of the restaurant. It had a defective water seal and always stank abominably. Sometimes the Red Queen would make sure she had gone in there first.

And she even had her own newspaper.

Which she used to humiliate and persecute her rivals.

The evening began as usual.

First everyone was seated. And then the Red Queen arrived. And everyone started clapping. The Red Queen always insisted on bringing a random waiter to the table. Who would become her food taster. And occasionally her lover. The Red Queen also liked to eat hard boiled eggs. Because she was sure eggs couldn't be poisoned. The Red Queen was insane. And no one ever dared criticise her table manners.

Because it was safer not to. So right in the middle of the first course she stood up and told the table,

"Before I start this meal...I had better get rid of the one l had last night"!

And toddled off towards the restroom.

 Her guards would be standing outside. Keeping her safe inside.

When the White Queen arrived at the restaurant earlier that evening she had noticed the open window of the ladies toilet at the back of the premises.

And the empty coca cola crates stacked underneath. There was a bundle of cardboard boxes which had been crushed for recycling. The plastic strapping was bright blue in colour. It was also very strong. She had read in the newspaper about an island the size of Scotland in the middle of the ocean.

That tides and currents had constructed from cigarette butts, shopping bags and spent condoms.

And blue plastic strapping.

This island would last for a thousand years. Longer than most civilisations. The White Queen grabbed two generous handfuls and stuffed them into her shoulder bag. She was wearing a purple satin dress and red stockings. With matching gold accessories. And the baseball cap. No makeup or perfume.

The White Queen hated perfume.

She walked over to the back door of the kitchen. The head chef was sitting on a plastic orange crate outside. He had an enormous gut and was idly flicking through a porno mag while smoking a cigarette. He looked at her through heavily lidded eyes.

Without saying a single word.

For a full ten seconds.

During which he silently ogled every inch of her body.

 "What happened to Tracy"?

 "She's sick. The agency sent me instead".

 "So what's your name"?

"Persuasion".

 "Is that your first or last name"?

 "It's both".

 "That's just fucking wonderful".

He motioned her towards him with a finger and dropped a small key on the ground beneath his feet, then went back to his magazine. She bent down to pick it up and saw the title of the article he was reading, "Is Your Sex Drive Manual or Automatic?”

Definitely manual.....the White Queen thought.

Once inside the kitchen, she made her way to the waiter’s station and grabbed a large linen basket on wheels that was half full of dirty napkins and table cloths. The basket was made of closely woven wicker and easily big enough to hide a large shaggy dog.

Or even a White Queen.

She crawled in and closed the lid behind her.

It didn't smell very nice.

 It reminded her of home.

She pulled the table cloths over her head and tried to remain perfectly still. She knew she would have to hide for the next two hours. In absolute silence. She still felt nauseous and bloated. She wondered if you could be about to give birth and having a period at the same time. Her own body was like a crazy science experiment. She didn't understand the workings. She only followed its orders. She was still exhausted. She wanted to fall asleep. And dream about her own family.

Which had been scattered more cruelly than the tribes of Israel.

 "Where are you going with that?"

 "Ladies restroom and then the laundry, the Red Queen is about to arrive and there was someone with diarrhoea in there before".

 "Well make sure you change the towels for Christ's sake. And leave that basket in there. Just in case. That fat fuck has put tuna surprise on the menu.....again".

The security guard went back to his magazine and the White Queen continued pushing the basket down the hallway. Once inside she checked the toilet stalls to see if they were unoccupied and then pushed the basket against the far wall. Opposite the large ornate mirror.

She was setting a trap.

For an ugly machine.

She crawled back into the basket and pulled the lid down behind her. She felt like Sean Connery. In a weird 1970s science fiction film she had once seen on an airplane. She thought that Sean Connery had made a 'shitty cowboy'.

The Red Queen walked into the Ladies restroom and noticed the basket against the wall. It was something she hadn't seen before. She nervously looked around and re-checked the lock on the door. She walked over to the first toilet stall, then changed her mind and went back to the mirror. The Red Queen had always thought that she was the most attractive woman in the world. She had even launched her own brand of perfume and toiletries. Even her favourite dish was one of her creations. Made from lumps of dough, deep fried.

She grabbed a lipstick from her pocket and pursed her mouth into the shape of a perfect 'O'. She blew out her cheeks and started making happy farting sounds. The White Queen woke up from in the middle of her dream. This one strangely, had been about a homeless sleepy seal.

She pushed the table cloths away and checked her shoulder bag. She threw back the lid of the basket with a crash and launched her attack with self-assurance. In two strides she was at the Red Queens side. The Red Queen was still holding the lipstick. It was a very expensive lipstick. Made from the earwax of unicorns. She didn't want to lose it. The White Queen grabbed her hand and twisted it. She dropped the lipstick and it rolled away on the floor. She couldn't see where it had rolled to.

 The Red Queen began to struggle. She was a lot stronger in real life than in fiction. The White Queen applied more pressure to her wrist and started to twist it. The Red Queen lashed out with a handful of lacquered talons. She caught the White Queen square across the side of her face.

 "You bitch.....you fucking, fucking bitch"!

The White Queen grabbed her neck and slammed her head into the mirror. It didn't break. She reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out the first syringe. The Red Queen was struggling and trying to call out. The White Queen jammed the fingers of her left hand down her throat, all the way to the second knuckle. The Red Queen coughed and started to gag. While the White Queen stabbed her between the shoulder blades.

And pressed down on the plunger. The syringe contained a mild anaesthetic, a mixture of procaine and octopamine.

The effect was immediate. The Red Queen collapsed against the vanity basin, while the White Queen tried to break her fall. She landed on her back with the White Queens arms half around her neck and shoulders. She had to hurry now. The first syringe would only last a few minutes. She tried to roll the Red Queen onto her stomach. The Red Queen had started struggling again and lashed out with both feet. Her black dress was riding up and the White Queen saw some strands of tawny hair. Like a tuft of a lions mane. She caught a powerful kick from her left foot which propelled her halfway to the door. The Red Queen was now crawling away. The White Queen grabbed both her ankles and twisted one of them.

 "You fucking bitch, you fucking bitch.....I'll kill you, I'll fucking kill you.....Fucking bitch, crazy fucking bitch"!

The White Queen sat on her head. She could feel her vulva making contact with the top of the scalp. She hoped the Red Queen was smelling her crotch. She reached into her shoulder bag for the second syringe.

It was smaller.

With a long needle.

She grabbed a handful of the Red Queens hair and exposed the skin near the base of her skull. She found the exact spot and pressed the tip of the syringe against the skin, while slowly applying pressure. The Red Queen let out a long moan as the needle penetrated muscle and bone. It was a very precise sting. It lasted for over a minute. She slowly withdrew the needle, which was followed by a small spurt of arterial blood. This startled and worried her. She took out a panty liner from her shoulder bag and tore away at the wrapper. She pressed the adhesive side to the back of the Red Queens head and applied a strong even pressure. Outside the ladies restroom the restaurant patrons were enjoying themselves. She could hear someone trying to sing Happy Birthday. In E Minor. There was a huge crash in the kitchen. More plates for someone to sweep up later. She checked the panty liner. The bleeding had stopped.

 She stood up and waited for the Red Queen to recover. She was going to have to get her through the toilet window and down the alleyway. Then through the main square and up the hill. To the ruined power station. The Red Queen was standing now. Her face was without expression. She turned away from her captor and calmly walked over to the mirror. And then started grooming herself. And massaging the tiny mark at the back of her head. It felt warm to her touch.

 The White Queen was overjoyed. She jumped into the air and stamped her tiny feet. She flung her arms around the Red Queen's neck and pulled her away from the mirror. She started kissing her forehead, her nose and eyebrows. The Red Queen said nothing and the White Queen noticed her face had turned numb and greasy, as if from excessive masturbation. She then started kissing her neck and left shoulder, whispering words of encouragement into her ear.

She stood between the Red Queen and the mirror and slowly massaged her breasts, encouraging the release of progesterone and oxycontin. They were only inches apart and the White Queen slid the Red Queen's dress off her shoulders, then watched as her heavy breasts tumbled forwards. She grabbed a fistful of hair and led the Red Queen into one of the empty toilet stalls. The Red Queen seemed totally unaware of her new surroundings and was happy to continue with her obsessive grooming. One hand was rubbing the puncture mark at the back of her head, the other held an ivory hair brush.

The White Queen sat down on the commode and pulled the Red Queen closer. She noticed a small scar underneath her right nipple, a tiny notch possibly designed to hold excess saliva or semen. Her other breast was similarly scared and she wondered if this was the result of her earlier, unsuccessful sexual re-assignment surgery. She looked down at her own décolletage and saw it was just as before, the gap between her small, long nippled breasts as immaculate as the natal cleft of a plastic doll. She reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out a Snickers bar. It was a limited edition bar with a hard caramel centre. She broke it in half and offered some to the Red Queen.

The Red Queen closed her eyes and let out a happy sigh, while the White Queen slowly chewed on the smaller piece, replenishing her body with sugar, fat and lipids. The Red Queen was now attempting to replace her lipstick, making clumsy hand movements which left a hieroglyph of markings across the wall directly above the White Queens head. She was scribbling away like a demented air crash investigator, obsessively marking and re-marking all possible targets and their impact points.

The White Queen stood up from the commode and continued to plant kisses all over the Red Queen. She pulled her dress back up to her shoulders and helped the Red Queen with her mascara. She squeezed her hand and smiled. The Red Queen squeezed back even harder and started laughing. She had never felt so happy before. She giggled when the White Queen knelt down and removed one of her shoes and then used it to smash the louvres in the toilet window.

The Red Queen had never broken anything. Others had done the cutting and breaking for her. The White Queen grabbed her and led her to the jagged opening. She climbed on top of the linen basket and then helped the Red Queen do the same. She carefully put one leg through the opening. Her other leg followed and the Red Queen caught a brief glimpse of her dark haired crotch. Once she was safely through she led her captive back down the wall using the empty coca cola crates as steps. The alleyway was dark and almost silent. There was a karaoke machine nearby and someone was singing an Elton John number.

It seemed somehow appropriate.

The Red Queen was in a trance. She had been injected in the centre of her basal ganglia with a mixture of gamma amino-butyric acid and beta-alanine. Her escape reflex was now disabled. She was happy to be led by her hair up the steep hill towards the ruined power station. The White Queen was a shrewd toxicologist. She had precisely calculated the dose needed to bring on torpor and mental paralysis, while leaving the vital organs unaffected.

It was now getting close to midnight. The White Queen nervously fumbled with the padlock and then opened the door. She lit a candle stub and placed it in the neck of a wine bottle at the end of the room. The Red Queen was slowly blinking, as if in anticipation of her coming entombment. She obediently raised her arms, as the White Queen lifted her dress above her shoulders, then lowered them behind her back. She didn't protest when her hands and feet were bound with the plastic strapping the White Queen had brought from the restaurant.

There were two pictures on the wall someone had torn out of a magazine; an aeroplane with a wooden propeller and a teddy bear holding some balloons. The room itself had come semi furnished with some plastic milk crates and an innerspring mattress. The mattress had an enormous brown stain at waist level, DNA evidence from a dozen or so previous users. She half walked, half crawled the Red Queen onto the mattress and rolled her over to the left side.

She reached under the edge and found a roll of grey electrical tape. She started winding it around the Red Queens mouth and eyes, leaving her ears and nostrils uncovered. There were some muffled sounds coming from underneath and her nasal secretions were already staining the blue bed-sheet. The White Queen started massaging the lump on her side as she leaned against the wall, almost delirious with pain. The Red Queen could hear her cries and shouts and suddenly became incredibly frightened. The beta alanine had reached its half-life and the last traces of procaine were leaving her body. The fog was lifting. She struggled and strained against the plastic strapping. She couldn't feel any sensation in her shoulders or fingers. Her legs were cramping up now.

 The White Queens abdomen had started distending and her breasts were covered in a purplish rash, a bloom of haematomas. She knelt over the Red Queen and pulled up her purple underpants, exposing the plump meridian of her right buttock. She squatted over her thigh and then pulled her own underpants to one side. She started straining and a thin, watery mucus began to drip from her vagina. It was followed by some bright clotted blood and several involuntary jets of urine. Her screams were deafening now. A large ripple the size of a cantaloupe was slowly making its way down through her abdomen and into her birth canal. She yelled out, 'My baby, my beautiful baby'!

 Over and over.

 While the Red Queens own urine ran off the mattress and onto the middle of the bare concrete floor. Making rainbows at the White Queens feet.

She felt it before she saw it. The tip was curved and tapered. Like a unicorns horn. It expanded in the middle. Then tapered off again. It plopped out with the sound of a million pea pods exploding. It was pale and shiny, like an enormous unripened banana. It was perfect and beautiful. It was hers. It was her baby.

It attached itself to the Red Queen and immediately put down roots. Its tendrils started to burrow through the layers of skin and fat. Searching out its own supply of sugar and lipids. Seeking 'lebensraum'. The next few hours would be critical and the White Queen lay on the mattress beside her surrogate.

Stroking her hair, breasts and shoulders. Whispering words of love and encouragement. Blowing air into her nostrils, as her breathing laboured. Dreaming of birthdays, picnics and garden sheds to come.

Until the Red Queen fell into her deep, dreamless sleep.

Early next morning the White Queen silently tiptoed out of the room. And dragged the hoardings and shopping trolleys back across the door, entombing the Red Queen and her infant. It was raining outside and the White Queen ripped off her clothes and began to wash herself under the grey sky. With girlish gaiety. She suddenly remembered a happy time from her childhood when her Father told her she was going to have vanilla ice cream. He put her in the back seat of a cab and took her to a small office on the edge of town. She was only four years old and didn't understand fear.

 She was sat down in an old green leather chair and a nurse came along and put a machine on her face. It was black and chrome and reminded her of an outboard motor.

Then she woke up years later. And she was in bed with another man and the nurse came along with the ice cream. The White Queen was screaming 'vanilla, vanilla, vanilla. And the nurse gave her strawberry ice cream and told her...'there you go....pink vanilla'!

It was a false memory.

It had never happened.

 It's over and 'done with'.

She told herself.

There were other 'memories' as well.

That she tried to suppress.

To entomb.

Her child was also entombed now.

But she knew there would be time enough to think a way out of there.

 All the time in the world.

In Our First week of dating

 My true love gave to me:

 A Bad Case of Genital Herpes

 In Our Second week of dating

 My true love gave to me:

Chlamydia

And a Bad Case of Genital Herpes

In Our Third week of dating

My true love gave to me:

Tertiary Syphilis

Chlamydia

And a Bad Case of Genital Herpes

 In Our Fourth week of dating

 My true love gave to me:

 Penile Warts

 Tertiary Syphilis

 Chlamydia

 And a Bad Case of Genital Herpes

 In Our Fifth week of dating

 My true love gave to me:

 Full…..Blown…..Aids

 Penile Warts

 Tertiary Syphilis

 Chlamydia

 And a Bad Case of Genital Herpes

 In Our Sixth week of dating

 My true love gave to me:

 Mycoplasma Genitalium

 Full…..Blown…..Aids

 Penile Warts

 Tertiary Syphilis

 Chlamydia

 And a Bad Case of Genital Herpes

In Our Seventh week of dating

My true love gave to me:

Non Specific Urethritis

 Mycoplasma Genitalium

 Full…..Blown…..Aids

 Penile Warts

 Tertiary Syphilis

 Chlamydia

 And a Bad Case of Genital Herpes

In Our Eighth week of dating

 My true love gave to me:

 Hepatitis B

 Non Specific Urethritis

 Mycoplasma Genitalium

 Full…..Blown…..Aids

 Penile Warts

 Tertiary Syphilis

 Chlamydia

 And a Bad Case of Genital Herpes

 In Our Ninth week of dating

 My true love gave to me:

 Glandular Fever

 Hepatitis B

 Non Specific Urethritis

 Mycoplasma Genitalium

 Full…..Blown…..Aids

 Penile Warts

 Tertiary Syphilis

 Chlamydia

 And a Bad Case of Genital Herpes

 In Our Tenth week of dating

 My true love gave to me:

 Trichomoniasis

 Glandular Fever

 Hepatitis B

 Non Specific Urethritis

 Mycoplasma Genitalium

 Full…..Blown…..Aids

 Penile Warts

 Tertiary Syphilis

 Chlamydia

 And a Bad Case of Genital Herpes

In Our Eleventh week of dating

 My true love gave to me:

 Bacterial Vaginosis

 Trichomoniasis

 Glandular Fever

 Hepatitis B

 Non Specific Urethritis

 Mycoplasma Genitalium

 Full…..Blown…..Aids

 Penile Warts

 Tertiary Syphilis

 Chlamydia

 And a Bad Case of Genital Herpes

 In Our Twelfth week of dating

 My true love gave to me:

 Pubic Lice

 Bacterial Vaginosis

 Trichomoniasis

 Glandular Fever

 Hepatitis B

 Non Specific Urethritis

 Mycoplasma Genitalium

 Full…..Blown…..Aids

 Penile Warts

 Tertiary Syphilis

 Chlamydia

 And a Bad Case of Genital Herpes

*darling.....there is something we need to discuss.