What follows is my first letter to Henry in the London based gay magazine reFRESH. Appearing each issue, tackling relationship issues and written in a "Dear John" format, Henry - like a bad rash - just won't go away.

LET'S CALL IT SPLITS

Dear Henry,

It pains me to have to write this letter but you've given me no choice. It hurts so much because I bent over backwards…and forwards for that matter…and yet you never gave me an inch. I'm sorry, that's not true. You almost gave me 5.5 inches but I didn't penalize you for that.

You have to admit, our initial meeting was like a fairy tale. If you recall, we romantically met in a chat room online. I told you that I was a former gymnast, kind of average looking, a successful writer and somewhere between 31 and death. And you told me how tall, dark and handsome you were and that you were 38 and then we exchanged pictures.

But I didn't hold it against you when we met in person at that charming café and you ordered a coke and vodka and discovered you were short, light and a bit quirky looking. And the fact that you were older than you said didn't faze me at all. With Internet age, you always add on an extra five years. But I was a bit surprised when I realized the photo you sent me was not your picture. Heck, I've only seen one Colin Farrell movie so I thought it could have been you. Call me madcap, but I think that was bit deceitful.

One must admit though we both felt a lot of chemistry right away and at the end of that first date I'm glad we didn't jump right into bed. It felt mature that we took our time getting to know one another and held off on having sex. To give in to lust and temptation would have felt cheap and easy. I'm glad we waited till the second date.

Some may have thought that your food eccentricities might be a turn off but not me. I have never met anyone before who would only eat white food. But as long as you're getting all your nutrients, why not? White rice, white cheese, white milk, white cauliflower, white beans, white bread, boiled chicken. (But the chicken did look a bit more gray than white.) That's a hard food group to work with. I'm proud of the surprise dinner I came up with but am sorry that some parsley landed on your plate and ruined the meal for you.

And did I judge you when we visited my friend Jon's house in the country for the weekend and you brought along your formal wear? If you find standing in the middle of his pool, soaking wet in an Armani suit hot and sexy, I say, "Go for it." Although, you might want to be a bit more practical and invest in less expensive suits. One dunk and it's ruined. We all know that you telemarketers don't make a lot of money.

And didn't you say when we first met you were versatile? If you are, you're doing it with someone other than me. You're not a top. You're not a bottom. You're a side. I was willing to meet you half way but instead you made me do all the work. I can see your face right now. You're making that combination condescending smirk slash frown. I'm not being critical, just honest.

But I worked through all of that and I know that relationships take time and patience and sometimes compromise. So when you asked me if I was into leather, something that's never been on my sexual "to do" list, I thought to myself, "Be open. Why not give it a try? Especially if it will make him happy." I actually started having visions of leather harnesses, biker jackets and even hooded masks. Just the thought of the smell of leather was beginning to turn me on.

Hence, the night we planned our fetish adventure I was completely psyched and ready to explore new worlds and facets of my sexual being. And to experience it for the first time with you meant so much to me. But I was at a total loss when you showed up at my place empty handed and then went rummaging through my closet. And what did you pull out? A pair of dusty leather tassel loafers.

The devilish look on your face when you discovered them, the glimmer in your eye, the heavy breathing was all quite confusing not to mention disturbing. I remember, you brought the shoes over to me and asked, "Are you passionate about slip-ons?" And I thought to myself, "A slip-on dildo, maybe but an old shoe?" You were practically drooling over that pigskin and honestly it was uncomfortable for me to watch you sodomize them. I had to leave the bedroom so you and the pair could finish your business. I've heard of threesomes but this was ridiculous. And I'll never forget what you screamed at me from the bedroom. "You're jealous, aren't you?"

I may be guilty of being jealous of other people's money, careers or even looks but I'm not jealous of my own pair of shoes. By the way, you ruined the leather. I think it's only fair that you financially compensate me for it.

Henry, I think it's best if we part ways. When in relationships, whether they be with family, friends or loved ones, we all must be adaptable. How can you ask me to be free as the wind and go with the flow when you yourself are so stiff and rigid? Actually, it would have been nice if you did get stiff and rigid. But I'm not one to hold grudges.

And in life, we constantly have to switch gears. Just remember to use the clutch. And stay flexible. Hell, I can still do my splits. Can you?

All the best,
Arthur