One:
Not everyone is looking for someone, not on a permanent basis anyway. I wasn’t. What I’d had with James suited me. We fitted the model of friends with benefits to a T. We shared similar tastes in films, books and politics. He was tall, handsome in an understated way and almost eleven years older than me.
On the whole I prefer dating older men, not because I’m looking for a father figure or a sugar daddy to cosset and spoil me. I don’t need any of that. I’m an independent guy. I look after myself. My preference for older men is because they tend to be uncomplicated. They know who they are and what they want from life. They’re also less emotionally demanding than men my own age or younger. I don’t need a Daddy and I don’t want to be one.
James and I didn’t live in each other’s pockets. We met up once or twice a week, occasionally more, work schedules permitting, and enjoyed each other’s company. We talked and broke bread together, and yeah, we had sex, plenty of hot no strings attached sex. It was a great arrangement, if slightly unconventional, but perhaps that’s what made it so good.
Then James met Kye and fell in love with him, just like that, in the snap of a finger and thumb. It didn’t break my heart, but it did break our arrangement. James wanted to commit to Kye lock stock and barrel. It astonished me. He’d always said he didn’t want or need the complications of a permanent relationship. Cosy domesticity with a single clingy mate was not for him. For some reason Kye changed his mind. James described it as ‘clicking.’ Something clicked and fell into place from the moment they met.
At twenty-five Kye was the same age as me. The similarities ended there. He was needy in a way I wasn’t. He wanted all of James’s time and attention. He demanded cosseting and compliments and wanted to be constantly pampered, petted and reassured. James seemed to lap it up. He and I reverted to being friends without benefits.
I didn’t resent Kye. He was sweet in his way and it was obvious he made James happy. I was more than pleased to be best man at their Civil Partnership Ceremony. I considered it an honour to be asked. They both had plenty of other friends who could have fulfilled the role.
As I watched them cutting their celebration cake at the reception afterwards I was surprised when I experienced a stirring of something I couldn’t define. Perhaps I’d been more emotionally attached to James than I’d thought? No. I dismissed the idea as soon as it arose. The feeling wasn’t envy, and it wasn’t sadness or regret. It was just - something. I was, I searched to find words to fit the feeling, but the only thing that came to mind was ‘puzzled.’
The love thing between the two of them puzzled me. I hadn’t been in love with James. I had never been in love with anyone. I loved my family, my mum and sister anyway, but I had never been in love with another man in a romantic sense. What did love have to do with anything? I understood friendship. I understood sex. I didn’t get ‘romantic love.’ It seemed an unnecessary and complicated emotion. What made James suddenly fall in love with Kye and want to spend a conventional lifetime with him and only him? It was a conundrum to me.
We all stayed friends, to a degree. I suddenly realised Kye wasn’t entirely comfortable when I was around. A shade of anxiety clouded his large Bambi eyes whenever I came on the scene. I think he’d guessed about the benefits I’d once shared with James and feared they might rekindle. There wasn’t a chance of it happening, but in respect of his feelings I distanced myself from them, literally. I moved to another town.
Two:
I moved into the
bakery on the first day of the summer break from the sixth form college I
taught at. James and Kye helped me and another friend of mine load my
furniture and heavier possessions into a borrowed van. Tony, the friend,
was to drive the van to the bakery and help me unload it. I packed the
boot of my car full of smaller things, clothes and boxes of books, media
ware and other small treasures I’d collected over time. Taking my leave
of James and Kye with handshakes and good wishes, I set off ahead of the
van.
As
I drove away, I glanced in my rearview mirror and saw Kye put his arms
around James to deliver a kiss. I got a strong feeling it was a kiss of
relief, as well as a claiming kiss. James was all his at last, not that
he’d ever been anything else. He’d certainly never been mine. I trained
my eyes on the road ahead.
It
was a mossy day, green and verdant, quintessentially English. Soft
summer rain flowed tepid from a grey-blue sky, enhancing the scents of
grass, flowers and warm earth. It was delicate rain, but drenching all
the same.
The
bakery loomed into sight, the soft cream and green tiles gleaming with
moisture. As I drove my car towards the residents’ private car park at
the rear of the building, I spotted someone sitting cross-legged on the
grassed area fronting the bakery. It was a man dressed in shorts and a
t-shirt. His head was tilted skyward, as if to allow the rain to wash it.
It seemed an odd thing to be doing.
After
parking my car, I hurried into the building using the rear entrance. I
decided to leave my boxes and bags in the car until the rain cleared.
Walking up the stairs to my apartment I paused outside the door for a
moment and then ceremoniously inserted my key and pushed it open. A
small surge of excitement swept over me. I experienced a real sense of
being home. This was it, my place, befitting a professional.
Closing
the door behind me, I viewed my new kingdom. It looked big and empty.
Excitement wavered. I felt a small knot of tearful anxiety twist my
stomach. Taking a deep breath, I successfully quenched it with words
I used to comfort new students who were struggling with the transition
from school to college. It was normal to feel apprehensive when starting
a new phase of life.
Moving
across to the large picture windows in the living room, I looked out,
admiring the view of the front gardens. He was still there, the rain
man, sitting on the grass, only now he had his arms stretched out in
front of him, his hands cupped as if to catch the falling drops. It was
eccentric behaviour, to say the least. I wondered who he was and whether
he lived in the building, perhaps with his parents. His dress and stance
suggested youth, though of course I couldn’t see his face. He had his
back to my window.
A vehicle turned in to the drive, dragging my attention away from the saturated figure. It was Tony. Grabbing my keys, I hastened out to greet him and to help begin the unloading of my belongings. There was no lift in the building, so everything would have to be lugged up the two short flights of stairs leading to the top floor. Both stairs and corridor were generously wide, so it wouldn’t be too hard a task.
Tony
pushed open the van door and jumped out, grinning. “Did you know you’ve
got some kind of drippy hippy child sitting on the front grass
meditating in the rain?”
“Yeah, I saw him when I drove in.”
“Who is it?”
“No idea. Come on, let’s get started.” I playfully punched Tony on the shoulder.