Chapter 20

A few months later, and Graham was at Claire's house, her little girl, Anna, had wanted to stay up late since Uncle Graham was there and he didn't come over nearly often enough, so it was all very exciting and quite a novelty.

They were eating what Claire had called a kid's supper, because it was comforting and nostalgic and she reckoned Graham needed both of those at the moment. ‘And it's easy,' she'd said earlier.

To which he'd replied, ‘That, I now realise, was my first mistake with R.' He'd taken to not using Ryan's name, instead preferring the initial, since it seemed less painful than hearing the name on his or others' lips, because inevitably he'd then remember their good times, their fight, and then their ending. Graham was resilient, but his heart couldn't have taken that much pain, so he'd done his best to forget he'd ever known R.

Just after the breakup, Sam had asked Graham what was wrong, and having noticed Ryan didn't seem to be himself, put two and two together and asked if the man who'd broken Graham's heart happened to be Ryan.

‘Yeah,' Graham had said. ‘It was R.'

‘Wanna talk about it?' Sam asked.

Graham shook his head, there didn't seem any point, besides he didn't want to put Sam in-between family and friendship. ‘Probably best for everyone if keep you out of it.' A pause and then: ‘I'll get over it.'

At the time he'd thought he would, but months later, Graham still hurt and Sam had never mentioned it again, probably grateful for not being caught in the middle.

‘You can stay up an hour later,' Claire said to her daughter now, ‘but then you're going to bed. I need to talk to Uncle Graham about some things.'

‘What things?'

‘Adult things.'

‘Have you got a boyfriend?' Anna asked him.

Graham blushed. ‘I've got three.'

Anna's eyes widened. ‘Three?'

To Claire, he said, ‘And it's exhausting!' He threw his hands in the air in emphasis.

Claire said, flashing a look that implied no more while small ears are listening, ‘Like I said, adult things.'

They finished their tea of fishfingers, chips, baked beans and potato waffles, and Graham looked at the empty bottle of wine. How had they finished all that so quickly?

Claire cleared the table, Anna sitting and talking to Graham, trying to find out about his three boyfriends. He didn't want to talk about them. Because if he told Anna he then wouldn't want to tell Claire and it was Claire who he needed to tell most. Instead, he said, ‘They're all very different.'

‘Show me a picture?' Anna asked.

Claire reappeared, carrying a Walls Viennetta on a plate, with a silver knife.

‘I used to love that as a kid. Mum never cooked, so it was a real treat.'

‘I think that's the one thing your mum did right. Not cooking. It's just an endless rotation of buying food, deciding what to eat, making food, clearing up the mess. Every. Single. Day.' Claire shook her head. ‘Sit back in your place,' she told Anna.

Anna stuck her bottom lip out, pouted briefly, then resumed her seat.

The slices were served, followed by seconds, and then, seeing there was only a tiny bit left, Claire said, ‘Might as well finish it off. Seems stupid to wrap that up.'

Graham flashed to the memory of a conversation he'd had with one of the men he was seeing last month, who'd said it wasn't worth him wrapping it up by putting a condom on, since he'd run out, and besides he was taking medication to prevent certain infections. Graham had insisted, since whatever tablets they were, he was pretty sure they wouldn't protect him against all infections, then after more discussion, he'd decided, upon second thoughts, he didn't really fancy this bloke and he was going to stick with the original plan: celibacy. And he'd dressed and left the man's place, once again, deleted the hookup apps on his phone, feeling old, unattractive, and hopeless.

‘Miles away,' Claire said to him, tapping his nose with the silver serving knife.

He came to, shook his head, wiping the ice-cream off his nose. ‘I thought celibacy would be easier, you know. Simpler. That was the whole point of doing it.'

‘And isn't it?' Claire asked, licking the knife gleefully.

Graham shook his head. ‘Unfortunately, not.'

There was silence as Graham thought about the three men he was seeing and how he'd really gone all in with the dating side of things, and yet…

‘What's a cellibit?' Anna asked.

‘Time for you to go to bed,' Claire replied, leading her daughter away to her room.

There was some minor protests and shouting, mainly from Claire, as Graham cleared the table, tidied the kitchen, stacked the dishwasher and wiped down.

Finally, Claire arrived, red-faced, looking exhausted. ‘Right, wine and boyfriends and celibacy.'

It had sounded more interesting earlier when they'd agreed Graham should come round. But now, full of food, and wine and feeling tired, he wasn't sure if he could be bothered. He told her. ‘Besides, I'm fine. I'm really happy. Never happier. Relieved I'm not stuck with someone who's a new gay, doing all the stuff I did at sixteen. Who wants to go through all that again? Not me.' He shook his head in emphasis, mainly to convince himself he believed this.

Claire put her hands on her hips. ‘I've just put Anna to bed, I'm looking forward to some juicy gossip and you're telling me you're wilting?' She shook her head. ‘Disappointing. And no.' She led him from the kitchen into the lounge, opened more wine, poured it. ‘Now, tell me.'

The wine was doing its thing, two or three more glasses over general chitchat and he felt his inhibitions about telling her his love life woes very much lowering. He started with a heart-felt apology for taking so long to arrange this evening. Texts and phone calls were definitely no substitute for this.

She agreed.

Then he ventured into why he was so down at the moment, the apps – some for hook ups, others for dating, the weirdos, the near misses, the putting yourself out there, the disappointments, the endless carousel of men. Not that she could be shocked. She'd heard pretty much everything to do with Graham's love life since becoming friends a decade ago. She was ten years older than him, and in some ways felt like a strange mix of a substitute mum, and an older sister. She was very happy with this.

She looked at him, eyeing up the full glass of wine. ‘Stay. I said, stay. Sofa bed's yours.'

‘I don't like to impose. You've got mum things to do tomorrow. I'm fine. I can look after myself.'

‘I know you can. But sometimes, I think you could do with a bit of looking after yourself. And if I'm going to put my foot down about anything, it's going to be now, and about this. Stay.'

‘I've not got my pyjamas, toothpaste, all that.' He realised it was clutching at straws, mostly to prevent himself getting more drunk and uninhibited and telling her what he knew had to be told.

Claire disappeared, then returned, holding a bag full of airline and hotel travel toiletries kits. ‘I grab them when I'm travelling, if we go out to sea, visiting George.' She stared at him, lifted her glass. ‘Tell me all.'

And so, with more reluctance at the start than by the end of the story, he did.

‘Before R, I was happily celibate. I broke my self-imposed celibacy rule for R.' He coughed. ‘But since him…well, I realised how much I missed sex. It's like my body woke up from a long sex-less sleep. So, the dating has been partly to slake that thirst, because, my god, was I thirsty.'

‘Understood. When George goes away, I get used to going without, but when he's back…well, I remember how much I love it, him.' She blushed.

Graham nodded. ‘That, pretty much. So, there's the twinky student, who's about twenty. He's really cute. But we have no common reference points. I mentioned Erasure and he thought I meant deleting something.'

‘Picture?'

Graham showed her on his phone.

‘Cute.'

Graham shrugged. He knew he was supposed to say the twinky guy was cute, but he wasn't handsome. Didn't get his pulse rushing like he wanted. ‘He's not very pleased about the celibacy side of things. Keeps nipping off to the loo for a quick wank. Takes ages in the shower if he stays over.'

Claire stared at him. ‘You've had him stay over your place and you've still not shagged him?'

Graham nodded. ‘Never wanted to.' It made staying celibate easier, he admitted.

‘So why are you seeing him?'

‘Trying a few things out.'

‘Like?'

‘Whether I like being the older daddy of the relationship, by dating this younger twink. And so far, pretty much nope. Although he fancies me, and definitely sees me as a daddy-type, I'm not into that whole scene; no judgement for others, but it just doesn't give me a kick, instead I feel as old as the hills and out of touch with young people.' Graham shrugged.

Claire rolled her eyes. ‘Who's next?'

‘There's the older guy, who's sort of big, like me, silvery grey hair, beard, well looked after. We talked about the gym. His running routine. He swims too. Looks very impressive in a pair of swimming shorts.'

‘Picture please?'

‘None of him are SFW, so I'd rather not.' Graham blushed.

‘Come off it, I've seen everything before.'

Thinking back through his online dating, online hookups, and now this, he reckoned she probably had seen it all. Cautiously he showed her a picture of the older guy, posted to his dating profile – he stood in a pair of shorts – very tight, big thighs, and topless, silvery grey hair on his muscular chest.

‘He shaves all that now,' Graham indicated his chest.

‘How's he about the celibacy thing?'

‘Very supportive. Said he'd rather save things up for the real thing, a proper big performance, balls-deep shag, rather than some quick flick of the wrist and then sleep. He'd aim for one or two of those a month, he reckoned.'

‘And you'd be happy with that, would you?'

‘With him, or generally?'

Claire thought for a moment. ‘Either.'

Now it was Graham's time to consider things. He shrugged. ‘I think we're better off as gym friends. We don't have much else to talk about really. We did go quite deeply into celibacy and he said he'd done it without really knowing when his last boyfriend had passed away and he'd just not wanted to…'

‘Passed away, as in died?'

Graham nodded. ‘So that was a bit of a conversation ender really. I was happy to listen to him telling me about his late boyfriend. Sad, but good that he felt able to open up and share that with me. Nice guy though. We said we'd have a drink together soon, but I don't think we'll ever date.'

‘You said three guys, what about the third one? And you're not sleeping with any of them?'

Graham shook his head. ‘That's kind of the point of being celibate.' He'd decided to give all of that a rest. Having done just sex no relationship, then trying relationship with sex, he thought he'd go for the latter, without the sex, since he reckoned that was the bit making things complicated.

‘Is number three the one you really like?'

He wished. A long sigh. ‘He's my age, so lots of cultural references shared. He's a children's entertainer in a holiday park. Loves kids. Loves animals. Plays well. Gets on great with everyone. He's interested in people, a great listener, and also a great conversationalist, he's led an interesting life. We watch movies together, stay in with a bottle of wine and chill out. He cooks for me; I cook for him. We go for walks together, chatting the whole time. He's really really nice.'

‘So, what's wrong with him? Sounds promising.' She looked at him in anticipation.

He's not Ryan.Graham couldn't, absolutely wouldn't, say it. But he thought it. Had thought it ever since that night with Ryan on his knees, when he'd walked away from what he felt sure would have been some of the best sex he'd ever had. Graham shook his head. ‘He's nice, but a bit…he's inoffensive like magnolia paint, has a tendency to blend into the background in crowds. Never has strong opinions on anything. He doesn't follow current affairs, doesn't seem to have long term life plans, is happy living from day to day. He's perfectly happy with his life as it is. There's no drive, he has nothing he's passionately interested about; no hobbies.'

‘Why don't you sleep with him, or all of them, then see which one's best in bed?'

Because he didn't want that. Didn't want sex at all. Had no desire for anything nearing that level of intimacy with anyone he knew he didn't feel a connection with as he had with Ryan. ‘He's nice, the kids' entertainer. Although he doesn't have much about him. I think we'd be better as friends. He's sort of my type – rugby build, bit hairy, not too plucked and moisturised. A good dose of caveman.'

‘But?'

‘There is no but.'

Claire nodded, held Graham's hand. ‘There is. Because if there wasn't, you'd have shagged him by now. Or you'd be dating him properly, at least. Instead of this faffing around seeing him and not sleeping with anyone. What sort of plan is that? Were you drunk when you came up with it?'

He had been actually. Irretrievably drunk. Inordinately sad. Painfully missing Ryan. Not admitting to it, because he was the one who'd walked away, not wanting to be played with, after Ryan had said he couldn't give Graham what he wanted. So, in part, Graham felt responsible. Maybe if he hadn't walked away, Ryan would have stayed that night and reconsidered in the morning. The mess of his life, his broken heart, his resolve not to be played around with by Ryan, had all seemed too much. Which was when he'd come up with plan for celibacy.

Now, Graham, feeling maudlin, thanks to the wine, and not looking forward to returning to his empty apartment, said, ‘Am I stupid to not want to date someone because they're inoffensive, but there's no spark? Should I date and hope the spark follows? The kids' entertainer is a lovely guy. Really nice. But he's not…'

Claire smiled. ‘I get it. I really do.'

Graham, feeling overwhelmed with emotion, slightly melancholy from the wine, and hopelessly stuck in a relationship rut of his own creation, asked, ‘Can I have a hug, please?'

Claire nodded, and put her arms around him and held him tightly.

‘Thanks for making me stay,' he said, sniffing, wiping tears from his cheeks.

She hugged him tighter. ‘Sometimes you've got to allow others look after you. You just need to let go. Every now and then. Let others worry about you for once.'

They sat on the sofa in silence. Finally, Claire made up the sofa bed, tucked him up with a duvet, kissed his forehead, wished him good night, then left.

Because he's not Ryan.Those words danced through Graham's consciousness as the only explanation for why he hadn't taken things further with a guy his age who he found attractive, who was wonderful with children, animals, other people, but who, despite trying to see past it, Graham couldn't help escape the fact was not Ryan. And, no matter how much he told his heart to the contrary, it was Ryan who he missed above anything and anyone else.

Ryan.