My Big Fat Gay Life (25 page)

“Sure!” Seb replied, panting as he lunged for, and missed, the ball. He laughed and stopped for a quick break, putting his hands on his hips and leaning forward slightly so he could take a few deep breaths. “He’s got a good heart, cares for people, and has a slightly broken aura. Just my type of man!”

It was a tough session. Both of us were out of shape, as it’d been over three weeks since we last played squash, and nearly four weeks since I’d worked out at the gym. I looked up at my fan club in the viewing gallery and wondered if they’d shown up every day while I was on my honeymoon. If so, their persistence was paying off today. All I was wearing were my tiny white spandex shorts, which were drenched with sweat and left nothing to the imagination.

“Why do you like them slightly broken?” I asked, serving up the little bouncy black ball.

“Good question!” Seb replied, grunting as he returned the ball. “I guess I like to fix everyone: help shape and mould them.”

“You never try to shape or mould me,” I observed as I won another point.

“Sure I do!” Seb answered, panting. “I help with your self-esteem by letting you win at squash all the time.”

I laughed so hard that I missed the ball, and the serve passed to Seb.

“Have you bumped uglies with Matt yet?” I asked him. In these modern sexually liberated times, it’s pretty much assumed that if you’ve ‘dated’ someone, then you’ve fucked. However, you can’t leap to conclusions with Seb. He may be gay and open-minded, but he can also be quite old-fashioned.

“Not yet,” Seb answered.

“I met Matt briefly when I visited Donovan, the day after we got home from our honeymoon. He seems nice.”

“He
is
nice,” Seb said. “I’m taking him to lunch today with Kento and Ian, but one day soon I’d like both you and Ruth to meet him again outside of his work environment.”

“Sure! Just let me know where and when.”

We played in silence for a while. Seb was breathless because I was running him around the court ruthlessly. All too soon, our hour was up.

“Time to hit the showers,” I said to Seb. We both looked up at the sound of feet thundering away from the gallery level. The members of my fan club were off to find the best positions for the shower show. Seb and I just laughed.

“You said Matt was broken a little. How?” I asked of Sebastian.

“I’m not sure,” he answered honestly, “but I’ll work it out. He’s a little jealous and possessive, which is just a self-esteem issue. I must admit it feels nice having someone be jealous and possessive of me!”

“Alright then!” I observed. “Mustn’t keep my adoring public waiting. You sure you wouldn’t like to join me in the showers here? Or I can come and shower with you at yours. We could get some breakfast afterwards.”

“That would be great, but I’m expecting Matt at mine. He’s just coming off night shift.”

“Next time,” I said, hugging Sebastian and kissing him on the cheek.

“I don’t know what Sebastian sees in Matt,” Ian observed after lunch. “There’s something a little off about him.”

“Can we talk about it later?” I asked Ian, grunting. “I don’t want to think about Sebastian and Matt while I have my cock up your arse!”

After lunch, Ian and I had gone home to fuck. His mind tends to wander during sex, but I’d stopped taking it as a reflection on my sexual prowess. He did his best thinking during sex, and the better the sex, the better the thinking.

Lying contentedly in the sexual afterglow, I turned my face to Ian. “What do you think is wrong with Matt?”

“Not sure. I’m worried for your friend Sebastian though.”

“Oh don’t worry about Sebastian!” I laughed. “He’ll break up with Matt in a week or two. He’ll find some reason: too many ear hairs, misshapen nipple. He’ll find some excuse to break up with Matt - it’s what Sebastian does. For all his strengths and powerful traits, he has some quirks that he’s blind to. The main one is that he has to break up with a guy first, not the other way around. He hates the idea of someone breaking up with him. It implies imperfection.”

“He’s so good at spotting the imperfections in other people,” Ian observed, “but not real good at seeing his own.”

“Aren’t we all,” I said?

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” I said to Matt as I unlocked my apartment door. I’d found him waiting in the foyer downstairs. The concierge was eyeing him suspiciously, as they do all my visitors in the days following Bruce’s free reign over my apartment.

“I’ll forgive you this once,” Matt said, and I laughed. He must be dead tired after a night shift, but he can still crack jokes. He’s too tired to laugh himself, though.

“Do you want a shower too?” I asked him as I stripped off in the bathroom.

“Nah,” he answered. “I’ll just go straight to sleep, then shower before we meet your friends for lunch.”

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you coming to lunch today. I had no idea you were on night shifts when I organised it.”

Matt lived in a town called Atherton, so I offered for him to sleep at my apartment for a few hours before lunch, and then to return to my apartment after lunch and finish his eight hours sleep before work.

“Normally I’d have given you a key,” I called out to him as I stepped under the shower, “but I’m very careful with keys since the whole crazy stalker thing.”

“No problem,” I heard him reply. “I don’t need a key. I expect you to be here whenever I come anyway.”

I laughed. When I came out of the bathroom, towelling myself dry, he’d fallen asleep on the bed.

* * *

I had no idea how bad Matt’s self-esteem was. I must admit I have a soft spot for lame ducks. I want to help him, heal him. As I walked him back to my apartment after lunch with Kento and Ian, we had an interesting exchange of words.

“How did you ever end up with him?” Matt asked me, referring to Kento. “He’s a hunk. Way out of your league.”

Interesting! He judged Kento purely on his physique.

“Are you saying that I can only date ugly guys?” I asked Matt, teasingly. “What does that say about you?”

“I’m not good looking,” he said. I was silent, musing about Matt’s lack of self-esteem. This was the first time I’d seen him bring himself down. Most of the time, he was trying to bring me down to his level. It’s a common thread for people with low self-esteem: bring others down to your level, and you don’t have to rise to theirs.

“How did you go at squash this morning?” Matt asked me.

“I lost, as per usual,” I answered him.

“Thought so,” Matt mused, almost so quietly I didn’t hear him. I laughed, thinking he was making another joke. More importantly, choosing to react as though he’d made a joke.

“Seriously though,” he said. “Why do you remain friends with Kento and Justin? They have their own lives: lives that don’t involve you. Kento has a great relationship with Ian. Justin has a new wife and is planning children. What do you bring to their lives?”

“I’m sure I bring a lot of positive things to their lives, otherwise they wouldn’t keep me around! I’m sure I also bring some grief and drama, but with any relationship, whether it’s a friendship, relationship, or familial bond, as long as the positives outweigh the negatives then it’s worth maintaining.”

“But if someone’s priorities change, their opinion of what’s a positive and what’s a negative may change as well. I can play squash with you, if you like,” Matt said. “We can have lunch each day as well. I think you should let them drift away, before they cut you off. It’s best for everyone.”

* * *

“I didn’t know what to do,” I told Donovan when I visited him that afternoon. “I didn’t want to make a big deal of it.”

Donovan sat there mutely of course: the perfect sounding board.

“He has such bad self-esteem,” I continued on, “and the only way he can make himself feel better is to drag other people down to his level. He’s trying to isolate me. By being my world, he thinks he’ll feel better about himself. I know, I deal with this stuff at work all the time and I shouldn’t have to deal with it in my personal life. I know I should kick his arse to the curb, but I think my self-esteem is strong enough to handle any abuse he throws my way. I’m sure I can help him with his own self-esteem issues.”

I sat in silence for a few minutes, holding Donovan’s hand. I asked myself what he would say to me, if he were able.

“You’re right!” I exclaimed, as though he’d spoken to me. “I need a partner, not a patient. I’ll break up with him tonight.”

* * *

I stood outside my apartment, steeling myself for a potential confrontation with Matt. I didn’t know how he’d react to a ‘let’s just be friends’ chat. I opened the door and walked in, to be greeted by the sight of Matt on the sofa, his face red and his eyes puffy. He’d obviously been crying.

“What’s wrong?” I asked him, rushing over to sit by his side. I hugged him, and my heart went out to him.

“I’m so sorry!” he cried. Tears sprang to his piercing blue eyes. “I was wrong to say what I said about your friends. I had no right to say any of the things I did. I feel awful!”

“It’s OK,” I said soothingly, still wrapping him in a hug. “You’re allowed an opinion.”

“But now you’re going to think I’m a selfish control freak, and you’re going to break up with me! And it’s all my fault!” A fresh wash of tears streamed down his face, and sobs made his body heave in my hug.

My heart ached again. Two aches was a bad sign. “Maybe you have a point,” I said. “Maybe I should let my friends go their own way.”

“No!” he replied emphatically. “They obviously adore you.” My heart expanded again: third and final time.

“Then how about this,” I said. “In the morning, you and I play squash after you finish work. I’ll cancel my game with Justin.”

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