“My God, and I thought queer men were supposed to have more fashion sense?”
“Not all of us.” Giles sits back and adjusts his waistcoat with a smirk.
“I know you said you haven’t always dressed like this. That it was your graduation suit that made you like dressing like this, but sometimes I like to imagine you’ve always been like this. Like, when you were a kid, you rode your bike and kicked a football around while wearing a three-piece suit.”
“Ha, can you imagine?” Giles laughs to himself. “Then I would have had even fewer friends than I did.”
I frown at that. “You didn’t have many friends growing up?”
Gilestakes another drink from his beer, a noticeably larger mouthful. “Not a ton, no.”
“How come?” I ask before I can check myself but as soon as the words are out I realise they could be asking more of Giles than he’s prepared to give.
“I wasn’t very… relaxed as a kid. I didn’t socialise easily,” he says and it both feels like a lot and too little. I want to know more, but I also don’t want to pry.
“You know I don’t think I had arealfriend until my ex-girlfriend,” I say and it feels like I’m thinking out loud.
It’s Giles’ turn to frown. “I’m sorry?”
“Kris, my ex. We were together for around four years in my late twenties. My last proper girlfriend if I’m being honest.” I wince at the admission. “But anyway, after we broke up, we stayed friends. Really good friends. And I can see now that all the ‘friends’ I had before were more ‘mates’ if that makes sense,” I say, being very liberal with my air quotes.
Giles nods. “Makes complete sense.”
“That’s sort of sad, isn’t it?” I stare blankly at a point in the bar just behind Giles’ head. We’re sitting to the side in a typical London gastropub. There are bottle-green glossy tiles on the walls and wood furnishings everywhere. The clientele surrounding us are a mix of workers in slightly dishevelled office wear, creatives in casual outfits and a few flat-capped old men at the bar who look like they’ve been there longer than most of the staff have been alive.
“Toxic masculinity,” Giles says so softly I almost miss it.
“Huh?”
“Toxic masculinity,” he says a little clearer and our eyes snap to each other. “It teaches men to suppress our emotions and that in turn stops us from connecting with people. I guess we normally talk about it in the context of romantic relationships, but I think it’s even more true when it comes to friendships.”
I let his words sink in. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”
He fidgets a little then, shifting his weight on his chair and moves to lean both elbows on the table. His pint is nearly empty and I should offer to get the next round as he bought the first. “But you know, in an attempt to put a middle finger up at aforementioned toxic masculinity, I’m glad we’ve become friends.”
Friends. Of course that’s how Giles sees us. And why wouldn’t he? I’m a straight man and besides, he’s totally out of my league.
“I’m glad too,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat that materialises as if I’ve said something not wholly true.
“Tell me more about Kris,” he says after giving me a quick moustache-bouncing smile. “Why did you break up?”
I huff out a short laugh before taking a sip of my beer. “Well, I turned her gay.”
Giles’ forehead crinkles. “What?”
I laugh again. “Well, not exactly, but also yes, kind of. She realised she was a lesbian and so being in a relationship with a six-foot-two hairy Italian man wasn’t the best fit for her.”
“Wow.” Giles takes another drink, downing what’s left in his glass.
“Honestly, it wasn’t a huge shock. I also could tell something wasn’t quite right between us but I didn’t have any other experience to compare it. And I liked her company. A lot. I figured that was as good as a relationship needed to be.”
“I think that it’s a pretty good start.” Giles looks down briefly. “But I’m guessing the sex wasn’t exactly amazing.”
“It certainly wasn’t for her,” I joke and we both laugh together.
“It’s good that you’re still friends,” he says eventually.
“Yeah.” I smile to myself. “She’s my best friend. She’s from the States and was new here when we met. I guess I sort of became her family away from home.”
