“For doing this with me. You could have walked out.”
Strangely, I smiled. A warmth filling my chest. I was rarely…appreciated. And this somehow felt just like that.
“Not giving up yet,” I gulped out, trying to swallow another mouthful of hot liquid. “But, at least you have options. There’s only Bisexual-Ben left for me, and he scares me. And to be honest? I don’t think I’m his type at all.”
“What makes you say that?”
“He gave off those vibes. I mean, you meet people, and you kind of know. Straight away, virtual thorns out, all prickly.”
“Like me.”
“Just like you.” I smiled. I wasn’t being rude, but he got that. Got me. The relief was like another welcome balm to my soul.
“Tell me about that,” he continued, getting comfortable on the bed. “These sheets are from Donna Truham’s private luxury range. Did you know that, Oliver?”
“I did not know that, Peter. And are they available to purchase from her website?”
He was holding that laughter in as I smiled at the camera attached to the wall.
“They are indeed, Oliver. Donna Truham dot com. Use the codeSave the Datefor your exclusive ten per cent off!”
“That is such a good deal!” I squealed. Then I rolled my eyes. “That’s enough of that stuff. Tell me about your work.”
“Na-ah-ah…I asked first. Tell me about this instant vibe. In my days, we used to go out to nightclubs and meet girls. You had to compliment them on their hair, their dress and how nice they smelled. Then you had to ask them to dance. It was really simple because they could just say no, and then you knew and moved on. Dignity intact. These days?”
“It’s not that complicated. You meet someone. Stare at them. They stare back. If they hold eye contact, you might, you know? Clink glasses. Have a little snog.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
“Well, you have to kind of…be in a gay club if you wanna kiss boys. So I have no idea how it works for women…”
“You’ve never been with a woman, I assume?”
“Absolutely not. I’m a gold star gay me.”
“Fair enough. Wait… Gold star?”
“A gay guy who’s never been with a woman. Never been inside a vagina.”
“Okay?”
“Not a platinum star gay though, sadly. That’s a…” I leant over and whispered into his ear. “A platinum star gay is a gay guy who’s never been inside a vagina at all. C-section baby.”
I pulled back slowly for effect, laughing out loud as his face bloomed red.
“I’ve never met someone who blushes as much as you.”
“I’m a sheltered, middle-aged dentist, mate!” he shrieked, but he was laughing. Good for him.
“I think you just made yourself another meme there,” I declared, boldly throwing my arms out.
“Well. I’m ticking them off one by one. Here’s the next one. What if you’re just an ordinary bloke who suddenly has a male partner? What are you then? A brick gay or something?”
“I don’t think that’s a thing.” I smiled.
“It’s just human, isn’t it? We like who we like.” Peter was a nice guy. I had to admit it.
“It’s just who we are, isn’t it? I just always knew. Never hid it. Life can be stupid that way. I mean, what’s the point of hiding what you are? What you’re into?”
