IT SHOULD'VE BEEN ME

An interesting day, one framed by a morning of dense fog optimistically leading to a warmer than the average March afternoon full of cloudless skies and a sun that seemed pleased to see me. With several plans for travel imminent I needed to go into York to transfer funds from a safe account (not able to spend online) to one whereupon badly needed discipline needs to kick itself into action to enable me to still go. It wasn't going to take long, it couldn't I had lots of college work to do. 

On my way down Micklegate after checking the over priced stock of Oxfam, I saw Steve. 

The day became brighter. 

I nearly walked past him, he was on his mobile phone. He recognised me yet looked intent on continuing his conversation until I said his name. Politely he terminated the call and greeted me. I asked if he was working in construction; his crumpled, over sized sweatshirt and nicely fitting, yet somehow, seen better days jeans suggested that maybe he might have altered his career from youth work to a role that suited his apparent upper body bulkiness. The last I'd heard Steve had embarked upon attending a gym to develop his physique beyond that of his 30" waist and 36" chest. It would seem that during the 16 years since he has maintained his gym attendance, and his calorie intake. Bulky, but nice, and not how I remember. 

I have always thought fondly of Steve. He gets mentioned within distant social circles. Always the same, no-one knows much, but he seems fine. People wondered why I kept asking. Steve was the first person I'd ever had sex with more than once. Looking back, it meant something to me. I don't think I knew what love was then and I don't think what we were doing was either, but I certainly fancied him, and we spent the entire summer/winter together - it was fun. Steve drank alcohol, I took drugs. Steve slept a lot after a night out, I didn't. He had other boyfriends during this time; usually for a week or so, it never bothered me, I never had any entitlement to be bothered, we were just mates. But saying that, our nights out that were often spent apart usually lead to us to clambering back together upon whichever horizontal surface would best accommodate our drunken attraction to each other. This went on for some time, it was nice, I recall he had weak legs that were no match for mine and a really fit arse. One night he screamed at me, 'You don't have any friends do you, you don't know what they are', then just stormed off. He was angry, I seem to remember that I laughed, confused at what had taken place. I later discovered that, at the time, Steve considered me more than a friend. I never knew this, he was just someone nice I liked being around and having sex with. 

In 1993, selling and taking far too many illicit drugs I went off to London. York was small; the inhabitants small minded. Appearing in the local rag as wild raver drug dealers was too much. That was the last summer I had ever seen Steve. 

Steve has been in the same relationship since 1994, with Andy, they were married two years ago. He seems happy; same job; moved house a couple of times; dealing with life well; content. It seemed like he almost tried to explain his life away with a sense of regret of having not done enough. But God, 15 years, and still happy and still in love, and they're gay!! I doubt he could do any more. It was interesting seeing him. He still possesses the likeable attributes that I liked all those years ago. I like his laugh and his arse. We never exchanged numbers; I never asked, he never offered. Some things are best left where they belong, but I'm pleased he is happy, if not deeply jealous.