Last night's engagement party turned out to be a rather bigger affair than I'd expected - there were probably fifty-odd people there all told - based around a barbeque in the beer garden of an East Kent village pub, marquee and all. I'd had a few 'I wonder' moments about who might be there, and, in the event, there were a number who made my evening more complicated than I would, ideally, have chosen.
It was only a few minutes after K and I had arrived when the first hiccup manifested itself, in the shape of a pair of brothers, on my nephew's fiancee's side - big bro, 13-ish, was right in my AoA, and not at all difficult to look at, but it was little bro who out-cuted him by many a mile - even K, completely unprompted by me, called him 'adorable'. A slightly later arrival, though, induced an experience verging on the surreal. My sister-in-law's niece arrived with her family, including her youngest - a boy who looks so much like she did when I first met her as a pretty (but more than a little boyish) 11/12 year old, albeit that her son had an almost militarily severe haircut, maybe imposed by a father (who I only know very slightly, but what I do know, I don't find at all appealing) who wanted to make sure his son looks as masculine as possible. Despite the scalping, the boy attracted a good deal of my attention during the evening, but discreetly - he doesn't know me at all, and I'm as sure as I can be that he wasn't aware of my interest.
One of the last family groups of all to arrive, though, brought with them, for me, the most difficulties of all. I'd known since I'd spoken to my brother at lunchtime that one of my oldest friends, the best man at my wedding, and his wife would be there, which, given that I hadn't seen them for almost three years, was very welcome news. What I didn't know, though, was that their son would be there too - or that he would turn out to both bring out so many resonances of that disastrous night in Manchester last autumn, and to be so special in his own right. Special, that is, in exactly the same way J was, very bright, engaging, so much fun to be around, just a delight. The fact that I was so taken with him, though, led me into an act of cowardice I was ashamed of almost immediately, but couldn't bring myself to overcome. I'd told my friend in an e-mail more than a year ago that I felt that I owed him an explanation as to why my ex and I had split up, given his role on our wedding day, but that I wanted to tell him face to face rather than hiding behind the anonymity of a keyboard. As I've said before, my handful of 'comings out' have been of two kinds, the basic 'I've known I was gay since I was 12' version, and the properly honest 'but I've never been attracted to a man in my life' full version. I really wanted to tell my friend 'the whole truth', but I simply couldn't face the prospect of losing another person who I've been close to for more than half of my life had he concluded that his son was at risk (which I can truthfully say he would never be) from me. So, despite whatever 'Dutch courage' might have been engendered by the several beers I'd had by that stage of the evening, I 'bottled it', and stopped after the first clause. There are times when I hate myself so much. This is one of them.
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
It was only a few minutes after K and I had arrived when the first hiccup manifested itself, in the shape of a pair of brothers, on my nephew's fiancee's side - big bro, 13-ish, was right in my AoA, and not at all difficult to look at, but it was little bro who out-cuted him by many a mile - even K, completely unprompted by me, called him 'adorable'. A slightly later arrival, though, induced an experience verging on the surreal. My sister-in-law's niece arrived with her family, including her youngest - a boy who looks so much like she did when I first met her as a pretty (but more than a little boyish) 11/12 year old, albeit that her son had an almost militarily severe haircut, maybe imposed by a father (who I only know very slightly, but what I do know, I don't find at all appealing) who wanted to make sure his son looks as masculine as possible. Despite the scalping, the boy attracted a good deal of my attention during the evening, but discreetly - he doesn't know me at all, and I'm as sure as I can be that he wasn't aware of my interest.
One of the last family groups of all to arrive, though, brought with them, for me, the most difficulties of all. I'd known since I'd spoken to my brother at lunchtime that one of my oldest friends, the best man at my wedding, and his wife would be there, which, given that I hadn't seen them for almost three years, was very welcome news. What I didn't know, though, was that their son would be there too - or that he would turn out to both bring out so many resonances of that disastrous night in Manchester last autumn, and to be so special in his own right. Special, that is, in exactly the same way J was, very bright, engaging, so much fun to be around, just a delight. The fact that I was so taken with him, though, led me into an act of cowardice I was ashamed of almost immediately, but couldn't bring myself to overcome. I'd told my friend in an e-mail more than a year ago that I felt that I owed him an explanation as to why my ex and I had split up, given his role on our wedding day, but that I wanted to tell him face to face rather than hiding behind the anonymity of a keyboard. As I've said before, my handful of 'comings out' have been of two kinds, the basic 'I've known I was gay since I was 12' version, and the properly honest 'but I've never been attracted to a man in my life' full version. I really wanted to tell my friend 'the whole truth', but I simply couldn't face the prospect of losing another person who I've been close to for more than half of my life had he concluded that his son was at risk (which I can truthfully say he would never be) from me. So, despite whatever 'Dutch courage' might have been engendered by the several beers I'd had by that stage of the evening, I 'bottled it', and stopped after the first clause. There are times when I hate myself so much. This is one of them.
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
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