Thursday, 3 November 2011

The Story of Mr G


Early in 2005 I met a young gay man totally by accident whilst waiting for a friend at Foregate Street Station.  That young man was 15 and his name is Grant.  I was 23 at the time.  At the time it was an inconsequential meeting, just 2 people in the street talking to a mutual friend.

Later that week he added me on MySpace with the message something like “Hello Mr man from Heerreeeefffooooorrrddddd!!”  I accepted the add.  Why wouldn’t I?

We spoke several times before adding on MSN (Facebook hadn’t really taken off in the UK then!) and continued to have rather one-sided conversations for a while. He didn’t talk much.  It was constantly me asking questions and leading the chatter.

His first boyfriend who he split up with when I had got to know him, became a bit of a weirdo, and oddly Grant asked me to help him deal with the guy.  I did my bit to help!  I’m a nice chap like that.

I got to know Grant through my first year @ Uni as my social life expanded, so did his.  We never made it out on a night out together as he was underage, but through my questioning I grew to learn what was going on in his life, and what he was up to.  When Facebook came along in 2006 (my second year) then my knowledge of him and his existence grew again.

He was a typical young gay man (in my semi-stereotyped image): unafraid of who he was so therefore very “out”, slightly camp, very immature and inexperienced.  Very attractive and loveable also.  He has one of those faces that you are instantly drawn to.

Through the time I knew him in the 05 to 07 period he went through a lot... of boyfriends, as well as bad experiences.  His parents threw him out of home when he “came out”, one or two of his boyfriends were abusive, and many of his boyfriends cheated on him after just a few weeks or months.  However, he never grew to resent “men” as most gays do.   And even though he was “getting around a bit” he never seemed to be the one doing it on purpose, like everyone else.  He truly and genuinely was looking for a real relationship.

When he had nowhere to go, he came to mine for many hours in between sleeping on peoples floors and staying at the YMCA round the corner. (I was living in McIntyre Road between Sept and Nov 06).  Nothing ever happened between us, but he just used to sit there, in my room as I worked on my essays.  It was a bit weird really, but I think he just liked to be able to sit quietly without anyone getting at him.  I gave him hot drinks and food before he would go back out “onto the streets”.  He never wanted to stay.

Eventually he settled with a guy a few years older than him, but again the relationship only lasted 8 or 9 months.  They had even moved in together for most of that time, bought kittens, e.t.c.  During this period, I had not heard much from him.  He was happy and so was I.  But when it all went wrong he came to me for help...again!

I gave him the best advice I could, but I was living back at home again dealing with my own problems of coming out to not very understanding parents, and various digestive problems.

Life carried on for both of us.  Uni for me, and many more boyfriends for him.  By now I had come to realise that I was very attracted to Grant, and whether you can call it love or not, that’s what I felt it was.  I also felt rather helpless, watching him get with someone, be cheated on, and then getting into another doomed relationship.  Ad infinitum...

Time passed for many months, until January/February 2008 when I was sat having dinner with my best mate, at the time, Tom in Chesters in town.  He told me about a new guy that he was meeting.  “Oh right” says I thinking nothing about it.  “What’s his name?”... “Grant” was the reply.  Yes, same person.  My brain didn’t click at the time, but; my best mate + the guy I loved, but couldn’t have = together?  Bad arithmetic!
After dinner we went to the gay pub in town to meet Grant and they got close.  I left them to it mouthing “Behave” to Tom on the way out. They stayed.  By now Grant was living in some old dudes spare room, rent free (dodgy in itself) and I almost felt like I had to be watchful for him... even with my best mate!

I cried myself all the way back to my house (I was now in my 3rd year and living in Happyland) and cried myself to sleep that night. Tom was not in my good books next day.  I ignored him for nearly 3 days and vented my anger on other people, until I finally realised I had to deal with it.

Tom and I had a chat about him dating Grant, and he said that I would have to say if I didn’t feel comfortable.  My view was that it was none of my business what went on between them, and that I would have to deal with it.

2 months later and Tom split with Grant a few days before Grants 18th Birthday.  That decision is irrelevant, but the reasons for it are.  Tom had come to know Grant as a dull, unintelligent, immature, and worldly unwise young man.  I saw through all that.  I had now come to feel like a Big Brother figure.  Watching, waiting, caring, protecting, educating and explaining things when Grant didn’t understand. But Tom was adamant; he was no good!

I went to Grant’s 18th Birthday party as I had promised.  Tom advised me against it.  It would be the first time that I would have gone out drinking with Grant – for obvious reasons.
The night went well until we got to Tramps.  It was a bitter cold night in March, and we were dressed in black shirts and pink ties.  About 4 or 5 people, girls and boys had turned up, and everyone was merry.  I requested Grants favourite song by Cascada from the DJ and he loved it!

Then he went outside for a cigarette.  I didn’t follow at first, but as I didn’t know his other friends I followed shortly after.  He was stood outside shivering to death, and upon seeing me, flung his arm around me to cuddle me.  Drunk, cold, and not entirely realising what was happening (as you do when you’ve been drinking) I went along with it.

Grant next proceeded to take my hand, interlock fingers and lead me to the cigarette machine.  Pulling me close in behind him as he bought more fags, I was swept up in emotion that I almost couldn’t speak or do anything.

Once that was done, my world shattered.  As quickly as he had started to get close to me, it was as if I didn’t exist.  Within 10 minutes of what I have just described I was running home in floods of tears, texting Tom: “I’m on my way home.   In a state.  Help”.  I had realised in those fleeting moments that I could and would never have what I wanted.  The emotion got the better of me.

Bless him, Tom met me down in Happyland at 3am and I cried my heart out on his shoulder for a good minute; stood in the street like a numpty.  It has been the only time that I have cried in public.

Tom took me back to mine and made me tea, played relevant songs on YouTube to make me feel suitably foolish and to quantify the situation.  (Tom and I had a media-centric friendship.  We constantly send videos, websites and web-pictures to one another to relate stories, compare real life to cultural media, like films and TV, e.t.c.)

At 4am, and after 2 cups of tea, and relating the nights events to Tom, I finally went to bed.  Next morning I removed all possible means of contact with Grant from my phone and social media.

From that day to this, I have never spoken to Grant, nor seen him in person.  Grant has tried to add me again since, but on Tom’s advice I haven’t done it.  It was his view was that it wouldn’t help if I started talking to him again. I agreed.

Every now and then I see his car, or a car like his, I hear his name, or either the name Grant, or his surname, of I hear a Cascada song, or get reminded of him some other way, or the whole damn story I have just told will flood into my mind, making my eyes water.  I still cry about it to this day.

It happens a lot.  Painful memories stick with you.

It also happens when I meet guys, and then find problems with then which mean we aren’t compatible, and loose the feeling of anticipation that I might be about to enter into a relationship.  Which is another long winded conversation...!

Tom used to explain it with: “You were destined to meet.  Just not yet.”

The way I explain it: “You never choose who you love.”

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