There's this mate of mine, you see, he had what he thought was a fulfilling developing relationship. For the first time in his life he knew that, given the necessary care and attention, it could develop into the sort of partnership he could only dream about before.
The thing is, my friend has always had trouble telling the people around him what his needs are. Scared shitless of rejection, I'll say. That is why he kept daydreaming of a sun-flooded two-bedroom house in London (spot the oxymoron) he could share with his man (and his flatmate's French-speaking cat, rescued from her destiny of weekend starvation). He pictured touching toothbrushes, CDs that have lived side-by-side on the shelf for so long that you do not know any longer which belongs to whom, and a joint council tax booklet.
He dropped a few hints and saw them crash on the floor. He started finding himself looking at couples of friends living together with the sort of envy and bitterness an orphan feels after a lovely couple has visited the home but picked out some other kid to take back to their welcoming home where a puppy would be waiting for them. And a PlayStation and plenty of Barbie dolls. And an Icelandic horse (it's
not a pony - it's a
small horse, alright?) in a shed in the garden (are you reading this, Santa?)
My friend has confided a lot in me recently, and I went out of my way to reassure him that it is not necessary to live together to savour the joys of companionship. I made a point in outlining the advantages of living separately: retaining your personal space; avoiding the uglyness of fighting over who bought what during a nasty breakup; the thrill of being able to tell each other, even after a couple of years together, "Your place or mine?"
And you know what the sad loser replied? One word: "Christmas". He said that for once he wanted to bask in the comfort of not having to make sure he would not spend Dec. 25th on his own. He looked at me in the eye with a determination I had never seen in him, and said that he wanted a family, a home to go back to in the evening rather than a house, and since a wife and kids were not really an option (lord knows he tried), he thought it could have it, albeit unorthodoxly, with the man he loves.
I am usually not one for dishing out advice light-heartedly. I recoil at the thought of so much responsibility. This time though it was so obvious that my mate was unhappy, that I simply told him to let his partner know about his needs, and confront him to see where he stands.
So he did last night. Turns out my mate's dream might have been just a one-sided fantasy, and I am mortified for stirring things between them. They used to be happy together. Now it looks like it was all built on a disgraceful misunderstanding. A technicality for some - the foundations of happiness for others.
Update: Just heard from them: they're doing fine, having bangers and mash and red wine gravy (their customary making up/celebration dinner) and Moët & Chandon. Phew. Future cohabitation not ruled out. Boyfriend offered to make a little room in his flat for my friend so that he won't have to live out of an overnight bag on the floor. They'll see how that goes and take it from there. Boyfriend's hesitation because new to this. Understandably scared. Best wishes. Go for it guys!
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Monday 19 April 2004 at 12:22 pm
Those Icelandic horses have a unique fifth gait, you know. It's called the tölt.