It must be strange to some that here I am, a gay man of threescore years and ten still having fun with a man in his mid-40s who is happily partnered. We first met at work, 25 years ago, but it was 10 years before he started visiting. Now, he regularly pops in once or twice a week. We have the same routine: cup of tea, chocolate mini roll and a sensible chat, then we nip upstairs and debrief for fun. And what fun it is – better than all the fun I have had before.
Previous boyfriends have come and gone. All have been good, but this guy is here and now – and I love it. I dare not ever say the word love aloud, but it is love for my part: I love him to bits. But I never dare say that word to him as he appears quite happy with his partner. Is he, though? I keep my fingers crossed.
The partner knows I exist, but we will never meet socially. They are not civil partners or married, but live together. Pictures of them appear on Facebook, enjoying their leisure activities, but I never click “like”. I prefer to remain in the background.
I don’t even ask whether my handsome guy is still having sex with his partner. They sleep in the same bedroom, so I expect that happens. If my guy was ever to walk out of that relationship and ask to move in and be my boyfriend, would I say yes? Of course. But I also know this will never happen.
I have no idea why the light of my life keeps coming back to spend time with this old man. But he does, and I love it.