Robbie
I had such an amazing night, followed by a fantastic morning and afternoon with an amazingly sensuous and profoundly sexy man, whose company made me hope and dream of wondrous things.
Wondrous things?
Seriously?
Ashton made me feel and think things that I never imagined.
I wouldn’t be surprised if at any moment now I started spewing out poetry. Or bursting into song like some Disney princess.
But as the train sped closer to home, the more the reality of my life over-rode my joy.
Today was Sunday, and that meant dinner with my mum and Dave.
Settling into my seat, I watched the countryside rush past the window, images and shapes blurred.
Much like my view on life.
Maybe it was time to do a bit of soul-searching.
Yesterday I’d been so anxious and unsure. Not knowing how I was going to broach the subject of Dad, what I’d found, and how it led me to Ashton. Then, to meet him, expecting...I don’t know what I was expecting.
To me, he was never a guy on a screen. I always saw more than was there. The smallest shift of focus, as if he were casting his mind to a different place. Sometimes I thought his smile looked a little off, a little brittle. Like he was going through the motions and his heart wasn’t in it.
Talking to him, seeing his flat, being in his space. It was like he was two different people.
Both intrigued and captivated me. It was so much more than that, though. I suppose I was just trying to analyse why he appealed to me on so many levels. All those years working in an office, surrounded by men, yet only Ashton sparked my interest. And then it was only because of Dad.
Have I been so wrapped up in feeling inadequate in my professional life that I hadn’t stopped for a second and thought why women just didn’t appeal?
Was I really that insecure in my ability?
Ugh, yes, it’s very much looking that way.
I’m usually more self-aware than this.
More rational.
The fact that I’m only realising this now makes me wonder at just how blinkered and oblivious I’ve been.
How much time have I wasted living in limbo? Not recognising parts of myself, ignoring them, pushing them aside, and...redirecting myself somewhere else?
Somewhere safe?
Somewhere where I didn’t have to question what lay at the heart of me.
Denying myself.
Why would I do that?
Because...
Because why?
Because lying to myself saved me from the possibility of rejection
There it was.
The truth I’d been dancing around for years finally stepping into the light like it had been waiting for me to stop running.
Rejection.
Not from women.
Not from colleagues.
Not even from Ashton.
From myself.
I’d built my whole life around being safe. Predictable. Acceptable.
The good son.
The reliable employee.
The man who never made waves.
And yet here I was, heart pounding like a teenager’s, replaying the way Ashton’s fingers had brushed mine, the way he’d looked at me like I was something worth wanting. Something worth choosing.
It terrified me.
And thrilled me.
And made me feel more alive than I had in years.
The countryside blurred past the window, green and gold streaks smearing into nothing. My reflection stared back at me — tired eyes, flushed cheeks, a man who looked like he’d been cracked open and didn’t know how to put himself back together.
Maybe I didn’t need to.
Maybe the version of me I’d been clinging to wasn’t the real one at all.
Maybe the real me was the one who’d laughed with Ashton over stolen biscuits, who’d danced under rainbow lights, who’d woken up tangled in someone else’s warmth and felt...right.
Maybe the real me had been waiting for permission.
And maybe — just maybe — I didn’t need anyone else’s permission anymore.
Not Mum’s.
Not Dave’s.
Not societies.
Not even Dad’s.
But God, I wished I could talk to him.
Tell him what I’d found.
Tell him what it meant.
Tell him I understood him now in a way I never had before.
Tell him I wasn’t angry.
Tell him I wasn’t ashamed.
Tell him I was trying — really trying — to be brave.
The train slowed as we approached the station.
My stomach tightened.
Dinner with Mum and Dave. Normal life. The version of me they expected.
But I wasn’t that man anymore.
Not after Ashton.
Not after last night.
Not after finally seeing myself clearly.
I wasn’t sure who I was becoming yet.
But for the first time, I wanted to find out.
I wanted to finally be myself.
Maybe it was time to stop hiding.
Maybe it was time to step out of the shadows.