Chapter 24
Rearranging your Life around Erections
Geoff
England are ten minutes into the match when Jasper starts arguing with the referee like the man can hear him through the telly.
“That was forward,” he insists, leaning so far off the sofa he nearly tips himself onto the floor.
Theo doesn’t look away from the screen. “It wasn’t.”
“It absolutely was.”
“It wasn’t,” Theo repeats, calm and irritating.
I sit back in the armchair with my whisky and let them get on with it. The girls had taken one look at the fixture, declared rugby “not for them”, and gone off shopping instead. A win-win arrangement if ever there was one.
On screen, England do something unexpectedly competent.
Jasper freezes. “Don’t.”
Theo groans. “You’ve jinxed it.”
I grin despite myself, then feel the familiar prickle of nerves that has nothing to do with the game.
Because, at some point in the next eighty minutes, I need to tell my brothers something I’ve never said out loud to them before.
And I’ve got absolutely no idea how to bring it up without sounding like I’m apologising for my own anatomy.
On screen, England promptly knock it on.
“See?” Jasper says triumphantly. “I told you.”
Theo groans and takes a swig of his beer. “You don’t get points for predicting disappointment. That’s just being English.”
I laugh, then realise my grip on the bottle’s gone a bit tight. I loosen it deliberately, stare back at the match like the scrum formation might offer emotional guidance.
Say it now.
No, not now.
Wait for a lull.
There is never a lull in rugby or in this kind of conversation.
“Right,” I say, a bit louder than intended.
Jasper glances at me. “That tone never brings good news.”
Theo flicks his eyes over briefly, then back to the screen. “You alright?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I just need to say something. I’ll keep it brief. I know the game’s on.”
“That’s reassuring,” Jasper says. “Because England looks like they’re about to do something stupid.”
The ref blows the whistle and play stops anyway, players milling about while someone argues with an official.
“Well,” Jasper says, pointing at the screen. “Natural break. Fate has spoken.”
I take a breath. “I’ve been having some problems.”
Jasper brightens. “Same. That last ruck was a mess.”
“Different problems,” I say.
Theo’s attention shifts to me. Not alarmed. Just focused. “Geoff.”
I nod. “This is awkward, so I’m just going to say it.”
I hesitate for half a second.
“My dick’s not cooperating.”
Silence. Commentary hums on in the background. Somewhere in the crowd, someone boos.
Jasper blinks. “Huh.”
Theo frowns slightly. “Not cooperating how?”
I blow out a breath. “As in… it doesn’t happen.”
Both of them stare at me.
Jasper frowns. “Doesn’t happen how?”
Theo tilts his head. “You mean you lose interest?”
“No.”
“You mean you’re too in your head?” Jasper tries.
“No.”
“Too tired?” Theo offers.
I shake my head, already regretting every life choice that’s led me here. “No. I mean physically. Nothing happens.”
There’s a beat.
Jasper’s eyebrows draw together. “Like… nothing, nothing?”
“Yes,” I say. “Nothing, nothing.”
Theo blinks. “Ever?”
“Yes.”
Another beat.
“Oh,” Jasper says slowly. “Ohhh.”
Theo nods, the penny finally dropping. “Right.”
“I don’t mean sometimes,” I add, because, at this point, I might as well burn the last scraps of my pride. “I mean every time. With different women. Different situations. Different levels of alcohol. Nothing.”
Jasper lets out a low whistle. “Okay. Yeah. That is… clearer.”
“There’s nothing medically wrong,” I say quickly. “Doctor checked everything. Bloods. Tests. The full awkward experience. Physically I’m in perfect working order.”
Theo nods. “That’s good, at least.”
“And,” I add, because apparently we’re doing full disclosure now, “I still get morning wood. According to the doctor, that means it’s a mental block rather than a physical one.”
Jasper’s face brightens, the way it always does when he thinks he’s cracked a problem.
“Well,” he says, “have you considered just sleeping with women in the morning then?”
I stare at him.
Theo doesn’t even look at Jasper. “No.”
“What?” Jasper says. “I’m just saying. If it works then—”
“No,” Theo repeats, sharper this time. “That is not helpful. Or practical. Or remotely how people live.”
“I’m brainstorming,” Jasper protests.
“You’re being an idiot,” Theo says calmly.
I snort despite myself. “Thank you.”
Jasper sighs. “Fine. But objectively, the logic—”
“Stop,” Theo says. “Before you suggest alarms and spreadsheets.”
“That was my next thought.”
Theo turns to me instead. “The morning thing just means your body’s capable. Not that you should be rearranging your entire life around erections.”
“Shame,” I say. “I was really looking forward to scheduling intimacy like a dentist appointment.”
Jasper perks up again. “I could make you a timetable.”
“I will throw you out,” Theo says without missing a beat.
Jasper raises his hands. “Alright. Alright. Point taken.”
The game swells again on the telly, crowd roaring, boots thudding. We all watch for a few seconds, the moment settling.
“So,” Jasper says more gently, “mental block. That’s… frustrating.”
“Very,” I say. “Because it means I can’t just fix a thing. I have to untangle it.”
Theo nods. “But it also means it’s not permanent.”
“That’s what they keep telling me,” I say.
There’s a pause. Not awkward. Not heavy. Just… deliberate.
Theo leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. He doesn’t look at me straight away.
“Alright,” he says calmly. “Jokes aside.”
Jasper sobers too, stretching out, one arm along the back of the sofa. “Yeah. We’re done taking the piss. Mostly.”
I swallow. My throat feels tighter than it should.
Theo finally looks at me. “How are you actually doing?”
I shrug, instinctive. Automatic. “I’m fine.”
Both of them snort at the same time.
“Try again,” Jasper says. Not unkindly. Just factual.
I blow out a breath and rub a hand over my face. “It’s… frustrating.”
“That’s the polite version,” Theo says.
“Yeah,” I admit. “It’s the version I tell myself so I don’t spiral.”
Jasper nods slowly. “Because the impolite version probably lives at three in the morning.”
That lands harder than I expect.
“It does,” I say quietly. “It messes with your head. Not just the sex bit. The… identity bit.”
Theo tilts his head. “Meaning?”
“Meaning I’ve always known who I was,” I say. “Confident. Easy. The bloke who didn’t overthink. Who didn’t have to worry about whether his body would cooperate.” I laugh, short and humourless. “Turns out that was doing a lot of the heavy lifting.”
Jasper watches me closely. “So it’s not just about losing sex.”
“No,” I say. “It’s about losing certainty. About suddenly feeling… unreliable. Like a car you don’t trust to start in the morning.”
Theo nods. “That’s a horrible feeling.”
“And it’s embarrassing,” I add. “Because I know it’s not the end of the world. I know no one’s died. But it still feels like I’ve lost something that made me… me.”
Jasper shifts, then says simply, “Mate. That doesn’t make you less of a man.”
I scoff. “Easy to say when your dick’s behaving.”
Theo cuts in gently. “Masculinity isn’t a single body part, Geoff.”
“Feels like it is sometimes,” I mutter.
Theo shrugs. “That’s because we were taught it was. Doesn’t make it true.”
There’s another pause. Warmer this time.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Jasper adds. “And you’re not broken. You’re dealing with your shit instead of pretending it’s fine.”
Theo nods. “That’s not weakness. That’s effort.”
I sit back, chest tight, eyes stinging just enough to be annoying.
“Still hate it,” I say.
“Allowed,” Jasper replies. “Just don’t let it tell you lies.”
I huff out a breath. “You two are annoyingly sensible.”
Theo smiles. “Years of practice. Are you getting help?”
“Yeah. I’m in therapy. Ivy gave me Pee-Pee’s details.”
There’s a beat. Jasper’s mouth twitches. Theo’s eyebrows knit together like he’s trying to stay serious.
“And yes,” I add quickly, because I can see where this is going, “I am fully aware of the irony of getting help for my limp dick from a woman called Pee-Pee.”
That does it.
Jasper collapses back into the sofa, laughing. “I mean, the universe really commits to a bit.”
Theo shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “You walked into that one.”
“She’s very good,” I say, defensive again. “Extremely professional.”
“No one’s questioning her credentials,” Jasper says. “Just the cosmic timing.”
Theo glances at me. “Geoff, I’m glad you’re talking to someone. And I’m glad you told us.”
“Yeah,” Jasper adds, sobering. “This isn’t something you should be carrying on your own.”
I nod. “I know. I just… realised I needed some male backup as well.”
Theo reaches over and gives my shoulder a squeeze. Solid. Familiar. No fuss. “You’ve got it. No judgement. No pressure.”
Jasper lifts his beer. “And, if you ever want terrible ideas, I remain on standby.”
I chuckle, chest lighter than it’s been in weeks. “Thanks. Both of you.”
On the telly, England finally manage something that looks vaguely competent.
I lift my glass. “To support. And to not pretending everything’s fine.”
They clink theirs against mine.
“And,” Jasper adds, “to Pee-Pee. Long may she gently dismantle male egos.”
Theo groans. “I hate that sentence.”
But he’s still smiling.
By the time the front door opens again, England have lost narrowly, Jasper has declared the ref unfair, and Theo has accepted this with the tired calm of a man who expected nothing else.
The flat fills up in seconds.
Bags are dumped by the door. Shoes are abandoned wherever they land. Lucy bursts in first, coat half off, announcing loudly that shopping is boring and her legs are tired and she needs a snack immediately.
Ivy follows, laughing, arms full of carrier bags. Miranda is mid-story about a jumper that was “basically a bargain” even though it absolutely wasn’t. Christa comes in last, cheeks pink from the cold, looking pleased with herself.
“Did the rugby men win?” Lucy asks, peering at the screen.
“No,” Jasper says. “But they tried.”
Lucy considers this. “They should try harder.”
Theo nods. “Fair feedback.”
Someone suggests pizza. Lucy cheers like it’s Christmas. Phones come out. Toppings are debated.
“I want cheese,” Lucy says firmly.
“Just cheese?” Ivy asks.
“And maybe more cheese,” Lucy adds, thinking this through carefully.
They order far too much. Obviously.
When the boxes arrive, Lucy is put in charge of handing out napkins, a role she takes extremely seriously. She sits cross-legged on the floor, pizza slice almost as big as her face, chatting happily about a toy she didn’t get but might get next time.
It’s noisy. Messy. Warm.
At some point, Ivy pauses and looks between Christa and me.
“You two,” she says.
We both look up. “What?” I say, just as Christa says, “What?”
Miranda smiles. “Nothing.”
Jasper squints. “That was very much something.”
Lucy looks at us, head tilted. “You’re sitting close.”
Christa glances down. Our shoulders are touching.
“There aren’t many seats,” she says reasonably.
Lucy nods, satisfied. “Okay.” Then she leans over and steals a crust from Jasper’s plate.
“Hey!” he protests.
“I asked with my eyes,” she says solemnly.
Everyone laughs.
Music goes on. Lucy dances in a way that involves a lot of spinning and absolutely no rhythm. Miranda claps along. Ivy steals someone else’s slice and pretends she didn’t.
And Christa and I almost appear as though we are just another couple in the room. No one says anything outright, but no one misses it either.
The way we pass things to each other without thinking. The way we share looks when Lucy tells an especially dramatic story. The way this feels less like a group hanging out and more like a family dinner that assembled itself by accident.
For once, I don’t pick it apart.
I just sit there, pizza in hand, laughter bouncing off the walls, Christa’s knee resting lightly against mine.
Deep down this is starting to feel a little bit like it is… more.