My Big Fat Gay Life (48 page)

I stood in the bathroom, staring at my reflection in the mirror. Two weeks had passed since I was assaulted, but I still had large yellow bruises covering my face and body. They were fading, but still quite obvious.

After the attack, I’d spent three days in hospital. In that time, the police had found and arrested the three youths who had committed the violent attack. The local media had picked up on the homophobic attack and camped out in the hospital, as well as outside our home.

Since coming home, the only time I’d been outside was for appointments with the dentist to repair the damage done to my teeth. So far, I’d successfully avoided doing any media interviews. I hoped the interest in the story would die down soon.

Without warning, the bathroom door flung open and Ryan burst into the room.

“I’m sorry!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t realise anybody was in here.” He’d obviously just returned from his jog, as he was sweaty and only wearing a pair of jogging shorts. “I was just going to grab a quick shower.”

“It’s fine,” I said, lowering myself onto the toilet lid. “I was just leaving. I’ve spent too much time wallowing in self-pity and staring into the mirror anyway.”

“You can stay if you want to talk,” Ryan said, stripping off his shorts and turning on the shower. His enormous cock flopped into view, distracting me. Eventually I realised he was standing there expectantly, waiting for me to say something.

“Sorry,” I said. “I don’t mean to stare. It’s like it has its own gravity well, pulling in any eyes in the vicinity.”

“No problem,” he laughed. “I’m used to it. My mother always joked that the Doctor at my birth nearly cut it in half, thinking it was the umbilical cord.”

“Anyway, what were you saying?” I asked him, dragging my gaze reluctantly up to his face.

“I said you could stay while I shower, if you’d like to talk.”

I nodded and Ryan stepped into the shower, closing the glass door.

“Do you like what you see when you look in the mirror like that?” he asked me, soaping up his body.

“I used to,” I replied honestly. “I used to be so sure of myself and my path. I used to think that I was doing the right thing, becoming a woman. I hate being a man. But at the moment, I feel like a freak.”

“You can’t let small-minded ignorant idiots make you start doubting yourself,” Ryan said. “The moment they see someone who varies slightly from their norm, they become aggressive and defensive of their own position. You wouldn’t believe the things people used to say to me about my cock when I was a kid, living on the projects.”

“I wouldn’t mind if they picked on me for having a big cock,” I told him, “but they assaulted me because I
have
a cock. I’m not a woman, and I’m not a man. I’m just some freakish hybrid.” I felt tears spring to my eyes.

“That’s not true at all, Toni,” Ryan said, opening the glass door and leaning out to look me directly in the eyes. “You’re a woman; a beautiful woman, inside and out. You’re strong, capable, and quite powerful. You’re much stronger than the scum who attacked you, and far too strong to let small-minded morons with tiny dicks plant doubts in your mind. Who cares if your plumbing isn’t quite right.”

“Thank you,” I said, jumping up from the toilet and giving Ryan a peck on the cheek before leaving the bathroom. He actually blushed. My confidence had taken a beating when I’d taken a physical beating, but unlike the bruises on my face I hadn’t allowed it to heal. Ryan’s words were a balm to my soul. “That’s just what I needed to hear.”

* * *

I was sitting in my room, reading, when there was a knock on the door. I looked up as the door opened, and Patricia’s face appeared around the door.

“There’s somebody here to see you, Darling,” she said, opening the door wider.

“Anthony!” I exclaimed. “What are you doing here? I have nothing to say to you!”

“I think you should listen to him,” Patricia said calmly, shoving Anthony through the door and closing it as she left. I crossed my arms and glared at him.

“I realise I’m probably the last person you want to see right now,” he began.

“Damn right!” I agreed. “Please leave.”

“Please, just hear me out,” he said, pleadingly. “I have a speech all prepared, and I’d like to get through it.”

I sighed and looked away from him, staring out the window.

“I’m not like my friends,” he said. “Well… ex-friends. I always knew that they’re mean and intolerant, but I had no idea how violent they are.”

“You should have been arrested too,” I grumbled. “Guilty by association.”

“Toni,” he said softly, drawing my attention to his big brown puppy-dog eyes. “The moment the ambulance and police arrived and I knew you were going to be OK, I gave all their names and addresses to the officers. What they did was inexcusable, and they should be punished.”

“Is that how they found them?” I asked him. “I thought there was CCTV footage.”

“There was,” he replied, “but it was too dark to make out any details. I don’t know why I tried so hard to fit in with those guys. I was stupid.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked him, quite abruptly. “What does it matter what I think of you?”

“Because I like you,” he replied. “I think you’re well fit.”

“I don’t look real good at the moment,” I said, blushing. “No make-up. Daggy clothes. Covered in bruises.”

“I think you look perfect,” Anthony said. “When you’re ready, I’d like to take you on a proper date.”

“Seriously!” I exclaimed. “You’re the guy that blew chunks when you fondled my junk.”

“I know. I was surprised, and very drunk. A little warning would have been nice. I’d drunk way too much. I needed to, so that I’d have the courage to approach you. Even now I’m sweating and nervous. I’m so sorry for everything that’s happened between us.”

He held his hands out to me, and I took them in my own. They felt cold and clammy, and I felt a slight tremor pass through them. I was silent for a few minutes, drinking in his sincere eyes.

“No,” I said coldly, releasing his hands. “I just can’t see us dating. I wouldn’t know whether to kiss you or smack you at the end of the date.”

“I understand,” he said. As he made his way to the door, he shuffled his feet on the floor and hung his head in shame and rejection.

“Wait,” I said, standing up. “Where’re you going? Are you going to give up that easily?”

He stopped and turned to face me, genuine hope blossoming in his eyes. “Toni, would you please go on a date with me?” he asked.

“OK,” I relented. “A date. Should be interesting. But believe me, I’m going to make you work for it. It’s going to take more than gorgeous brown puppy-dog eyes for redemption.”

Anthony smiled, his teeth and eyes shining.

“Brilliant!” he exclaimed. “I’m going before you change your mind.”

He scurried across to the door and opened it, then rushed down the stairs.

“Anthony!” I heard Patricia’s voice call out to him. “Don’t forget the flowers next time!”

During the two weeks since Ryan had moved into our home, I’d started spending more and more time at work. It wasn’t a conscious choice; it just happened. As I waited for Ruth to arrive for her appointment, I pondered why.

Ryan and Donovan were getting along great! You’d think I’d be pleased about that, but for some reason I wasn’t. They were spending a lot of time together, watching football and playing cards. At times I felt like their maid, preparing snacks and cleaning up after them.

I have no right to be jealous. Ryan is still fucking me regularly, and spends most nights in bed with me. He gets along well with Toni, and Donovan adores him. Ryan had it made! He had as much company as he liked, and as much sex as he needed.

Donovan couldn’t achieve an erection yet, so obviously nothing sexual was happening between him and Ryan. Therefore, my jealousy had to be over the time they spent together. Good quality time. I felt excluded, and it stung!

So that must be why I was spending so much time at work. If they were excluding me, then I wanted it – on some subconscious level – to be because I was working, not because I wasn’t wanted or welcome.

“Hi Patricia,” Ruth said tentatively, shaking me from my reverie. I looked up from my notes to see her standing in the doorway.

“Ruth Darling!” I exclaimed, coming from behind my desk and greeting her with a kiss on the cheek. “Please come in and sit down.”

“I always feel like a fraud when I come here,” she stated as she sat in a chair. “I can’t help but feel you should be spending your time with someone who deserves and needs it more.”

“What a load of rubbish!” I exclaimed. “I can’t think of a better way to spend my time than with you.” Ruth smiled, weakly.

“How was your week?” I asked her, sitting in my chair.

“It was OK,” Ruth said. “I’m doing fine today, but I’ve had a few days where it was a struggle to get out of bed. The medication doesn’t seem to be doing anything.”

“When you say ‘struggle to get out of bed’, do you mean mentally or physically?”

“Mentally,” Ruth answered. “I feel fine physically. I just can’t stop crying at inappropriate times. I have no motivation, no drive. I feel like a ghost, with no substance in the world.”

I was concerned, but not overly worried. The fact that she hadn’t mentioned any pain indicated the depression hadn’t deepened.

“The medication can take several weeks to reach full efficacy,” I told her. She simply nodded.

“Any negative thoughts or desires?” I asked her.

“You mean do I think of killing myself?” She countered, and I nodded. “No.”

“OK,” I said. “Let’s begin. You know the routine: we’re going to work on triggers and reactions.”

* * *

After Ruth left, I went out for some lunch. It felt good to have some alone time, although I spent most of the hour contemplating my feelings relating to having Ryan in our home.

I had no right to be jealous. I was the one who had an affair for several months with the man. I had to learn to share him: he wasn’t mine, at least not anymore.

When I returned from lunch, Justin was waiting to see me.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” I told him.

“No problem,” he replied, kissing me on the cheek.

“Would you like to come into my office?” I asked him.

We made our way into my office, and Justin sat in a chair while I perched myself on my desk.

“I’m sorry to hear about your job at the Rape Crisis Centre,” I told him.

“It’s fine,” he said. “It wasn’t a good fit. I’m not your typical rape victim.”

“I’ll get straight to the point then,” I said. “I want you to come and work here as a counsellor.”

“Here!” he exclaimed. “I’m not your typical gay man either. In fact, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not gay at all.”

“You don’t have to be gay to work here, silly,” I pointed out. “I think your attitude and approach to life would be invaluable.”

“But I’m not a qualified counsellor yet,” he responded.

“So until you are, all you’ll be able to do is observe the others. What do you think?”

“I have to think about it,” Justin replied. “I need to talk to Ruth, and I need to sort out in my mind if I think I can actually be of any use here.”

“Great!” I exclaimed. “You can start Monday.”

* * *

During the taxi ride home, I mulled over my jealousy. I had to let it go: I had absolutely no right to be jealous of how well Ryan and Donovan were getting along. After all, this is what I wanted! Or at least, it’s what I thought I wanted.

I should be happy that Donovan had connected with someone. I ought to be glad that Ryan was in our home, fucking me on demand and providing good quality male-bonding time for my husband. Donovan needed some quality company just as desperately as I needed sex.

Another part of my mind spoke up: the part that fed the jealousy. It’s a good thing that Donovan can’t have sex with Ryan, or else Ryan would fill his every need and I wouldn’t be needed any more. I locked that thought away in a box, and mentally threw away the key.

When I arrived home, I went to Donovan’s room, grabbed the cock-shaped door handles, and threw open the doors.

“Hi Honey!” I said, and then stopped in my tracks. Donovan looked at me, the veins on his face throbbing, his face red and streaming with sweat, and wearing an expression on his face that was a mixture of pleasure and pain. Ryan looked at me and smiled. Donovan was impaled on Ryan’s cock.

“Get out!” I screamed at Ryan. “Pack your shit and get out of this house! NOW!”

“What’s up my little helldemon?” Donovan asked me, looking thoroughly confused. He exchanged worried glances with Ryan. “We aren’t doing anything wrong.”

“No, you aren’t,” I said shrilly. “Not technically.” I turned my gaze on Ryan. “He’s my fucking husband, not yours! Leave at once.”

I know it’s irrational, but I couldn’t control it. I have nobody to blame but myself for this situation. For decades, Donovan and I had lived by strict rules governing our open relationship, and I’d broken them. Now the consequences were more than I could bear. I can’t have my cake and eat it too. I just can’t accept that Donovan should be given the liberties that I allowed myself to have. Apparently Donovan’s little helldemon is a hypocritical green-eyed monster.