Page 31 of Comforting the Grump

The breath I’d been holding escaped in a silent whoosh.

“I’m sure your primary physician explained the frequent occurrence of false positive PSA tests to you.”

“He did.”

“We’ll run another one, plus some more blood tests to rule out other possible causes. Barring any positives there, I think we’re dealing with a psychological cause.”

The word landed like a lead weight in my stomach. “Psychological?” I echoed, the word tasting like disappointment and skepticism on my tongue. The relief that had begun to unfurl within me twisted into a knot of frustration. I yearned for something tangible, an explicit problem to fix, not the ambiguity of the mind.

“Stress, anxiety—these can significantly affect sexual function.” Stein offered an empathic look, and he made it seem genuine. “And from what I understand, you have a high-stress job and place considerable pressure on yourself to perform well in every area of your life, including sexually. My theory is that the first time was an abnormality caused by something as simple as sleep deprivation or your body not feeling well, and after that, your need to perform caused you to focus on it, thus reinforcing and repeating the problem. But that’s just an educated guess.”

Fuck me sideways.

Ennio reached out and put his hand on my thigh for a moment, a reminder I wasn’t alone in this sterile room filled with hidden fears and half-answers. Did he realize he was like a lifeline to me?

“I would recommend you talk to a sex psychologist or a sex therapist if you prefer that term. We have a few excellent professionals that we work with, all of them queer-friendly and accepting of any lifestyle.”

It was like he’d seen the protest on the tip of my tongue and had countered it before I could even utter the words. Jesus, a sex shrink. How crazy was that? “You really think it’s in my head?”

“I know those aren’t words anyone wants to hear. On the other hand, I’m sure you prefer that over a much more serious diagnosis.”

“Yeah.” He wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t mean I had to like this. “Anything else I can do in the meantime?”

“Based on what you’ve told me about your tendency to explore, my advice is to be mindful of your sexual activities.”

I snorted. “Mindful? Doc, my whole existence is an exercise in not giving a damn.”

“Exactly why I suggest limiting encounters to trusted partners for now.” He met my gaze then, serious and unflinching. “Stress can have a significant impact on performance, and familiarity breeds comfort.”

“Comfort?” I echoed, rolling the word around my mouth like a foreign object, tasting its oddity. “That’s not something I’ve ever associated with sex.”

Ennio caught my eye, his blue irises soft and supportive. If there was anyone who could teach me about comfort, it was him. But we were only friends—surprisingly close, but not that kind of close.

Dr. Stein glanced between Ennio and me, a speculative gleam in his eye. “Having a supportive partner can be beneficial. It’s good to see you’re not going through this alone.”

“Ennio’s the best,” I said, the truth easy despite the false assumption.

“Well, being intimate with someone you trust could help alleviate some of the psychological barriers.”

My heart stuttered, the suggestion knocking the breath from my lungs. I didn’t miss the way Ennio’s cheeks pinked, and on instinct, I reached for his hand, squeezing lightly—a gesture that should’ve been simple but felt somehow loaded.

“Thanks for the advice,” I managed.

“The receptionist will set you up with some recommendations. The results of your bloodwork should be in by Tuesday. If there’s anything abnormal, we’ll talk about further tests, okay?”

“Thank you.”

As Dr. Stein exited the room, I let out a long sigh, my gaze falling to the floor. My moves were slow as I got dressed again, Ennio discreetly looking the other way. He was sweet like that, though I wouldn’t have cared either way.

“Hey,” Ennio said softly when I was done, stepping into my line of sight with a look of earnest concern. “You good?”

“Am I ever anything else?” I replied, meeting his steady gaze with a wry smile. It was a dance we did well—him offering the quiet strength of his presence, me responding with deflections. Guilt gnawed at me for not correcting the urologist when he got it wrong, assuming Ennio was more than a friend. The lie by omission sat heavily on my chest, yet there was a hint of curiosity that spiraled through my thoughts, teasing me with what-ifs I’d never allowed myself to ponder before.

“Sometimes,” he countered, his voice gentle but firm. “Even if you deny it. But you will be. We’ll figure this out.”

“I admire your optimism.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Ennio murmured, his hand still warm in mine.

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