Page 11 of Becoming Ben

I feel the weight of my worry lighten as we talk. The chatter moves to the latest date that Mandy went on, and I poke at her gently when she flushes, telling me without telling me that the evening had a happy ending for them both.

“Have you met anyone?” Mandy asks me, partially in retaliation, I suspect. “You’re an awesome guy, Trey. I know you’re not into casual dating and I’m not saying you should be, but maybe someone who you could eventually get serious with?”

It takes everything in me to keep my face neutral. I have met someone, actually, but it will never happen. “No. You know I’m pretty much determined to live out my life as your permanently single friend. You’ll get married and have babies, and Uncle Trey will let them come play with his cats.”

Mandy huffs, but she looks sad. “Play on the crazy cat lady thing, hm?”

“That’s me,” I say. I’ve worked really hard to get sober, to get to a place mentally where I am thriving and nearly ready to embark on a career that allows me to help other people who are in circumstances similar to where I came from. I am determined to keep growing and gaining strength, and I am willing to do whatever is necessary to accomplish the goals I’ve set for myself over the years. Tackling the world of sex and relationships after what I’ve been through isn’t necessary to achieve my goals, and I decided a while ago that trying was more dangerous to my well-being than it was worth. “And I’ll kill that shit.” I grin at her.

“Yes, you will,” she says affectionately, giving me a pass once again.

On our way out, Ms. Myrtle stops us and gives us each a piece of pie for the road, fussing over Mandy’s freshly-done hair. She’s gone for a vibrant, dark pink this time and wears a black and pink necklace that matches it quite well. “You always look so pretty with those colors,” Ms. Myrtle says. “If I were a decade or two younger, I’d have them use one of the bright-colored sets when I get my hair braided. If I did now, people would think I’m having a crisis.” She chuckles.

“If you want to, you should! You’d look so pretty, Ms. Myrtle,” Mandy gushes.

“Oh, go on,” Ms. Myrtle waves her hand, but the smile on her face says she’s enjoying it. “Well, maybe I’ll talk to my hairdresser next time.”

Mandy bounces on the balls of her feet as she grins so hard that I’m sure it hurts her cheeks. I laugh with her. I love her enthusiasm. We take our boxes of pie and head out to Mandy’s car, and she drives us back to her place. It’s already nearing nine o'clock, so I give her a tight, squeezy hug and climb into my car for the drive back home. I have an early shift at the shelter in the morning, and I need to get to bed.

On the way home, I ponder my life and where I am right now. I’m happy, truly happy, and I’m going to keep that happiness. I’m going to build on it, brick by brick. I’m going to finish the rest of my schooling. I’m going to find a job as a psychologist. I’m going to make a difference in the lives of people who are in the places I’ve been.

11

Ben

In the week since our hike, I’ve thoroughly screwed my Google search history. I asked my computer questions I’d never even thought before last Sunday. I’ve learned the phrases "demi-sexual," "asexual," and "bi-awakening." I didn’t know there was so much I didn’t know. I feel a little embarrassed and stupid. How did I never know these things?

When I met Sherri, she was perfect for me, I thought. She was smart, pretty, driven, and everyone said we were a perfect match. I loved and admired her. It had been easy to coast along from first date, first kiss, a little fooling around, to rings and promises and “I do.” We didn’t have sex before our wedding. Sherri had been fed the ‘good girls wait’ bullshit when she was a teenager, and it certainly hadn’t occurred to me to press the issue. I had urges, of course, but when it came to the reality of it, I honestly didn’t see what all the fuss was about. We made love occasionally, and it was pleasant enough, but more often than not, I didn’t see the point. We could just as easily cuddle up on the sofa and watch TV with Mandy, or I could be working and making headway on the goals we set for ourselves.

When Sherri told me she needed more, I sort of understood. I had done enough internet research back then to understand that my “low” sex drive wasn’t “normal,” but I didn’t really worry about it. I just figured that her drive was higher than mine, that it meant more to her, and I wanted her to have what she needed. Seeing how she was with Mitch made me feel much better about it because I could see without even trying that the sexual connection they had wasn’t even in the same realm as her and I.

Meeting Trey at Sherri’s wedding has put me in a situation that I have no idea how to handle. I’ve never been so turned on that I had to go take care of myself immediately, but it’s happened. I had never spent almost an entire afternoon hard before, but I did on Sunday.

Over the work week, I’ve noticed that Trey seems to be spending less time with me, and that makes me wonder if hehadnoticed my problem on the hike. I’ve considered mentioning it several times, but I can’t make myself say it out loud. Instead, I’ve been trying to give him his space while maintaining a friendly demeanor. I don’t want to give him a reason to leave.

The Friday after our hike, Trey comes home from working at the shelter and tells me he’s heading back out to spend the evening with Mandy. I ask him to tell her I love her, and he smiles at me just like he did when he told me he had liked my sandwiches and enjoyed the hike, and every pleasure center I have lights up.

After another session of self-love the second he walks out the door, I know I need more advice than Google can give me, and I can only think of one person in the world who can help me with this.

I make the drive to Sherri’s house the following day. I text her first to make sure she’s home, and she tells me to come on up. She lives in a beautiful house with Mitch and a very, very fluffy Persian cat. Her architectural job provided more than enough money even before she met Mitch, who is a vascular ultrasound technician, and together, they’ve built a home that, while not large, is as close to a fairytale cottage as you can get without the overuse of mushroom decor. It’s located on a deep lot that backs a wooded area, and the long, tree-covered driveway only adds to the effect.

Sherri is waiting for me when I arrive, the cat in her arms. Fiona greets me with a head boop, so I pet her and give Sherri a peck on the cheek. “Thanks for letting me come,” I say.

“I’m happy to see you, Ben, you know that. And you got me curious. Your text made it sound serious. Also, it’s my day off. I just finished a contract for a client in Denver, and I’m due for some downtime.” She leads me into the kitchen, drops Fiona into a bed atop a cat tree in front of the window, and puts the kettle on the stove. “Okay, spill. Tell me what’s going on. Are you okay?”

I pull out one of the tall chairs at the kitchen island and sit down, tracing the edge of the countertop. Now that I’m here, I don’t know where to start, and I can feel myself blushing. “I’m okay, yeah, just confused. I– well, I feel a little like a creep for something that’s been happening, and I really don’t understandwhyit’s happening.”

Sherri smiles and cocks her eyebrow at me questioningly. “A creep? Ben, you’re the least creepy man I’ve ever met.”

I laugh shortly. “Thanks, but in this case, I’m not sure you’re right. You know Mandy’s friend Trey?”

Sherri nods. “Of course, Mandy’s dragged him to a couple of family things over the years, but I haven’t seen him since the wedding. Mandy said he’s staying at your house for the summer to save money for school.”

I nod. “Yeah, he is. He’s a really nice guy. He’s been there a month or so. We’ve hung out at home, had Mandy over for dinner, and went hiking. It’s great to have someone in the house, but since I met him– I don’t know what it is about him, but I can’t stopnoticinghim. He’s taller than I am, and he–” I stop, my face absolutely flaming at admitting all of this out loud.

Sherri is listening attentively. “He’s…” she says leadingly when I cradle my face in my hands for a minute.

“He’sgorgeous.Iwanthim, and I don’t know what to do with that! I’ve never felt like this before. I’ve taken care ofthingstwice in the last few days!” I’m half shouting when I finish my outburst and admitting everything sounds far more creepy out loud. I grimace and scrub my hands over my cheeks and up into my hair.

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