This story is based on a really early experience I had. It starts slowly, but that is the point – the time taken meant everything in terms of how I would come to define attractiveness in a man. Please stick with it and don’t forget to vote and comment.
I suppose I never really thought about him in a sexual sense until that moment. He had been our neighbour on the other side of our road for about seven or eight years. He was always polite to my folks and unlike all the other adults who lived along the road, always had a nod and a wink for me as well as the time for an intelligent question or remark to accompany the greeting.
As I reached my own going out age, and heading for university we would quite often pass on our way in or out of our houses and enjoy a few words. He always seemed so genuine and to this day I know that he never meant anything more in his remarks.
He was married to a beautiful woman, though she was frosty as hell to me and seemed always in a bad mood. That said, they hadn’t been married that long, and I could remember some pretty lively parties and after hours arrivals at his house when he was single.
Then there was that day, just after I had finished my exams and was in that halcyon period before university, where you are blessed with warm days and little obligation. I had a little summer job in the local newsagents, but just a few shifts a week, and on this day, nothing to do until the afternoon.
I decided to take a walk in the park just near my house and bumped into him out walking his dog. He ran his own business, so he was around at all sorts of hours when the regular wage slaves would have their noses to the corporate grindstone. I never really knew what it was he did, but he always had a smile on his face, so I guess he must have enjoyed it.
But this day was different. He looked a bit stressed, but still managed an easy smile when I approached. He asked if I wanted to walk round with them, and with nothing better to do I agreed. More to the point, I think he really wanted some company. As often as I saw him, he was mostly on his own and I think had quite a solitary life.
We talked while we walked, and yet despite a twenty year age difference, I never once felt any condescension in his tone. His conversation was interesting; his joy in my stories was obvious and as we walked I felt all of those waves and greetings over the years were consolidating into a recognisable friendship, given body during this first proper conversation. It was a friendship that was only ours, and with no other people influencing it or introducing us, we were equals in it.
Our walk lasted about an hour and in that time I found out much about him, as he did about me. His past had been an interesting one for someone who was still quite young himself. He had been a professional sportsman when he was younger, wrote articles and books as well as running his own business. His travel stories to Africa and Asia were amazing and I was left with the impression of a man who knew how he wanted to lead his life and had set it up accordingly.