“Well, I guess it was bound to happen sometime,” I say.
“Yeah, but it’s weird. Like there’s no denying it anymore—we’re all officially adults now.”
Jackson and I exchange glances, both of us snorting out a laugh.
“Mase, I don’t know about you, but I’ve been an adult for a while now,” I say, taking another bite.
He rolls his eyes. “Well, duh. But you know what I mean. It’s just… I don’t know, it’s weird.”
“I guess,” I reply, which is something I say when I’m not sure of an appropriate response. I understand Mason’s trying to express some kind of feeling about being an uncle, but I can’t decipher it. Personally, I don’t feel weird about being an uncle. We’re at the age where most people are having kids—in fact, both Mason and I are on the older side; most people our age have already had kids if they want them, so it seems like something we should be expecting. I don’t understand what there is to feel weird about. But this is one of those situations where I have to let it go without fully understanding what he means. It’s taken me a long time and a whole lot of practice to even be able to pick up on the fact that when Mason says he feels “weird” about being an uncle, it doesn’t mean he’s physically feeling something strange. He’s trying to communicate some other feeling that he can’t name.
Jackson smiles at both of us. “I think Mase would love it if we could all stay kids forever. More playtime, right, babe?” He bumps his shoulder into Mason’s, and they exchange a sweet kiss. I watch the two of them carefully, paying more attention to how they interact with each other than normal.
Mason and Jackson have been through a lot in their relatively short time together. Mason was still recovering from a traumatic past relationship when they met, and Jax was in the process of upending his career to move to Seattle from LA. He nearly lost his action-movie superstar status just to be with Mason. After getting through all that, it makes me happy to see them so close and so happy together.
Scratching at the door catches my attention, and a pack of soaking wet, panting, smiling dogs covered in mud is standing there demanding entry. I grab a few towels from the basket on the floor, tossing a couple to Mason and Jax. A few minutes later, five mostly dry, very happy, and worn-out pups are scattered on the collection of dog beds around the living room.
Anyone who steps through my front door can see immediately how important my animal family members are. The designer we work with sometimes at Hot Dam Homes shivered in horror when he came here the first time, but I’d never have it any other way. Beds, blankets, and dog toys scattered all over the floor are a tiny price to pay for all I receive from my animals. Flipping on the switch for the gas fireplace, I burrow into my comfortable chair.
Mason and Jackson are snuggled together on my couch in front of the fireplace, being all lovey-dovey, and something squeezes inside my chest. Suddenly, I realize I’m a little jealous. I don’t think I would ever want to be totally wrapped up in another person the way they are at the moment, but to have someone to just be with after an emotional day like today would be nice. So nice that my chest aches with longing.
Being single has never been a big deal for me, but sometimes I do think about having a partner. When you’re a “quirky” person (andfuck me, I hate that expression), you’re at a disadvantage in the dating world. It takes a while for me to trust people and for them to get to know me. Not to mention the fact that our culture isn’t especially kind to people who don’t fit into the mainstream. I get it—I’m an acquired taste, but it can make for a somewhat solitary life. Mostly I don’t mind, as my animals keep me from ever really feeling alone, but there are times when I think I might like having another human around.
“I think I want a relationship like what you guys have,” I say abruptly. Mason’s eyes grow comically round, and he stares at me like I’ve just announced my selection to the Mars mission and I’ll be leaving for the red planet shortly.
“I—um—what? Um, that’s, uh, great?” he says, and I let out a huff of frustration.
“Seriously, Mason, it’s notthathard to understand. Don’t most people want to find a partner at some point?”
He gives his head a little shake and shoots me a raised eyebrow. “Well, of course, Dyl. It’s just that in our entire lives, I’ve never once heard you express a desire for any kind of romantic relationship.” He looks from me to Jax and then back to me. “I don’t even know if you want a relationship with a man or a woman or if gender even matters to you. We’ve never talked about it.”
“We haven’t?” I ask, surprised. That doesn’t seem right. Mason and I talk about everything; I tell him more than I tell anyone else. But sex and relationships have never been a big focus of mine, so I guess it’s possible it’s never come up. Plus, Mason was single for ten years before Jackson, so I guess relationships weren’t on either one of our radars. But since getting together with Jax, Mason’s been happier than I’ve ever seen him, and I guess that’s got me thinking a bit differently.
“Nope, dude, we have never, ever spoken about it. Not even when I came out years ago. I thought that might nudge you to be a bit more open, but nothing.” He leans back against the couch, pulling Jackson into him so that his back rests against Mason’s broad chest.
Jax, who hasn’t said anything through this conversation, looks at me inquisitively. “Do you think you’d like to find a woman or a man as a partner?” he asks.
“I think I’m bisexual or pansexual,” I say, and they both nod. “I’ve dated and slept with women, and I’ve hooked up with men. I think I could be with either, but right now, I’m leaning toward being with a man.”
Mason’s face breaks into a mischievous grin. “Oh, really?” he says. “Are you leaning towards any one man in particular? Like maybe an extra-hunky ER doctor we may be acquainted with?”
I roll my eyes at him. “Okay, fine. Yes. I think Dr. Reed Morrow is really hot,” I say. “I ran into him outside the hospital today, and he’s having some trouble with the electrical at a house he’s renovating in Queen Anne. I’m going to drop over there tomorrow to see if there’s anything we can do to help him out.”
“Whoa, dude, you move fast!” Mason exclaims with a shit-eating grin.
“Dylan, that’s brilliant, man,” Jax says in his charming British accent. “Good for you. If you find someone you’re attracted to, you gotta give it a chance. We only live once, right?” Having lost his first wife to cancer in his thirties, Jackson understands better than most how short life really is.
I clear my throat uncomfortably. I’m unsure how to ask my next question, so I just spit it out.
“How—um, how do I let him know I’m interested in him like that? I don’t… I’ve never really had a real relationship that went beyond a few dates.”
They both look thoughtful for a moment, but Mason answers.
“This is a huge cliché, I know, but I think the best approach is to be who you are naturally. Get to know him; take a little time to ask him about himself. Let him find out things about you. If he’s into you, you’ll probably be able to tell.”
I shake my head in frustration. “That’s the thing. Iwon’tbe able to tell. Every time I go out with Grace, she’s always pointing out that people like servers or cashiers are flirting with me, but Ineverpick up on it. How am I going to tell?”
It sounds a little conceited, but the truth is that when I’ve dated in the past, the women have always pursued me. I never had to really do much other than go along with what she wanted. I know I’m a decent-looking guy—everyone in our family got lucky in the genetic lottery—and I know that’s why I get pursued a lot. But I’ve never had anything go beyond a couple of dates. Truthfully, I never really cared. The women I dated seemed to want to talk about feelings and emotions a lot more than I’m comfortable with. And I know it’s a stereotype, but women are really fucking confusing to me. None of them was ever clear with me about what they wanted. They all just expected me to figure that shit out on my own, which is basically impossible for an autistic person. Even the sex was never so spectacular that I wanted to put up with all the confusion. Honestly, it got to be more of a hassle than anything else.