Alfie

I remember the night I left for my mum's house, right before I walked out the door, I looked at them, sat together on the couch that my Ben and I had bought together, and asking, dazed, if they said each other's names during sex, because wasn't that weird, saying your own names?

They both just looked at me with the same mix of horror and embarrassment they'd been regarding me with since I'd walked into the bedroom and my Ben had his pelvis nestled against the other Ben's arse cheeks. I've since come to the conclusion that they absolutely did, because my Ben refused to answer this question, no matter how many times I put it to him.

They both just looked at me with the same mix of horror and embarrassment they'd been regarding me with since I'd walked into the bedroom and my Ben had his pelvis nestled against the other Ben's arse cheeks. I've since come to the conclusion that they absolutely did, because my Ben refused to answer this question, no matter how many times I put it to him.

I trudged across York, on foot because the car was broken, with my rucksack and my phone, and I was still crying when Mum opened the door to me. She made me a cup of tea, finished moving the suitcases and put me to bed. surrounded by all the strange off-season objects which had taken up residence in my absence.

I trudged across York, on foot because the car was broken, with my rucksack and my phone, and I was still crying when Mum opened the door to me. She made me a cup of tea, finished moving the suitcases and put me to bed. surrounded by all the strange off-season objects which had taken up residence in my absence.

I had assumed that first night that my Ben would come to me with snivelling apologies and I'd forgive him like all the other times I'd discovered his infidelity. However, when I returned back to our flat to pick up more underwear, I found other Ben making a cup of coffee in the kitchen, entirely nude, but for a pair of my socks. At that point, I decided I could probably do better.

I had assumed that first night that my Ben would come to me with snivelling apologies and I'd forgive him like all the other times I'd discovered his infidelity. However, when I returned back to our flat to pick up more underwear, I found other Ben making a cup of coffee in the kitchen, entirely nude, but for a pair of my socks. At that point, I decided I could probably do better.

So my couple of nights back at mum's became a few weeks. Those few weeks became a few months. Christmas came and we decondomed the tree, letting it take pride of place in the living room. And when the festive period was over, mum wordlessly removed the baubles, disassembled the tree and shoved it up in the loft. The ironing board also resumed its old folded position in the downstairs low.

So my couple of nights back at mum's became a few weeks. Those few weeks became a few months. Christmas came and we decondomed the tree, letting it take pride of place in the living room. And when the festive period was over, mum wordlessly removed the baubles, disassembled the tree and shoved it up in the loft. The ironing board also resumed its old folded position in the downstairs low.

I still share a room with the stationary bike and the winter coats though. Through all of this, mum had not once brought up the fact that I could not, in fact, stay living back in my childhood home forever. Are you hoping to not have to put the tree in the attic after Christmas? I asked her. Mum sighed. No, it's not that. It's just she gestured vaguely at my entire body.

I still share a room with the stationary bike and the winter coats though. Through all of this, mum had not once brought up the fact that I could not, in fact, stay living back in my childhood home forever. Are you hoping to not have to put the tree in the attic after Christmas? I asked her. Mum sighed. No, it's not that. It's just she gestured vaguely at my entire body.

You don't seem happy, Elfie. I asked if she thought turning out on the street would put a spring in my stub. No, Mum sighed. Of course not. You can stay as long as you need to, but I'm worried that maybe you're worried about moving on. Have you even, you know, been with any lads since? I asked her if she really wanted an answer to that question, which of course she didn't. The answer was no.

You don't seem happy, Elfie. I asked if she thought turning out on the street would put a spring in my stub. No, Mum sighed. Of course not. You can stay as long as you need to, but I'm worried that maybe you're worried about moving on. Have you even, you know, been with any lads since? I asked her if she really wanted an answer to that question, which of course she didn't. The answer was no.

Sorry, I just worry, my mum said. You should be in love. You should at least be out looking for it. And you need to take fewer shifts at work. That hospital is going to put you in an early grave. I told her that at least if I was going to have a heart attack, I'd be in the right place for it. She was right in the end, though. Though not in the ways she thought.

Sorry, I just worry, my mum said. You should be in love. You should at least be out looking for it. And you need to take fewer shifts at work. That hospital is going to put you in an early grave. I told her that at least if I was going to have a heart attack, I'd be in the right place for it. She was right in the end, though. Though not in the ways she thought.

I took my sad half-Golden Grahams, half-cornflakes up to my room and wondered if Mum was right. It had been comforting to hear her telling me there was no rush, that if I didn't want to dive back into the dating pool before I was ready, that was fine. My friends were in the opposite camp, strong believers in that not-so-old adage that the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.

I took my sad half-Golden Grahams, half-cornflakes up to my room and wondered if Mum was right. It had been comforting to hear her telling me there was no rush, that if I didn't want to dive back into the dating pool before I was ready, that was fine. My friends were in the opposite camp, strong believers in that not-so-old adage that the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.

I did briefly toy with the idea of looking for someone else called Alfie that I could sleep with just to see what it was like, but Turns out most men called Alfie would be considered geriatric patients if they came into the hospital, and I couldn't even tell whether any of the ones I'd found were gay.

I did briefly toy with the idea of looking for someone else called Alfie that I could sleep with just to see what it was like, but Turns out most men called Alfie would be considered geriatric patients if they came into the hospital, and I couldn't even tell whether any of the ones I'd found were gay.

It was one thing to walk up to a pretty guy in a bar and flirt with him to test the waters, and another entirely to approach someone's grandad who isn't even hot and say, hey, you've got the same name as me, fancy a shag to cure my trauma? Feeling quite sorry for myself, I dug my phone out of my jacket to scroll through as I ate my depressingly padded out pole of golden grahams and Yep.