Arthur

As he filled out the ‘hobbies’ section on his fifth job application that week, SLB wondered if ‘flirting’ could be considered a feasible pastime. Flirting with adultery had been a life-long passion, though any kind would do: with danger; with Mick Jagger live in concert; with a married man.Having now established his life as a narrative, SLB can now open up to the readers of this column. Call it the written version of Madonna’s Confessions Tour if you will. Firstly, and most embarrassingly, SLB hasn’t been to the Sex And The City movie yet. Secondly, and most ashamedly, SLB has had sex in a red phone box. The one in the middle of Soho Square to be precise. But thirdly, and most importantly, SLB’s deepest fear (and there is nothing more harrowing) is that he might sleep with someone who shares the same name as his Father. SLB imagines that this is a sobering enough thought for even the straightest reader, but for any stockist of the pink pound, there is nothing more shrink-inducing, than the disquieting refrain of “Who’s Your Daddy?” ringing in your ears at the most inopportune times, to the detriment of any coital action.Arthur (name changed for safety reasons…and his own sake) serendipitously bumped into SLB as he was embarking on a mission: Fitness First Tottenham Court Road- I mean, abs do not sculpt themselves! Arthur was with a friend of SLB’s, and invited him to join them for lunch. SLB was easily swayed and Arthur was fresh meat. Arthur, it turned out, was studying at Oxford.Arthur was charming and funny.Arthur wore a modest blazer, which adorned his broad, strapping shoulders rather enticingly.Unfortunately, Arthur was the name of SLB’s Father.Fortunately, Arthur was a prized flirt artist himself. So for the sake of his love life, SLB was able to shelve the name for a moment to flirt back.The stolen eye contact, the moments of simultaneous laughter, the accidental brushes en route to salt. SLB was in heaven. But Arthur, it transpired, didn’t know whether he liked bumb fun or not. Didn’t know whether he was Arthur or Martha as it were. However, years of mechanics had equipped SLB with the most finely tuned Gaydar in the Greater London area. Arthur was definitely gay. However, SLB’s ‘come to bed eyes’ were having a difficult time trying to penetrate Arthur’s rapid banter- a mixture of witty repartee and talk of, largely himself and his dissertation on something equally trivial and un-fantastic!I mean, there is only so much Oxfordian charm one can handle and so, trudge on though he may, even six Bacardi Breezers couldn’t do much to dull the pain that was becoming Arthur and his sexually indecisive ways.The problem with flirting as a pastime is that pastimes can grow dull. The good thing about SLB is that when he gets bored, he just sleeps with someone. Simple. Arthur (much like the mundane nom de plume bestowed upon him) got boring. Mind numbingly so. But don’t worry, in a silent nod to Kander and Ebb, SLB (now willing to put the whole Father issue completely out of his head for the time being) had Arthur in the afternoon…twice.The next night, SLB was able to climb back on the horse of excitement and meet several other boys. New boys. With much more interesting names. That didn’t resemble that of either parent. And he slept with one of them. In a black cab. Afterall, this is London.