At that point he knew it was time to go. He wasn’t angry—he wasn’t even hurt. But he was starting to wonder if he could actually do this at all. Suffering bad date and awkward ableism over and over until the one, single person who would feel like a dream simply because they met basic human standards seemed like a giant chore, and he was tired.
And the harsh reality was, he didn’t know how to do this. He didn’t know how to date, how to read people, how to make himself seem appealing. He was hit on often enough to know he was at least somewhat attractive, but he didn’t know how to use that to make the person want to stick around.
But he wanted to experience more than Jacqueline. He wanted someone’s hands on him, someone’s mouth on his, warm skin beneath his fingers as he dragged out soft moans. And he wanted those things as part of an experience, not a transaction the way it had always been with her.
“Well, well, well,” came a sudden voice, and Fredric didn’t quite believe his ears. Then the man called him, “Papa,” and the shock that Ilan was there actually made his heart jolt in his chest. The younger man’s name fell from his lips in both wonder and horror, and he fumbled for his control as he heard Ilan take a seat.
Of course, Ilan wasn’t one to mince words, and it was clear just how much he’d seen when he brought up the fact that Fredric was on a date with a man. And then it was quite clear why John had gone tearing out of the restaurant like his feet were on fire. Because they might actually have been.
Ilan had always been overly defensive of Fredric as a child, and though Fredric had put a stop to it, he could feel those moments Ilan was vibrating with barely restrained rage. Fredric admired him for his restraint, and he supposed he was grateful that Ilan had taken his confrontation somewhere private.
“Are you going to order something,” Ilan asked after a moment of silence, and Fredric remembered he was still sitting with his menu.
“I don’t think I want to continue this little show. I’m sure everyone is staring,” he answered, and he heard Ilan sigh.
“They are.” He was silent a moment. “Where’s Bas?”
“With my neighbor.” Fredric said tiredly, wishing he’d gone with his first instinct to bring him. “I thought it might be better if I used my cane.”
Ilan gave a displeased hum, but he was interrupted by the server dropping off a bill, and he heard the soft clink of Ilan’s card as he dropped onto a plastic tray. “Anything they ordered is on my tab.”
Fredric didn’t bother arguing. “Are you here on a date?”
“I am now,” Ilan said, and Fredric heard the smile in his voice. “There’s this really amazing taco stand right up the road, and there are benches across the street. You can eat, and I can suffer, and we can listen to the waves.”
Fredric’s brow quirked up. “Suffer?”
“Hangover. My stomach was a mess, then I ate lobster mac and cheese—and I had a Malbec.”
“Good lord,” Fredric breathed, and he began to fumble in his pockets for the little roll of antacids that had become a far too familiar friend as he hit fifty.
“You are such an old man,” Ilan groaned as he plucked the roll from Fredric’s palm, and he heard Ilan crunch down on one.
“I think what you mean is, thank you for the help. And being old means I know better than to drink red wine on a sour stomach,” he shot back, and Ilan laughed.
Fredric grabbed his cane once Ilan had signed the bill, shoving it into his pocket and taking the other man’s arm as they headed for the doors. The breeze was cold, but it felt good on his over-heated skin, and he took a full breath of the night air as his shoes met pavement.
“I’m a little buzzed from the wine,” Ilan warned him. “I might walk you into a pothole.”
Fredric squeezed his arm and didn’t reach for his cane. “You’re doing just fine. You were always better at this than the kids. Even drunk.”
Ilan hummed happily, and they made their way onto soft, sandy grass, and then to sidewalk again. “Are you cool with tacos?”
“I am.” And he was. A couple tacos and a beer felt like just the thing after that disaster. “And I know you want to ask, so go ahead and put yourself out of your misery.”
Ilan held on for a moment longer, but only just. “You like men.”
It wasn’t a question, but Fredric smiled and answered him anyway. “Yes.”
“And that’s just…a thing?”
At that, he laughed. “It’s not something I advertised, but I was known to eye a nice ass in the locker room back when I could. I even had a crush once in college—but I was already married, so it didn’t go anywhere.”
“Mm.” Ilan’s hum was full of his displeasure, but he’d been like that when it came to Jacqueline since the start. “So, you’ve decided to lean in.”
“I’ve decided to take the opportunity to expand my horizons,” Fredric answered him. Ilan’s pace slowed, and then they came to a stop, and Fredric could hear voices, so he assumed they were standing in a line. “I don’t know if I really want to date at all,” he admitted after a moment, “but I wanted to give myself a chance.”
“Well, if anyone deserves one,” Ilan said with all the passion Fredric had come to expect from him, “it’s you. But that, uh…didn’t go well.”
“No, it didn’t.” Fredric let him hang for a long pause. “And I know what you did.”
“I…”
“And we’ve talked about this more than once,” Fredric said, letting a little sharpness sneak into his tone. “I know what he was doing, Ilan. I’m not an idiot.”
“I know.” Ilan’s tone was dejected and ashamed, but Fredric was going to let him wallow for a moment. “He was just…such an asshole. He was fucking flirting with me while he was sitting right in front of you.”
Fredric stopped, then threw his head back and laughed. “He was flirting with you? Oh, that poor bastard. What a terrible choice.”
“Yeah, well,” Ilan grumbled, “I let him know. He agreed to meet me in the bathroom.”
“Well now I just feel sorry for him.” He sobered for a second. “Did you hurt him?”
“Just his pride,” Ilan said, and they moved forward a couple spaces. “And maybe his neck a little, but I didn’t leave a mark. Anyway, what’s he going to do? Tell someone that he was humiliating his blind date to get laid in a restaurant bathroom with a total stranger?”
“Fair,” Fredric said, then smiled. “I suppose he won’t be texting me again.”
“I will fucking break his fingers if he tries,” Ilan said, and Fredric knew that one was all talk. They stepped forward again, and then Ilan read the menu, then reached the window to order. The food was done quick, and he led Fredric across the street, darting fast to avoid traffic, and they collapsed on a splintered picnic bench with something that sounded like a tin roof that blocked some of the wind.
The waves were crashing in the distance, high on the beach with the tide, and Fredric leaned in toward the table and let himself breathe a sigh of relief to be over with that date. “I’m not going to thank you for what you did,” he said, and he heard Ilan make a small, penitent noise, “but I do thank you for the tacos.”