Yesterday I invited my (ex) husband over for lunch. He brought crusty bread, slices of ham, a pork pie, and some pâté. We sat in the garden and ate together.

Afterwards we talked about various things, starting with our mutual health (he’d also been ill the last couple of days), then about problems with his flat and so on.

He said that he was looking at places in Bournemouth, which surprised me because we’d looked at Bournemouth (it was where I had wanted to move to) but he’s rejected it because he thought it was full of old people. I felt very sad that he was thinking of moving further away, and I’ll confess that I felt a little irked because he’d said “no” originally and now I am stuck in Southampton with a mortgage and limited chances to move.

A few times things felt a little tense, but I tried to steer away from anything too difficult: they are hard enough at the best of times, but I’m in no condition physically to get into them now.

He said that he’d found my anal beads (a sex toy rather than haemorrhoids), which he’d found upsetting because I’d never been much into toys before. Back in the day, toys would only be made of metal or plastic, both are quite cold. New toys are often made of silicon, which isn’t quite so cold and is more pleasant to play with. I have quite a number of toys now!

We talked a bit about the gay relationships that I’d been in and been around when I was younger. The (much) older guy who was manipulative, the time I was “the other man”, the gay house share where two ex-lovers continued to live together and bring guys home.

We also talked about some of my current friendships and their unconventional configurations.

He made the point that I’d had a lot of exposure to different relationship setups, some more successful than others. Perhaps I wasn’t as fixed in my ideas on how a relationship should work as he was. I know that fear – fear of HIV and betrayal – had made me assume a conventional arrangement with him that perhaps wasn’t really right for me. And therefore wasn’t really right for us either.

I wanted to tell him about the people I’d met on line, and about Patricius, whom I’ve met in person. I hate keeping things from him and I always have. I didn’t get the sense that he’s ready for these types of conversations yet. And I’m not ready if they don’t go well.

He stayed for a few hours, and there were moments if silence between us, but they didn’t feel quite comfortable. Indeed, he said that he felt a little uncomfortable at times.

When he left, I went for a lie down – as part of my recovery from the heart attack I need them at the moment. I was left feeling anxious, too. I hate that feeling and I hate that I always get it with somebody whom I love so very much.

I just wanted to hold him forever.