Doctor Robby and his seven week flings.
Doctor Robby who can't hold down a relationship no matter how hard he tries.
Doctor Robby who pushes it down, and down, and down, doting on his partner is any way other than that, until it becomes too much and he can't he just can't, and fuck-
Doctor Robby, who has just realised he's asexual, by reading a fucking facebook post.
It wasn't even a good one.
He sighs, swears, sighs again, swears some more, and presses his hands into his eyes harder than he should.
An executive decision is made that fifty one is too late to have a sexuality crisis, the laptop is closed, and Robby at least pretends to sleep.
Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t work.
But it’s fine. Manageable, at least.
Because now he’s fifty four, like nearly one hundred percent convinced that asexual is the only word to describe what’s wrong with him, and Jack Abbot is asking him out on a date.
And yeah, logically he knows that being ace is an okay thing, but what if jack doesn’t know what that is and he has to explain it all, then jack realises how awful and manipulative he is and hates him, and then they stop being friends all because Robby’s brain is too fucking stupid to just do the thing that every other human on the planet loves so fucking much-
And before they’ve even sat down over a candlelit dinner, Robby’s stupid fucking mouth blurts out “would you want to have sex with me?”
Because as much as he doesn’t want to, he needs to know.
Because jack deserves someone who can give him longer than seven weeks.
And speaking of the guy, he takes it about as well as he could have.
Sure, he stands there, mouth opening and shutting like a particularly gormless fish, but once he scrapes his chin from the tiles he says:
“Listen man, I was hoping this would come up at least a little bit later, and like I completely get if it’s like a total dealbreaker or whatever…” he looks down and lowers his voice, “…but the, erm, pipes are a bit rusty these days, if you know what I mean…”
“The old metro gets bunged up…?” He tries.
Robby just looks more confused.
Jack rubs the back of his neck before whispering:
“Man to man, I have… erectile dysfunction.”
“So you don’t want sex?” Robby clarifies.
Jack shrugs. “Kinda? It’s fun to jerk off every so often, but the sheer quantity of viagra sorta ruins the mood.”
Robby laughs. Actually laughs.
He beams from ear to ear.
“Nah brother, it’s cool. I can’t fucking stand it.”
Boy, does it feel good to say that out loud.
It’s like he’s won the lottery
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