A thing for you

2000

I first heard about Chris from my then boyfriend Luke. Luke and his college friends enjoyed affectionally berating each other and so I heard plenty of stories about Chris and his awkward loss of virginity with a girl who subsequently followed him around college as well as lots of other unsuccessful attempts with the ladies.

After graduating with a 1st and commendations for his biology degree from Christ Church college, Oxford, Chris had ‘fucked off to Africa’. I think Luke was incredibly envious that Chris had escaped the ‘real world’ and landed himself a job as a safari guide in 'Harry's Place', a fashionable camp in Botswana where he got to enjoy the beauty of the country but also the ‘lovely specimens’ that arrived on their safari holidays.

Meanwhile Luke was back living with his very wholesome parents who came up with a new idea for Lukes’s career and future life every day.

‘I’ve lined up an interview for you at work. They’ll see you next week.’ His Dad would eagerly announce.

Luke would then deliberately spoil his chances with the pharmaceutical company by acting like an entitled knob in the interview.

‘Why would you like to work for us?’

‘mmm, let me take a moment to think’ he would then stay silent for at least 5 minutes, snigger to himself and reply ‘Oh yes, for a happy and fulfilling life.’

The bullshit detector would then ring, and Luke would be dismissed, and his parents would try to cover up their rage.

Luke’s mum would then start her line of attack, ‘I mean a degree doesn’t mean anything these days. Everyone has a postgrad or masters. Maybe you should just do what you were made for and do a medical degree. Its s shame to waste your intellect.’

When that didn’t work, they started to look at me and wonder if I was the bad influence. Not an Oxbridge graduate rather a graduate of a small teaching college in Oxford and not a clue in the world about what I really wanted to do. ‘Journalism, media or telly darling’ was my standard reply about my career path.

Luke and Chris had lived offsite together in their second year at Oxford with another girl, Layla who was a medic. From Luke’s description Layla was ‘incredibly emotional’ (code for high maintenance in Luke’s book) and would have happily fucked both of them but ended up fucking Chris and then falling for him.

One weekend, we were hanging out in Luke’s bedroom and his mum shouted up the stairs ‘you’ve got a letter. Think it must be from Varcs.’ I found it very irritating that his mum referred to his friends by their nicknames. It was almost as if she was trying to be cool which she wasn’t.

‘Greetings from Botswana. You’ll be glad to hear I do not have the fever. We had a party arrive at the camp from L.A. last night including the cast from the film Vertical Limit. Have you seen it? The blond actress, Zabella, was quite taken with my rifle skills and what proceeded in my tent had the makings of a fantastic porno.

How’s all with you? Are your mum and dad off your case about work or have you started working for Deloitte is a douche? How are things going with Reb? Thanks for the pic. I must admit I’m rather jealous.’

‘What pic?’

‘Oh, I sent him that black and white pic of you…the one just after we swam naked in the sea in Cornwall last summer.’

‘Oh no, that’s a terrible pic.’

‘Well Chris clearly didn’t think so.’

2001



Luke emailed me to say Chris was coming back to England. After increased pressure from his parents, he was coming back to London to start a master’s in finance at King’s as his parents said it was time ‘to grow up’.

‘Chris asked if we fancied a punt in Oxford one afternoon?’

‘Yes, sounds good. Will be great to meet Chris after all this time.’

As we arrived at the Cherwell, Luke and Chris exchanged brotherly hugs before Luke said ‘and this is Rebs’.

‘Hey Rebs, so nice to meet you.’

He was taller than I thought and incredibly lean. Dressed well in a dusky pink polo shirt and navy shorts and some designer specs, he looked like a model from a sailing catalogue. Luke and Chris chatted about mutual college friends mostly and what they were up to.

‘Moz is a producer for BBC Radio 4. Quite a step up from student radio.’

Chris turned to me ‘Did Luke tell you about his spot on Oxygen FM? It was around Valentines, and they decided to do a lonely-hearts section. Didn’t Moz ask why you would be an eligible bachelor and then they had to cut you off when you said your best-selling point was your incredibly large penis.’

Luke was in hysterics. ‘No more, Reb will dump me. Mouldy is working in development for Sports England. Any excuse not to get a proper job.’

‘I think Layla is still pissed off with me’.

‘Well, you did break it off with a note and said you’d be shagging lots of Hollywood actresses.’’

As Chris left them, he said ‘Guys, I’m having a party in London next month. You’ll have to come up and meet my sexy housemates, Miss Italy, Miss Canada and Miss South America. They all look like runway models.’

I hated the thought of house parties. They always seemed to get out of hand and usually found the lethal combination of too much booze and no food would result in couples arguing and lots of tears before bedtime. When we arrived, Chris had been seeing a new girl for a few weeks who he introduced as his girlfriend. ‘This is Sarah, this is Rebs, Luke’s girlfriend.’

Sarah was a private chef who lived in Battersea and flew all around the world catering for yummy mummies and their families. She had a distinct air of Nigella Lawson.

2002

Luke suggested I move in with him and his workmate in Bath. Once I’d settled in, Luke suggested hosting a flat party to celebrate the exciting news. As I came back from work on the Friday evening, I heard quite a bit of laughing from our living room and noticed that everyone had started to arrive, and the party was starting. I was greeted by lots of kisses and cuddles but then said, ‘Where’s Chris?’

‘He’s driving down now’ said someone from the kitchen.

No one seemed to pick up my eager tone.

The weather was glorious that weekend, so we spent the weekend playing games in the park near the Royal Crescent, going for pub crawls and lots of dancing. Looking back at the photos from that weekend, I had spent a lot of time sitting on Chris's knee or his arm around me when stood in our huddle in a bar. At the end of the weekend, I ran up the steps from our basement flat as Chris had forgotten his jumper.

‘You forgot this my dear.’

‘Oh Rebs, thank you. Thanks for a great weekend.’

‘Thanks for coming.’

‘Ya, ya, see you soon. Looking good Rebbie, looking good.’ And with that he drove off into the night.

2004

After a year and a half of commuting back and forth between Bath and Oxford for work, I moved into a house share in Oxford. The following week, Luke and I broke up. It was quite a dramatic scene with both of us tearful as we had been friends for quite significant parts of our young lives and experiences. He was my first and I was the first person outside of his family that he had told about his father's suicide. He then headed off to South America to ‘find himself’.

A few weeks after the break -up, I received a text from a mutual friend, Eddie, to ask whether I like to join the boys on a long boat for the weekend. Eddie offered to collect me from my house and drive me to Goring where the boat would be moored. It was a gloriously sunny weekend. Chris was still dating Sarah, but their relationship was starting to fizzle, and he seemed distracted and a bit sad. We spent the afternoon swimming, drinking and smoking spliffs. After pulling up and heading to a beautiful riverside pub we all retreated to the beer garden to discuss what everyone wanted to talk about: sex and love.

‘Rebs have you ever been with a woman?’ Chris asked.

I could see that he felt completely turned on by the thought, so I made up a completely ridiculous story that I had and that I loved the ‘sweet taste of females but not as much as I enjoyed cock.’

On the boat Chris retreated to his room upstairs while the rest of us all bunked up together downstairs. Eddie did ask me if I wanted to have sex to which I replied. ‘I would have got a taxi if I’d thought I'd have to pay for services rendered.'

A few months later on a Saturday morning, I was crossing the bridge by Oxford city rowing club, and I heard my phone.

‘Hello’

‘Hello, you have won the best bottom in Oxford prize.’

‘Christopher’ I blushed.

‘Hey Rebbie, where are you?’

‘Just heading to the gym.’

‘Lucky gym...I’ve got a question.’

‘yes’, I waited with bated breath.

‘If I come to Oxford next weekend, will you introduce me to some of your hot single friends?’

'Definitely.'

And with that I gathered as many females as I could from rowing and work for a dinner at Freuds restaurant. I knew that many of the said females were in relationships at various stages of commitment but was keen for Chris to come.

During the entire dinner, Chris and I sat opposite each other, both leaning forward as if we were conspiring. I’m not sure why Chris felt the need to update me on Luke’s whereabouts and life.

‘Did you hear Rebs? We went to see him in Barcelona recently. He’s desperately in love with some girl called Alba but she’s a bit broken from a previous relationship.’

‘oh, dear poor thing’ I replied.

Towards the end of the evening, after Chris had made no attempt to speak to a single girl at the table, he turned to me and said, ‘So who here exactly is single?’

‘Andrea over there.’ I didn’t have the heart to state the obvious.

My friend Sara was staying over as well as Chris. When we returned to my house, we all drank a bit more wine and Chris declared. ‘I’ve been having capoeira lessons. Shall I show you, my moves?’ he grabbed Sara by the hand, and I watched them both. Sara looking awkwardly at me as if to say, ‘is this, ok?’ After another ten minutes I declared ‘I’m off to Bedfordshire’ gave Sara a kiss and then Chris followed me up the stairs. I can’t really remember what happened other than that we got naked but then both fell asleep.

The next morning Chris looked at me in all my nakedness, gave me a kiss and said, ‘I could do with coffee.’ He then swiftly dressed and popped to my local shop for a paper and some filter coffee. After having a coffee with Sara and I, he then made a swift exit and drove back to London.

A few weeks later, my ex got back in touch to say, he was back in Bristol visiting his parents and could he catch the train over to Oxford to take me for dinner. In the two years since breaking up with Luke, I had met and had very brief interludes with all sorts of boys, but nothing had stuck, and I had started to wonder if Luke and I were meant to be together.

He came for dinner, and I felt as if I was on a first date with him. He stayed the night and he wanted to take things further, but I was casually seeing a lovely young lad who I didn’t want to hurt. I declined Luke’s offer and the next day got on a plane to Palermo for a week of holiday with my Sicilian friends. While out there I received a message from Luke saying that he wished he come on holiday with me and when he left me in Oxford, he walked to Port Meadow, the location of our dramatic break up and had cried his eyes out. Anyway, he wondered if I was free in a month or so to come to Barcelona. He would take some time off and show me the sights. I agreed and booked my flight.

On returning to England, I had an invitation from my friend Dr Chris, a doctor at Bristol Children’s Hospital for a ‘Bristol reunion’. He said all the other lads would be there. On Friday, I caught the train from Didcot to Bristol and Chris collected me from the station. It was wonderful to see all my male friends. Luke rang me a couple of times during the weekend to check my trip details. Chris was incredibly attentive all weekend and wanted to know everything about my life and how I was in Oxford. That night after lots of beer and curry, a few chaps asked if I wanted to snuggle next to them, but I said, ‘it's ok, I’ll sleep here, next to Chris.’ As everyone conked out, I felt two fingers slide down the small of my back. I paused but turned around to face him and as we kissed, our friend john said, ‘put your earplugs in, Chris and reb are about to make some noise.’

The next thing I remember is waking up feeling so hungover. Chris had organized a day of paintballing which allowed us to sweat off the booze ready for a night out in Bristol.

As I pulled my auburn hair up in a high ponytail and put on my black halter neck dress, I thought I hope this is the night. We did a mini bar crawl in Clifton and then jumped in a cab to Thekla. I disappeared to the toilet, applied lots of makeup and remembered when I appeared on the dancefloor, Chris had a face of such relief that I was there and hadn't met someone else. He then placed his hand around me and on the small of my back and leant in for an intense kiss. We then wondered off to a dark secluded cove in the nightclub before heading back to the flat before the others.

We all headed for a fry up at Chris favourite local pub before going our separate ways.

I went to Barcelona and Chris asked if he could stay in my house while I was away. He left a note by my bedside ‘thanks for letting me stay in your bed.’

That new year we all met again in Bristol. I had got back together with Luke and I hadn't realized at the time how hurt Chris was until Luke said ‘chris said you told everyone that I had cried that day in port meadow.’

Luke and I broke up a few months later. It's funny how hard it is to keep the spark alive when you keep revisiting old territory.

I felt so sad for months after as friends of mine settled down and found ‘the one’.

2006

In May of 2006 I met Kieron, and I had the romance I had been waiting for. There were more ‘Bristol reunions’ but I declined and chose Kieron. I received an email from Chris a year later to say he was delighted as 'his Rebecca' had said yes that summer to his proposal. She was from an incredibly wealthy and high-status family from Long Island.

I had sent him a message to say congratulations and he replied ‘not getting married. Not engaged either….’ And when I asked if he was ok. Silence.

2019

I was on holiday in Verona in a beautiful Airbnb with my husband Kieron and our 2.5-year-old George. We were just about to head out exploring for the morning when I received a message from Chris.

‘Hey reb, how are you? Are you still in publishing and stuff? Looking for a copyeditor for my novel. HOPE ALL WELL.’

I instantly replied ‘Christopher! So lovely to hear from you. I am in Publishing and Stuff and know a good copyeditor for you.im in Verona but will message when back.’

‘Rebbie! I knew you’d know a good one. Let's catch up.’ I set him up with a good friend of mine who was a copyeditor.

He’d written a novel about his time in Africa. He suggested meeting for a drink after work but then lockdown happened, and my family and I relocated to Cornwall.

2021

One morning as I was making a packed lunch for George before dropping him to nursery, I received a WhatsApp from my friend Paul, ‘hey reb, how are you? Have you heard about Chris?’

‘no what?’

‘I'm so sorry, he's had a heart attack and succumbed to it.’

I phoned him back and we chatted about the limited info he had.

'I don’t understand. A heart attack. Hés so fit.'

'I know, I don’t understand either.'

I knew it didn’t sound right. The signs were all there over the years. He was depressed. I was invited to an online wake and all the boys put on a front and chatted about the silly stories. They all mentioned his ‘episodes’.

Why didn’t anyone see it.

Dedicated to my friend Chris who left too soon, 1976-2021.