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All About Sex Book Trailer:

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IT had been a long day. As he walked home, Josh was glad it was over. All he wanted was to have a beer, take a bath, and go to bed. Saturday night. No wonder his social life was non-existent. Still, that was his choice. After he'd split up with Alex, he'd vowed never again to become so involved with anyone else. It was too painful when it went wrong. Sometimes he wondered what Alex was doing now. Was he still breaking hearts? Josh supposed it had been a mistake to move in together - after all, they'd been chalk and cheese. But he'd loved Alex's spontaneity, his charm, his charisma, his joie de vivre. It was as if Alex had awakened Josh from a deep sleep and dragged him into the world. Alex's world. Clubs, pubs, parties. The whole gay scene. And then there was the sex. Not that Josh had been a virgin, but until then sex had been undemanding, nothing to write home about. With Alex, it was more explosive, tender, exhilarating than anything he'd ever known. It had acted like a drug, making him high, making him want more, blinding him to the things that were wrong with their relationship.
      "I love you," he'd said for the first time. And meant it. He remembered the creaky bed in Alex's room which always made them laugh until they were carried away by their own passion. He remembered the room with its black and white photos of Paris. And he remembered waking up next to Alex and hearing his steady breathing. Josh had thought if he could only wake up every morning with Alex beside him then he'd be a happy man. He'd even tried one night to count Alex's eyelashes, like in the R.E.M. song, but had given up when Alex opened his eyes, smiled lazily, and pulled him close.
      "I have to work tomorrow," Josh had said, laughing, but his objections had been kissed away. Alex was an insatiable lover, and Josh had been carried along with him. Had it been only the sex? Josh sometimes wondered. For, although Alex was exciting, he could also be childish, stubborn, and vain. He would look in mirrors and shop windows. Sometimes he was thoughtless. Once he'd forgotten Josh's birthday, and had then tried to make up for it by buying him a huge bunch of red roses. Josh didn't remind him that he suffered from hayfever. In retrospect, Alex's gesture seemed extravagant, but at the time it had seemed like an expression of love. Red roses. Corny, but effective.
      "I haven't any vases," Josh had said.
      "Then we'll buy some," was Alex's reply.
      Life had never been dull with Alex around, but neither had it been easy. There'd been the arguments that had come out of nowhere. Accusations that Josh was too set in his ways, that he didn't know how to let go. Accusations that, later, Josh found stemmed from Alex's own guilt.
      No, Josh didn't want to go through that again.
      Suddenly he became aware of voices. A group of youths had just turned the corner and were coming towards him. It sounded as if they'd spent the evening in the pub.
      "Uh-oh. Homophobe alert!" the one at the front said.
      "Not bad-looking, though," said another, giggling at his own wit.
      "Halt! Who goes there?" said the first.
      Josh said nothing, but they were blocking the pavement, so he was forced to stop.
      "Friend or foe?" someone asked.
      "The strong, silent type," said the leader of the group.
      "Just my luck!" More giggles.
      "I thought we were going for a Chinese?" A different voice. Quieter, apologetic.
      The first boy looked up. "Yeah, come on, girls. We're wasting time with this one."
      As they passed, the boy with the quiet voice mouthed:'Sorry' to Josh.
      Their eyes met, and there was a flash of mutual recognition of each other's sexuality. Then someone yelled: "Come on, Sam, I thought you were hungry!" and the boy moved on.
      Straight-looking. That had always been Josh's problem. Ordinarily, of course, it was an advantage. School, work - he'd never been picked on, never been outed. But the boy had guessed, had seen through him. Had Josh reacted more than usually when he'd looked at - what did the other kid call him? - Sam? He supposed he must have. Luckily Sam seemed sensible, or hadn't had as much to drink as the others. Probably driving. The boy had a nice smile. Nice eyes, too. And friendly. Not much to go on. Far too young for Josh, though. Anyway, Josh didn't want any complications in his life. He'd got a good job, a nice house, and didn't want or need a relationship. Most of his friends had forgotten he was gay. Even his mother had stopped asking when he was going to settle down. Maybe she just didn't want him to make another mistake like he had with Alex.
      He turned left into Manor Road, and soon reached number 89 where he put his key in the lock and let himself in. Home at last. On the mat was a letter with a '£1.21 to pay' sticker. Inside lay a request for a donation from one of the main political parties, not even the one he half-heartedly supported.
      In the kitchen, he took a bottle of Stella Artois from the fridge, poured it into a glass, and carried the glass through to the lounge. Nothing much on television.
      Upstairs, he ran a bath, stepped in once the water was at the right temperature, and lay back and closed his eyes. Another day over. Tomorrow was Sunday, and he would read the papers and doze in front of the television. Another week gone. It wasn't a bad life.

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