I saw Jared twice that week, and both times our interactions seemed to go strangely off the rails. The first was at Mike’s Open Mic, where we were among the regular performers. Although Mike didn’t officially have regulars — you had to sign up for the event on a first come, first served basis — he somehow always found a spot for us because, unlike some of the other hopeful amateurs, we usually garnered at least some laughs, and I guess a baseline of quality had to be maintained for the night.
I was on stage, doing my self-deprecating thing.
‘Now, in case you’ve never heard of being gay before, it’s like being straight, except you don’t have a love life. You have a ghosting life.’ A small ripple of laughs. ‘You get ghosted… a lot. We are the UK’s most haunted.’ Laughs. ‘No, seriously, I’ve had my heart broken, I’ve… oh, goodness!’ A woman at one end of the front row had just given the weirdest cackle. I seized on it immediately. ‘Are you all right? Do you need a cigarette after that? That sounded orgasmic.’ I imitated the laugh. The woman and her friend laughed harder. Good, it was rubbing off on the rest of the crowd. ‘Were you laughing at me having my heart broken? Whose side are you on?! Yeees, break his heart! A-hah-hah-hah! Make him lose all confidence in himself so that he doesn’t believe anyone could ever love him and it becomes a self-fulfilling cycle! A-hah hah hah hah… Jesus, I didn’t know I’d have… Maleficent in the house tonight. Anyway… ‘