Teaser: First Chapter of "The Love Life of Some Guy", an Upcoming Novel

The first chapter of "The Love Life of Some Guy", a novel I've been working on the last few months. The story follows aforementioned Some Guy throughout his life and through his loves. Starting with a chapter that happens later in chronological time, but followed by chapters that detail a boy's life from childhood, into his teens, and later into his twenties. Only the first chapter is out of chronological order, all chapters that follow remain in order.

Written in first person, as seen through the eyes of a bisexual male main character.

Expected to publish in 2026.

Beach Dates -- Chapter One

   “I can’t fucking do this,” I said. I paced around the room like a madman. “I have to take a shot. I can’t do this shit sober.”

   Elle, my sister, stopped me mid-pace and gave me a look. “It’s just a date, you can do it sober. It’s gonna be fine.”

   But it wasn’t just a date. Not to me, it wasn’t.

   Sure, the guy with the cards some weeks ago was ‘just a date’, but with him it wasn’t specifically implied that it was a date. It was just two guys hanging out. Flirty, yeah. But I knew him beforehand. Not that well, but well enough that I knew where he’d been to school. I knew his friends—one of whom was my former best friend. That’s a whole other can of worms that I did not want to think about right now. Still, I had known that guy.

   This guy DM’d me on Facebook, then on Instagram, and then, for some fucking reason, I agreed to a date. I didn’t know him. I didn’t know where he went to school. Didn’t know his friends.

   To be honest, I didn’t care. I didn’t care about his background.

   What I was so god damn nervous about, was the fact that I was a virgin. I had never had sex. And this guy knew that, because I’d told him. I don’t know if that made him more eager or not, but I told him. This guy was six years older than I was. I was freshly eighteen, and still a virgin. I did not like that fact much. I didn’t know what it was that had me feeling so nervous about it. I’d felt the same nervousness about my first kiss, and that went fine. No reason why this wouldn’t be fine.

Nervous or not, this guy was coming (no pun intended). I had been tracking his location obsessively for the last half hour, he’d sent me it when he left home. He lived a good two hours by car away, maybe one and a half, and I’d been a mess of nerves for all of it.

   “I’m serious, I can’t do it. Can’t you tell him I’m sick? Like I’ve got the runs, or something.”

   She furrowed her brow. “No I can’t tell him you’re sick. You’re gonna have a good time, just trust me.”

   She meant well, but I felt like I was about to have the actual runs, not just the fake version.

   “Where is he now?” she asked me.

   I pulled my phone out. I could barely look at it. My hands were shaking. “Two minutes away,” I said. A rush of adrenaline came over me again. “I gotta take a shot. If I take it now, it could still work in time for when he comes.”

   “You’re spazzing out, just sit down,” Elle said. “You’re not gonna die, for fuck’s sake. You’re funny, you’re interesting… enough. You’ll be fine.”

   I sat down and stared out of the window, up at the trees. It didn’t make me feel better. The street was in my direct line of field now. My street, but not the street that his car would come through. That one was just out of sight. I’d have no idea if he was already in the street or not until he’d be a mere twenty steps away.

   There was a restlessness in my body. I wanted to take a shot, but I knew I shouldn’t. God, I really wanted to, though. Before you ask, I wasn’t an alcoholic, but I felt calmer with some alcohol in me. I’d taken a shot before my last first date. Was with the guy that I knew through my former best friend. I didn’t take a shot on our second date, but that first date was my first in months. Had to get some courage in me.

   I saw a man walk into the street. My heart rate rose.

   “Fuck, he’s here,” I said to Elle.

   “Go to him!” she told me.

   I looked at her with a panicked face, she just gestured toward the door.

   “Please, one shot,” I begged.

   I promise I’m no alcoholic.

   “No! Go.”

   The man in the street smiled and put a hand up as a greeting. He had seen me, there was no way for me to escape now. I left the living room behind me, closed the door to it, then stood in front of the front door. Fuck. Fuck.

   I opened it and walked into the street to meet him.

   He smiled a big smile and said, “you have no idea how nervous I am. You’re even more beautiful than your pictures!”

   My nerves lessened because of that. “You’re not alone,” I laughed. “I’ve been obsessively tracking your location for the last twenty minutes.”

   He came in for a hug. We were in the middle of the street. It was a good hug, though. He was strong, bigger than most of my exes. Slightly shorter than I was, but he made up for it in muscle and general mass. If there was one word I could think of to describe him, it would be ‘solid’.

   “I can’t believe you’re real,” he laughed.

   “I can’t believe you’re real either,” I grinned nervously. I could believe he was real. Still, he was more handsome than I thought he’d be. Especially for someone I met through Facebook, of all places.

   He glanced over at my house and clearly saw Elle through the window. “Should I say hi?” he asked me.

   “If you want to,” I said. “We can just go, too.”

   “Ah, it’s okay, I feel like it’s polite.”

   “Alright,” I said and led the way. Never introduced a first date to family before. First time for everything, I guess.

   We popped in briefly, he said his hello’s. More of my family was there, they’d come over coincidentally on the same day. He met them all. It was odd, but they all liked him. He was hard not to like, he was a very friendly and extroverted guy. Not like me; I was more of an ambivert who would not have said hello to my date’s family on the very first date. Not if it would’ve been just as fine to leave without the greeting.

   We were out again, soon. Walking to his car. Headed to the beach. I had a favorite date-spot, clearly. It’d been my idea. Guess I wanted to recapture the magic that didn’t happen with the other guy, a few weeks ago. And at least partly because it made me seem like a laid-back beach date kinda guy, which I’d rather be remembered as than as the pretty guy with the cold heart. My heart wasn’t cold, it was deeply, deeply vulnerable. Being the laid-back beach date guy was easier.

   When we sat in his car, I felt some nerves rush back. I was in a car with a guy who was six years older than me and at least twice as muscular, he could do whatever the fuck he wanted now. If he wanted to drive me all the way back to his house, I could do fuck-all about it.

   But he didn’t, and we arrived at the beach.

   Conversation in the car on the way there was surprisingly good, getting all the real getting-to-know-each other out of the way before we got to our date location. He was a truck driver, really loved the gym—explained his physique, he was bulking though, which explained even more of his physique—and lived in an apartment in the city he lived in. That was a positive.

—

   “Oh wow, this is beautiful,” he said as we got out of the car.

   He didn’t see the sea often because he lived so far away. I remembered he was a truck driver, so it was odd he didn’t see the sea often, but I didn’t question him. I knew fuck-all about what it meant to be a trucker.

   “I know,” I smiled. It was. I’d been visiting the beach a lot that year, a lot more than I did before. He grabbed a parking ticket from the machine and put it in his car. Then, we could really go.

   “I’m really glad I asked you out,” he said as he took my hand.

   It felt so rom-com-ish, walking to the beach hand in hand, like a proper couple—even though I had never seen him before. It felt nice, though.

   “I’m really glad I accepted,” I replied. I was, so far.

   “My friends thought you wouldn’t be real,” he admitted with a laugh. “You seem too good to be true.”

   “You too,” I overcompensated. I was bad with compliments, especially ones like these. “You’re really handsome.” He was happy with that answer.

   He stopped to take a picture of some sports car that stood parked along the road. It was an orange one. I didn’t know the brand, or company, whatever the hell it is with cars. I don’t care about cars much. As long as it’s got four wheels, drives, and doesn’t consume too much gas, I was fine. It made me feel less of a man, though, not liking cars. I wasn’t a gamer either. Most of my friends liked at least one of the two. Or watching sports. I didn’t.

   We walked further down the promenade and stopped at the bar that was right by the beach.

   “Wanna get a drink first?” he asked me.

   I nodded, relieved. They’d probably have alcohol, and though I was not as nervous as I was before, I could use any I could get.

   I promise I’m no alcoholic.

   The bar was cozy, it had the typical beach-bar decor. Wood—some light blue, most just regular tints—and the drink menu hung on wooden planks connected by a thick rope. We sat down on the far end, by the windows that looked out over the sea. We were still outside, it was a very open-concept type of bar. Only the bar itself had a roof over it.

   A lady came to take our order.

   “Red wine for me,” I said.

   “A beer for me. What do you have on tap?” my date asked.

   She named some beers. I wasn’t into beer, and I wouldn’t be for years. He picked one. She left.

   “It’s beautiful out here,” he said. “You picked right.”

   “Thanks,” I smiled. “Glad you like it.”

   “I do,” he said with a grin. “but not as much as I like you. Really, I can’t believe how lucky I am.”

   “Yeah, same.”

   “Did the other guy text you back yet?”

   He knew about the guy that ghosted me, the one I knew through my ex best friend. I’d told him  about it when he asked me out. I had a feeling the other guy had gotten back with his ex, though, so I agreed to the date with this current guy in an open sort of way, where I could still go back to the other guy if he suddenly texted. He hadn’t.

   “No, still ghosting. Don’t think he’ll reply, to be honest.” I sipped from my wine.

   “Ah, sorry. Great news for me, but he’s a dickhead for ghosting you like that,” my date said.

   “Yeah. I mean, it wasn’t like we were dating, but it still stings.”

   “I bet.”

   “Have you dated recently?” I asked him. I took another sip of my wine. I felt my nerves melt away entirely.

   “I’ve been around, yeah,” was his answer. Cryptic. He didn’t elaborate, which said enough in and of itself. “And now I’m here with you. I couldn’t wish for better company.” He seemed genuine.

   I smiled. “And thank god for that.”

—

   The blue sea washed over the sand a bit farther away. Seagulls cawed overhead. Do seagulls caw? I feel like they yell.

   We sat on one of those beach chairs you have to hire before you can sit in them—we didn’t hire it, though, and no one looked like they were about to stop us. Who even enforces that kind of thing?

   It was a busy day at the beach. Even though it was some time around six, maybe seven, there were a lot of tourists left. A lot of people from our own country too. It was one of those summer days. And a lot of children. Some sat only a few chairs away from us.

   We didn’t care. We sat in the chair, I leaned on him. We’d had two drinks each. I two wine, he two or three beers. I was tipsier than he was, but it felt right. In that moment, I had no care in the world. He was warm, my feet sat in the sand, my view was the beautiful, far-reaching sea.

   “Want to kiss?” he asked me.

   That was not the thing I was nervous for, so yes, naturally. I hadn’t kissed since my first kiss when I was fifteen—that was three years ago. But I wasn’t nervous about kissing.

   “Yeah,” I said.

   So we did. Even though there were kids sitting nearby. I saw the parents look at us with an upset stare, but they said nothing. And I didn’t care. I felt a bit bad, but I was tipsy, he was a good kisser, and I was the laid-back beach date type of guy.

   I smiled in between the kisses, he did too. It felt like he matched my energy, and it was nice. He was a better kisser than my first boyfriend. Damn. I could get used to this.

   His slight stubble prickled against my clean-shaven face. I’d never felt safer than I did in that moment, in his embrace. He was just so large.

   I was a tall guy, I hadn’t often felt held before. All of my previous partners, both girls and boys, had been shorter than I was. But with this guy, it felt like I didn’t have to worry about anything. Like he’d catch me if I fall, spoke to people I didn’t want to speak to for me, and I felt held. It helped that he was as big as he was.

   My hand wandered over him, over his chest, then to the back of his head. He seemed to like my fingers curling through his hair. His hair was short at the back of his head. The top part of his hair was longer. It was a bit rough, the texture you get when you spend some time on the beach with sand getting stuck in it.

   We made out for god knows how long. It was fantastic.

   At some point, we got up from the chair—the parents of those kids stared us down until we were gone from their sight, I didn’t blame them, we hadn’t been that quiet. Nothing like moaning or whatever, but kissing isn’t soundless—and started walking over the sand, along the waterline.

   There was another couple making out, we acknowledged one another with a laugh and the guy in that one even stuck his thumb up. It felt so carefree. I hadn’t often felt like it.

—

   The warmth of the car around us felt nice after the windiness outside. It’d started to come in, the wind. And when you’re at the beach, that can get real annoying real quick. Luckily it was close to eleven in the evening, so we would’ve gone home soon anyway.

   We were still making out. Like I said, he was a good kisser. His hand was behind my head, then slowly made its way along my chest and stomach. Then lower, until it sat on my leg.

   Tingles shot down. And up. A lot of them shot up. I became very acutely aware of my own body. The fabric of the car’s seat under my legs. The prickle of carpet underneath one of my feet. I was missing a slide, I lost it somewhere on the beach. I’d never lost something when making out before. We both thought it was funny as hell. We tried looking for it, but we couldn’t find it.

   His hand made its way up my leg. I didn’t stop him.

   He stopped kissing me then. “Are you okay with it?” he asked me.

   It was considerate of him. “Yeah,” I said.

   “You sure?”

   “Yeah, it’s fine.”

   He knew I was a virgin.

   We got back into the kiss. Nerves shot through my body, though. His hand slipped into my pants. He started doing his thing.

   He was alright, but didn’t make me finish. He put my hand in his pants, then. I still had my eyes closed because we were kissing. I never did shit like that before to someone else, so I had no idea if I was doing it right. He didn’t stop me, so I figured it must be somewhat okay.

   We went on for a while.

   It didn’t feel bad, but it didn’t feel like how I expected it to. It wasn’t as great as I thought it’d be. I could just do that myself and have a more successful result.

   We didn’t go any further—we were in a car, and I was too tall to climb onto him. Vice versa didn’t work either. He wasn’t one to “climb on top”.

   After a good half hour of making out and handies in the car—didn’t finish once—we left the parking lot.

   A very romantic first date, and a very cheap first time ‘doing hand stuff’.