Babysitting with Robert

It took 12 weeks from the day I met him if we're talking about the passing of time. In reality it was 12 days. Every Saturday night I would babysit for his daughter and son-in-law. His grandkids were one of the few happy constants in my life at the time. I loved spending time with them when their parents took the night off. I was 18 years old and dealing with your usual teenage problems, but I had a special way of making things even more difficult for myself. I don't know if I was depressed but I certainly wasn't happy, but then I met Robert.

Over the next 12 weeks of babysitting I would spend time with him that grew each week and blossomed into something special. Time that took me from the mess I had become and fixed me and my self-esteem. Time that helped me take back control of how I behaved and realise that I could find joy in sex and love again. Time that healed me.

Maybe that seems quite dramatic. I was only 18 and life was far from over, but I was way off the rails and needed something or someone to guide me back and he did just that. All he had to do was be there for me, listen to me vent and care. He cared so much. He gave me advice when I needed it, talked me up even when I didn't believe it and offered me friendship I could have never expected.

And sure, he got his dick wet in the end but he could never have anticipated that. He talked himself into my clutches but he did it with the purest of hearts. Accidentally getting himself laid a week at a time. Those 12 weeks were the most important of my life, and there's little I love more than reminiscing over them.

**

Week one was the week I met him.

I had been watching the kids for maybe 6 months at that point, but he had never visited during that time. He was working a different shift at work and on this random spring Saturday night he decided to show up to see his 'two little gremlins' before heading home. His daughter Cerys texted me that he was stopping by so I didn't feel too uncomfortable opening the door to a stranger. I felt a lot better when the children pounced on him screaming 'grandpa'.

He was only there for about 20 minutes, and we barely spoke. He was focused on the little ones, telling them all about his week dealing with Bill and Ben the Flowerpot Men at work. Either he worked at the garden centre or the three of them were going insane. He thanked me for looking after them and told me he might stop by after work each week while he was burdened with the Saturday shift.

**

Week 2 was the week I learned his name.

I typically worked from about five until midnight. Cerys and Matthew liked to get out early on their joint night off. They would go for a big meal and then head out for a private drink, before joining up with some friends at the back end of the night. Sometimes they overshot midnight and that was good because I would get a bonus.

Robert got there at about 6 o'clock. He didn't stay long that week either, but he did introduce himself properly. He told me his name and that he was Cerys' father, in case I didn't know already. I introduced myself to him as well, and he asked me if I needed anything. He would head out to the shops and get anything that I required for myself or the kids, but the kitchen was well stocked up and they had to be in bed by 9 at the latest anyway so they would be winding down pretty soon.

He took his leave again after cuddle time with the gremlins, thanking me again for looking after them. He told me he usually came around on Sunday mornings to see them anyway, but he couldn't resist stealing an extra 20 minutes if he could.

**

Week 3 was the week he stuck around for a few hours.

We didn't speak much again, at least not as a pair. We spoke around the kids, becoming something of a babysitting double act. He included me in the little games he played with them, and even pressured them into admitting that I was the best babysitter in the world. It was a nice boost actually. Little Robyn even said she loved me.

He brought along some cookie mixture and told me I couldn't tell the parents. We baked them up and took one each, leaving the rest to the kids. He stayed until it was their bedtime, but the extra sugar kept them kicking for longer than usual. We eventually settled them down and once all that was said and done, he was ready to head out.

He asked if he should bring anything next time and I just told him he could do whatever he wanted. I was happy to have him around if he wanted to help out, and he knew what the kids liked better than me. He said he would think of something and then see me next week. I was enjoying the company overall. He was just a sweet grandpa and not too different from how I remembered one of mine being when I was that age. There wasn't much for us to talk about but the kids took up most of our time anyway. It wasn't like he was going to stick around after they went to bed.

**

Week 4 was the week he stuck around after the kids went to bed.

He had arrived a little bit later that week. He was caught at work for a while after closing time and didn't get to us until about half 7. Despite having previously claimed to love me, Robyn was being a stone cold bitch that night. She wouldn't stop being nasty to her brother and then she started being nasty to me too. I couldn't get her to cool it down at all, and sending her to bed early wasn't working. When Robert showed up I was relieved and immediately handed the job of getting her to bed to him. In the meantime Ryan and I chilled out downstairs and discussed how mean she was. Eventually I had to send him to bed as well but not before getting another helping hand from his grandpa. I watched from the doorway as he relaxed his grandson and told him all about how sorry his sister was.

When we found our way back into the hallway he chuckled at me. I followed him down the stairs, but when I asked him what he was laughing at he just did it again. "Kids, right?" he finally said, and for a second I laughed with him. "She's not always like that, is she?"

"No, that's the first time. She's usually an angel."

"It happens, sometimes they've just got to let it all out." he told me. "All that frustration from the difficult lives they lead."

"Lucky I had you here!" I told him, and boy did I mean it. The only problem was that he showed up later than usual, meaning I was much more exhausted by the time he got there.

I was ready to see him out and relax when he offered me a drink. I didn't lie to him about not drinking, but instead told the truth about how I would sometimes have a glass of wine or a bottle of cider once the kids were in bed. It was a Saturday night after all, and I was usually well recovered from the hangover that Friday night had left me with. I didn't tell him about the hangover part.

"I won't tell." he said, before pouring us both a glass of white wine and joining me on the couch. He didn't stay too long, but he set the tone for us spending more time together. We mostly talked about the kids and his relationship with them. Things they enjoyed doing together, like visiting the local ponds to feed the ducks. He told me about the other 3 grandchildren he had through his other children as well. The oldest boy was apparently a good footballer.

When he left he reminded me to bring some of the cider I had mentioned enjoying. He would give it a taste and see if he agreed with my assessment of its quality. I thought it might be a little awkward to have him stick around. How much could we really have in common? Thankfully he was a good talker, and I was more than happy to let him take on the brunt of that role. I liked to listen, and he was interesting to listen to.

**

Week 5 was the week I learned a little more about him.

When I first arrived Robyn had apologised to me at his request, and when he got there he double checked she had done it. He stayed a while longer that night, and we talked some more about him. The kids went to bed early so we had time. We talked about his work, his love for plants and flowers. This was a newer love for him, something he had taken on since his divorce. The house he ended up in had a lovely garden and he decided to commit to keeping it that way. His favourite plants were Peonies. In the summertime all the kids would plant a sunflower each and they would see which one grew the highest.

He loved sport as well. Football and cricket were his lifelong loves, but he had an obsession with understanding every sport. If a huge event was coming up, whether it be Wimbledon in tennis or American football's Super Bowl, he would prepare himself to watch it as if he was a lifelong fan. It was about learning the rules, learning the players and the teams involved. He couldn't just watch a match go ahead unless he knew who was who, and what the storylines were coming into the game. Then when it was all over and done with he would take a step back and move onto the next one. It was unique for sure.

He told me he had tried to stick to some sports in recent years. He picked favourite teams who he could support throughout the year so he had more investment in the season as it went on, but there was only so much time to keep track of everything. He told me all about cricket in particular because I had no idea how that whole thing worked. There were going to be two Ashes series this year and he was more than ready. I never took to it, and it still offends him to this day.

He really enjoyed the cider I provided. He told me he was a lager drinker back in the day, but now he was old he enjoyed spirits more and more. "I like the burn." he told me. "A few hits works better for me when I'm at home. If I go to the pub, then I'll have a few beers."

"I just drink whatever's cheapest." I told him, and he laughed. "I need to do better!"

"You do." he confirmed, before clicking his tongue off the roof of his mouth as he thought about something. "I'll bring along something next week and you can give it a try." I agreed to that without hesitation, finding a relaxing enjoyment in hanging out with him. He told me that next week I would have to tell him about myself which was a gruelling thought. I had much less to talk about, but I told him that was absolutely fine before he headed home.

**

Week 6 was the week that we talked about me.

He forgot the drink and promised to bring it next time. That was probably for the better. If I have to talk about me then it's safer to do that sober. Alternatively I could just avoid that chat altogether, but he wouldn't allow that. He asked me to introduce myself again.

"Like a job interview?" I asked him. I was getting more comfortable being around him. Somehow a 50+ year old man had become a friend of mine and each week we had time set aside for a chat.

"Not quite a job interview, but I didn't shut up last week." he said. "I would like to get to know you a bit more."

So I told him about me. There wasn't much to say at that point in time. I love art so I told him that. Painting, drawing, sculptures, galleries. That was my main passion in life. It was my focus in sixth form and would be in university by the end of the year. I was excited about pursuing that.

Beyond that there was little to say. A lot of what drove me at the time was alcohol and sex and I wasn't planning to tell him about that. I loved getting drunk with friends and doing stupid things I would later regret. I'm not telling the man who is the father of my employer about that.

Instead I just told him I liked hanging out with my friends. I enjoyed time with family as well of course. I liked just wasting my time playing on the computer and social media. I had gotten into going the gym as well, and I was doing my driving lessons as well. In the end it turns out I did have a few things to say. I just needed to loosen up and say them, and as the conversation went on that's what happened.

He seemed happy to hear about anything I had to say. He brought up his love of gardening again and told me that sometimes passions find you later in life. "When you're old you might love something that you would never have expected, just like me."

"You are pretty old." I joked, laughing harder than I needed to. It was the first of so many times that I would take the piss about his age. Thankfully he laughed as well. That big hearty laugh I had begun to love. It was just so warm, and made you think your jokes were better than they were.

We called it for the night soon after, but he promised again to bring his special liquor next time.

**

Week 7 was the week we talked about life and love all night long.

The kids were a treat that week. They went to bed extra early after a full day playing out in the woods, manically chasing squirrels. The weather had begun to pick up after a cold spring and there was more reason to get them out of the house. By the time I arrived they were already half asleep and after a bit of time with their grandpa they were well away.

That gave us plenty of time to hangout, and we did plenty of that. We sat around for hours chatting about the world and the position it was in. We probably verged into conspiracy theory territory at times, and I learned a whole lot about his politics and his view of everyone around him. We agreed on most things, but I never felt compelled to agree with him. He would listen to anything I had to say, even if my younger mind wasn't quite sure about exactly where it fit in just yet.

We spent time listening to the music channels, probably louder than we should have. He was so open to everything and always so positive. He wasn't an old moody bastard who had little time for the modern world. He would listen to the new music of the time and give it a fair shake and we had some surprising agreements about which songs were good. I never expected him to take to a lot of it, but we bopped to it and laughed all the way. It was just so much fun and so different to how the rest of my life was going at the time. I loved the moments we shared together and felt so light and free to chat shit and have a laugh. It was with the most unusual partner, but it was amazing.

As the night went on we talked about love. First about his marriage, and then about my own experiences with it. I never thought conversations about divorce would be that entertaining, but I was enthralled by everything he said. His marriage had been happy for 22 years and then not so happy for a couple. It's the much smaller number that ends up mattering most, but he had little regret. It just didn't quite work out in the forever capacity, but the two of them had begun to enjoy each other as friends again and had achieved plenty of success together in the form of their children and the families that had grown from there.

He asked me if I had a boyfriend and I couldn't stop myself from laughing before saying no. I wasn't lucky enough to have experienced love yet, but that wasn't to say I had never said it. Me and one of my exes said it all the time, but that wasn't real in the end. I had to assume the real feeling of love would come one day and when it did it would feel stronger and better. I wanted to believe it would end up like that anyway. "You've got plenty of time." he told me, and I couldn't disagree.

Never in my life have I felt time pass like that night. I could easily be convinced we had been sat around for a couple of hours, but it was more like 5. Time just flew by and I couldn't explain it. We went on for so long that we were surprised by the door eventually, Cerys and Matthew arriving home from their night out. They were definitely surprised to find him present.

"We just got to talking." he told his daughter, getting up off the couch for the first time in a while and heading to the toilet.

"You'll have to tell me if he's annoying you and I will kick him out." Cerys told me, and I was quick to defend his honour.

"No, no, it's fine! We were just chatting." I told her.

"He can talk anyone's head off. I know what he's like." she told me, and my laugh told her I definitely understood.

"He was telling me all about cricket."

With that said Cerys rolled her eyes at me and nodded her head knowingly. "Oh God, tell me about it."

He returned soon after and planned to head out. He was walking because we had drunk his special rum earlier in the evening, leaving his car for pickup in the morning. I was getting my usual taxi home that Cerys would pay for. "See you next week." he told me before leaving, and his daughter pushed him out the door playfully.

"Seriously, if he's annoying just tell me." she told me before ordering the taxi, but she didn't realise how wrong she was. He was becoming the favourite part of my week now, and I couldn't wait to chat nonsense with him again come next Saturday.

**

Week 8 was the week we talked about sex just a little bit, and the real me just a little bit more.

It was a pretty normal night for Robert and I. We got the kids off to sleep and then hung out and talked for hours. Just more conversations about life, sport, music and college. I always had something to say now because I knew he would listen and offer advice and that meant the world to me. I felt so free to discuss whatever was on my mind that we ended up slipping into unknown territory later in the night.

The way I felt talking to him was so alien to me, but there was a growing truth there that he was the type of person that could help me and even if he didn't have the right advice, he would listen. I could vent all night if I wanted and he would be right there to take it all in. So I told him about me again, but this time I told the whole truth.

I wasn't particularly happy at the time. I was losing control of my self-worth and week by week pushing the self-destruct button on my self-esteem. I was a slut and it wasn't for my benefit anymore, if it ever was. I hadn't been having sex that long and I already hated it. I was doing it every week and each time it was a different guy and at no point did it mean anything. It was probably pushing a year since I last did it with someone I cared about it. At first I got some enjoyment out of it. I was growing up and exploring my sexuality, but then it just became bigger than I could handle yet I kept playing along with it because I relied on the brief high I would get from guys going after me at house parties or on nights out. People being attracted to me was exciting so I went along with it every time and I did it all by choice knowing that the next day I would regret it.

I was the easiest girl in any room and I was ashamed of it. Everybody knew I was the girl to try and pull if you wanted an easy lay. That high I would get from it was exhausting because I couldn't control it. I wanted to fuck them and feel sexy and I couldn't stop myself. It was like an addiction for a while and it was impacting every other aspect of my life.

Somehow I felt able to tell him all about this, so I did just that. Without hesitation or worry or any shame I just told him. It was like a barrage from my heart and he took in every word and never once judged me for it. He just let me say it and at that stage that was all I needed, plus we were running out of time anyway.

I only changed the topic to me and sex at the end of the night, and he wanted to head home a bit earlier. He told me he didn't want to be there when his daughter got back because if he was she may think he was capable of babysitting instead and then I would be out of a job. He didn't want to seem available because that would put me out of pocket. That made enough sense to me so we said our goodbyes, but not before he told me he was always open to chatting if I needed to and that he would help out to the best of his ability.

More than anything I was just relieved to get my feelings out to someone and have them offer me zero bullshit in return. I wasn't healed in an instant, but I already felt better.