I tossed my phone on my bed.
I hadn’t heard from her for, what, four months? Maybe more. I was so done with her and her intermittent ‘parenting’. Flitting in and out of my life whenever she felt like it. So disruptive. I guessed it had always been that way. My relationship with both my parents had always been erratic. Maybe that was why, deep down, I had always secretly craved stability and my own family, because my home life was so far away from that ideal.
My mother was definitely not maternal and far from affectionate towards me or my older brother Nick. Dad was always working, and on the rare occasions that he did make an appearance, he spent most of the time arguing with Mum. It had come as no big surprise that they got divorced when I was nine and he ran off with his secretary. Such a cliché.
Cue Mum then going wild. She was like a caged animal who had been set free. She went out often and came back late, especially at the weekends, and left Nick and me to fend for ourselves. It wasn’t unusual to find a strange man sneaking out of our house at odd times in the morning.
I remember one night, I must have been around ten, I heard her moaning. It sounded like she was in pain. I called out to her, to ask if she was okay. She didn’t answer, so I got worried. I climbed out of bed, rubbing my eyes. As I drew closer to her room, the moans grew louder. I called out again, but there was still no answer, so I cracked her door and saw a man moving up and down on top of her. I was shocked. I’d seen men and women doing that on TV a few times before, but understandably not in real life. I was really embarrassed. I crept back to bed, buried my head under the covers and tried to erase the unexpected scene from my mind.
I’m not sure if she’d seen me or not, but it wasn’t long afterwards that Mum sat me down to have the talk about the birds and the bees. Cue more embarrassment.
She explained in probably far too much detail that sex was ‘a wonderful, natural experience that adults should enjoy as much as possible’, and she certainly stayed true to her word. That wasn’t the first or the last time I heard noises coming from her room. It happened at least twice a week. At least. As the years passed, I just learnt to block out the screams and loud moans. But I still hated hearing them.
As Mum had never really let the men stay over, we didn’t know whether she had a string of different lovers or the same ones over and over again. Whatever the case, her words and actions gave me my first lesson on the subject. Sex is for enjoyment. A fun, disposable fix that should be engaged in regularly.
When I was fifteen, she met Larry and began what could I guess in her terms be classed as a relationship. He did stay over. Often. And those were noises you couldn’t block out. Their sex was wild and passionate, and clearly she didn’t care who heard her. She’d come down to the kitchen in the morning after keeping us up for the entire night, tying her dressing gown and exhaling. Gushing about what an amazing lover he was. It’s hard enough to think of your mother getting it on at the best of times. But at our age? Even for Nick, who was seventeen by then, it was a lot. The way it was thrown in our faces was horrible. To me, it just didn’t seem like appropriate behaviour or the kind of thing a mum should say or do in front of her children. Either she didn’t care, or to her it felt entirely normal.
She’d often quiz me on whether I’d done the deed yet. ‘What are you waiting for?’ she’d say. ‘It’s amazing. I lost my virginity at fourteen. You’re almost sixteen, Alexandra. It’s time to become a woman! Experiment early. Sex is a skill. An art. The more you practise, the better you become. But do it safely, of course,’ she’d said.
Finally, I’d thought. She’s shown an ounce of good parenting.
Likely story.
‘I’m too young to be a grandmother,’ she’d added. ‘I couldn’t bear to be saddled with snotty-nosed screaming kids again. I’ll book you an appointment at the doctor’s. Get you on the pill ASAP.’
Always thinking of herself.
That was my role model. A woman who was desperate for her daughter to lose her virginity and become ‘a woman’ as quickly as possible.
As the months progressed and her relationship with Larry began to crumble, she taught me my second lesson: sex solves everything.
You know when you watch a traditional British soap opera and one of the characters has a problem, a concerned friend or relative will often tell them to sit down and have ‘a nice cup of tea’, as it will miraculously help make everything okay again? Well, that was kind of the strategy Mum used. But with sex.
Whenever she wanted something from Larry, or he was leaving to go somewhere and she was trying to persuade him to stay longer, or they’d had a blazing row and she wanted Larry to calm down, she’d put on a whole seduction routine, which would inevitably end with them disappearing into the bedroom. They’d then emerge again minutes or sometimes hours later as if nothing had happened.
Just like coconut oil that can supposedly cure every ailment under the sun, my mother’s actions had taught me that if you wanted something from a man, giving your body to them was the magic answer.
Of course, I knew now that she was completely wrong. It didn’t solve everything, and it certainly wasn’t always amazing.
When I did lose my virginity a few months later after my sixteenth birthday, it was far from the wonderful experience she’d promised it would be. The same held true today.
Sure, I enjoyed the moment, but afterwards, once the guy had left—and they always did—I just felt so flat. So empty inside. Annoyingly, the sex that was most enjoyable was always with the ones who didn’t stick around. The Connors of this world. But even with him, I was left feeling cold. Because I knew, sooner or later, he was going to leave me. Let me down. And there was no enjoyment in that.
Looking back, was it any wonder that I had grown up thinking that spreading my legs for a man would make him stay with me? Maybe if Mother hadn’t put sex on such a pedestal when I was younger, I wouldn’t have given it so freely to the guys I met in the hope that it would make them stay and like me more.
Thinking about it, my relationship or lack thereof with my parents was probably why I had never truly felt worthy of love. How could I expect a man to love me when my own mum and dad clearly didn’t? Once Dad had shacked up with his secretary and got her pregnant, all he cared about was his new family. If we were lucky, we got a stilted phone call once in a blue moon. He’d send money for birthdays and Christmas, but affection was more elusive than a unicorn. As for Mum, all she seemed to love was her freedom and men.
She was part of the swinging sixties’ sexual revolution, and she told us she’d rejoiced when books like The Joy of Sex (which she often referred to as The Bible) were released. Mum really believed that for women, having lots of nookie was liberating. You know my body, my choice. She never tired of telling me how lucky we were, as with the pill and condoms widely available, women could now go at it like rabbits without the fear of getting pregnant or catching diseases.
And I guessed, up until recently, I must have bought into that. Surely that was why I’d always given it up so easily. Why deny myself? If I wanted to do it, then why shouldn’t I? But now I understood. Yeah, we could take the pill to stop us from getting pregnant, but I’d realised that there was no pill that you could take to stop your brain from getting hooked on a man, developing feelings and getting hurt. Most women didn’t have any control over that natural connection—the biological things that happened in our body that made us feel attached, even when we knew a man was no good for us.
‘No!’ I said out loud as I sat up straight in the bed. This challenge was hard, and although I really did want to sleep with Luke tonight, I couldn’t give up. I had to give this a proper go. I had more to offer than what was between my legs, and if he was the right man, he would appreciate that.
As the saying goes, no pain, no gain. If crossing my legs and resisting temptation was going to help me to find that stability I had always craved, then it was a sacrifice I was willing to endure.
Chapter Eleven
‘Good, thanks,’ I replied, grinning like a Cheshire cat. ‘We went to Buddha Bar.’
‘Oooh, fancy.’
‘Yeah,’ I said, stirring my coffee. ‘With fancy prices to match!’
‘I bet!’ She perched on the kitchen stool. Stacey had quickly learnt not to get too comfortable, as Steve could come in at any minute and order us back to our desks.
‘Luke chose it. I did offer to go Dutch, but he insisted on paying for all the drinks and the taxi home.’
‘Home?’
‘Yeah. Back to my place,’ I said. Stacey raised her eyebrows. ‘No! Don’t worry! I didn’t let him come in. But I’ve got to be honest, I’m not sure how much longer I can hold out for. Last night, our goodnight kiss quickly escalated to a full-on snog, with tongues, and his hands started to wander all over me. Even though I wanted him to continue, somehow, God knows how, I pulled away and told him that I wanted to take things slowly…’
‘And how did he react?’
‘Good. Okay. Really understanding. I could tell he was disappointed, but he was a gentleman. Said it was my call and then wished me goodnight. He messaged this morning about meeting up again, so I think we’re cool. I even gave myself a pep talk last night and told myself that I was determined to stick with it, but now, in the cold light of day, I’m not so sure. I’m worried I’ll crumble next time.’
‘You’ll be fine,’ she said, wiping the crumbs from around her mouth. ‘You’re much stronger than you think, and as long as you keep going out in public places and don’t let him step foot inside your house, then you’re already halfway to abstaining. Unless, of course, you’re one of those exhibitionists who likes to do it on pavements or in the toilets of a swanky bar?’
‘Thought about it last night, but I haven’t tried either. Ask me again in a month when I’m even hornier than I am now,’ I chuckled.
‘Your strength might surprise you Alex. In some ways, what you’re going through now is the hardest part. It’s the cold turkey stage where you’re trying to change a habit. In a month’s time, you should be used to not having it, so in theory, it should be easier.’
‘In theory,’ I said. ‘I know we can’t go all the way, but surely we must be able to do more than just peck on the lips? Laurie’s rules are so strict. No tongues and not even any vibrators! I’ve had to lock mine in the garden shed as I didn’t trust myself. What about touching a bit? Using hands? Fingers? Either Luke’s or my own?’ I pleaded. Stacey raised her eyebrows. ‘No? Perhaps a banana, then? Cucumber? Any other phallic-shaped vegetables? Anything…? Please…?’
Gosh. What was wrong with me? I felt like I’d turned into a raving nymphomaniac. I’m sure I never used to think about sex half as much as I did now. It’s like since I’d begun this challenge, it had started to dominate my thoughts.
‘Nope, sorry, Alex. None of that’s allowed. Look, I know it’s difficult. The book does recommend going to the gym to release the happy hormones that give us the rush we normally get from an orgasm, so you could try and go more often. I took up karate. Maybe you could get some new hobbies to help take your mind off it?’
‘Props for doing karate. Remind me not to get on the wrong side of you!’ I pretended to cower, then chuckled. ‘I think the gym thing, I can try, though. I’ll increase my sessions. See if that helps calm me down.’
‘Good plan. Oh yeah!’ Stacey’s eyes widened like she’d just had a flash of inspiration. ‘I just remembered that one of the women I know who did the challenge also recommended vitamins.’
‘Vitamins?’ I spat out my coffee. ‘I hardly think that popping some Vitamin C is going to help when I can feel Luke’s dick rubbing against me.’
‘I know! Sounds left-field, but she swore by it! Actually, it wasn’t a vitamin, it was a herb. Chasteberry, I think it was called. Apparently, monks used to take it to decrease their sex drive.’
How ridiculous! I wasn’t feeling the idea of popping pills, but my gym didn’t close until midnight, so maybe instead of going home after my dates with Luke, I could do half an hour on the treadmill to run off my frustrations. I’d read some articles online that said some women even had orgasms whilst working out. Apparently running, weight training, sit-ups and cycling were particularly good for giving pleasure. Now that was something I could get on board with.
Then again, sometimes the gym could be a hotbed of temptation. There had been some very fit men working out there lately, and when they were grunting and groaning as they flexed their muscles, it could be hard to stay focused. I was embarrassed to admit it, but that was why I always wore make-up and a nice pair of leggings, just in case I met someone there. I know, I know. I was there to sweat and keep fit, not to meet men, and after some disastrous dates with guys from my gym in the past, I really should have known better. But remember, Laurie did say in Step Three that I should keep myself open to all possibilities…
‘Thanks for the suggestion but, vitamin or herb, whatever it is, I think I’m going to need more than that.’
‘Fair enough! Okay, well, when I started having naughty thoughts and felt my resolve weakening, I used to imagine Bobby straining on the toilet, doing a gigantic, super-smelly number two. Now, if that doesn’t dampen your libido, then I don’t know what will,’ she laughed.
‘Gross!’ I winced. ‘That vision might actually cause me to throw up, which wouldn’t create the best impression.’
‘No…but unless you have some sort of faeces fetish, it should help. If not, just think of the happily ever after that could become your destiny if you wait, or the stress you’ll have to go through if you sleep with him and then he doesn’t call the next day. That should be enough of a deterrent to help you keep your knickers on.’
‘Hah! You reckon? Thinking about guys not calling hasn’t stopped me from getting screwed over in the past. And as for my knickers, I think the elastic is getting looser with every date!’
‘Funny! But you’re a different person now. You’re enlightened and thinking differently. You’re doing great. Just keep going.’
‘Thanks, Stacey.’
I was proud of myself. And as hard as the whole abstinence thing was, I was enjoying the excitement of going out on these dates. Following the challenge made me feel like I had a plan. Like I was working towards something concrete. Like there was hope. There was even another new interesting prospect on the horizon who had been messaging me.
I’d been debating about meeting this other guy, Miles, though. Mainly because things were going so well with Luke. I was trying not to get carried away, but I couldn’t help it. Luke was smart, attractive, and confident—and he didn’t shy away from talking about commitment. I was really falling for him. When I mentioned it to Stacey, though, she was adamant.
‘You know the rules. Multi-date until you get a commitment. Whilst Luke is talking about marriage, you have to still keep yourself in the game until he makes a firm declaration.’
‘Yeah, I know. He’s just dreamy, though,’ I said. Stacey folded her arms and gave me a stern pull yourself together look. ‘Yes, yes. Point taken. I’ll message this Miles guy later and agree to meet.’
‘That’s the spirit. Oh, and another thing. This trying to always pay for yourself stuff that you’re so fond of, best to put it on the backburner. Men like to pay for a woman when they take them out.’
‘Pff! Callum certainly didn’t!’
‘Let me rephrase. Gentlemen like to pay for a woman when they take them out.’
‘That’s one of the things I didn’t like about the book. Don’t you think that’s a bit sexist? A bit 1917?’
‘Why? What happened in 1917?’ she laughed.
‘You know what I mean!’ I said. ‘I don’t like that rule. Women have been fighting for equal rights for years, and I’m all for equality, so why shouldn’t I pay my own way?’
‘I know it sounds antiquated, but remember, this is about old-f
ashioned values. And trust me, it works better that way. It makes them feel like a man.’
‘Should I tie myself to the kitchen sink like a good, obedient wife and stop voting at the same time too?’ I scoffed.
‘Okay, okay,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘What about this as a compromise, then? If they offer to pay, don’t refuse. Accept graciously and let them. Can you work with that, at least?’
‘Ugh. I suppose so. Sometimes I just can’t help but feel that if they pay for you, they expect something in return. Look at Eddie. He bought me one cocktail, which I did of course initially offer to pay for, and he seemed to believe that came with an all-inclusive Alex buffet.’
‘Like I said, gentlemen like to pay and normally expect nothing more than the pleasure of your fully clothed company. Most don’t expect anything straightaway.’
I thought about what she’d said. I supposed Luke is proof of that. He’d been a real gentleman on all of our dates and hadn’t pushed it when I’d said I wanted to take things slowly.
‘Okay, Mrs Dark Ages.’ I stood up and pushed the stool under the breakfast bar. ‘I’ll give it a try for future dates. Anyway, better go back to my desk. I’ve got a mountain of calls to make, and any minute now Steve will be on the warpath.’
‘Yeah, he’s been breathing down my neck too. But work can wait. Message the new guy first!’ she said, following me out of the kitchen.
‘Look at you! You’ve only been working here five minutes and you’re already rebelling. I’ll think about it…’
‘Do it now!’
I headed back to my desk and plucked my phone out of my bag. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to meet him for a quick drink. At least then I could say I’d tried everything.
That was the strategy I had taken when I’d met Kyle and Leo, from one of the apps last week, for coffee during my lunch break. Neither of them had amounted to anything. I could just tell they were looking for no-strings fun, so for both dates, I’d only stayed for about twenty minutes and said I had to get back to the office. I hadn’t heard from either of them since, so they must have also realised that we weren’t compatible—or, more likely they saw I wasn’t going to give up the goods. I was glad I went along and tried, though. Which was exactly what I should do with this new guy.
Only When It's Love: A Chick Lit, Romantic Comedy Novel: Holding Out For Mr Right Page 8
