‘Don’t we all, Rosie, it’s not just you.’
‘Noah says I need to pick a Krispy Kreme doughnut, not a kebab.’
‘What?’
‘And I need seduction techniques.’
She giggles. ‘Oh Rosie, I don’t know about kebabs, but you just need one date. One date and you’ll know you can do it. You can, Rosie. You’re so lovely, and kind, and you’re funny and clever, you’ll find somebody soon.’ I haven’t told her my father’s latest comment on that one.
‘I will.’ Or I’ll give up and get a dog.
‘And you did have a date, and you did talk to a man, this Noah. That wasn’t so difficult, was it? Next time will be even easier!’
‘He wasn’t a date, he was just a man who I’d never dream of going out with, and we had a chat and a drink.’
‘That, my girl, is what some people would call a date!’ She chuckles. ‘Meet me for brunch tomorrow, proper catch-up and we can come up with a plan?’
‘Sure.’ I smile. I might tell her about Noah’s offer, and I might not. I haven’t decided yet, because the last thing I want is for Bea to try and persuade me to take him up on it. I need a better plan of my own first. ‘Night, Bea. And thanks.’
‘Night, my lovely.’ She blows a kiss then the line goes dead.
I stare at my mobile phone for a moment, then put it down and lie back. Pulling the duvet up to my chin, a picture of Noah pops into my head – laughing and nudging my arm. Maybe it would be okay to have just one taster session with him? I mean, we’re not going to end up dating because for one, he isn’t interested in actual dating, and two, I know he’s not the right type of guy for me. So would it really do any harm?
I think of bar guy who pretended he hadn’t heard me, of coffee guy who thought I was a loony, of D. B. Tricket my book buying admirer, of Dennis, the new divorcee who’d settle for anybody. Of all the guys I’d swiped away on Tinder, and gorgeous Gabe, who I was sure would set me off on the path to a new relationship.
I am a dating disaster.
Maybe I really should just settle for a dog.
Chapter 4
I’m early for brunch with Bea because I didn’t really sleep that well. All my nearly-dates whizzed round on a carousel in my head until I felt dizzy.
I don’t think all the glasses of prosecco I drank last night helped either.
I’m on my second large black americano when Bea grabs me from behind in a bearhug. If I hadn’t recognised her multicoloured nails (as in one in each colour) I’d have spat my coffee out and screamed.
‘I ordered you another coffee on my way in,’ she knows my addiction to caffeine, ‘and eggs Benedict.’ She plonks herself down opposite me. ‘Phew I’m knackered. Si came over all assertive after I hid the remote and wouldn’t let him watch the football. He said I needed taking in hand.’ She grins, her eyes alive with laughter.
‘Shush! Too much information.’ I put my hands over my ears in mock horror, and she giggles. Bea isn’t a giggly girl normally; whatever happened between the two of them has left her on a high that is better not explained in detail. I’m glad she’s happy, though, she deserves to be.
‘There can never be too much information! Come on then, tell me about your wild night out and this mystery guy, Noel.’
‘Noah. And it wasn’t a wild night out.’ I sip my coffee primly.
‘You could at least make something up just to satisfy my terrible imagination. Oh fab, thank you!’ She glances up as our breakfast is put on the table, dazzling the waitress in the same way she dazzles everybody. She is warm and lovely, a social butterfly and natural-giver wrapped up in a slightly zany parcel. ‘Go on, talk!’ She grins. ‘I know you’re dying to tell me something!’
‘I am.’ I take a bite of my breakfast, suddenly starving. Because I have made my mind up about what I need to do. Knowing has made me feel better about the world. And hungry. ‘On the walk over here, I made a decision. Well, three of them actually. Learning seduction techniques from Noah is an absolute no.’
‘What?’ Bea’s fork clatters onto the table. ‘Seduction!’ She squeals, oblivious to all the people who have turned round to stare. ‘Oh my God! Hit me with a copy of the Kama Sutra! He’s going to teach you—’
‘He’s not, aren’t you listening?’
‘But he offered!’ She shovels more food into her mouth and looks at me as though she’s expecting a revelation.
‘Bea.’ I sigh. I love her natural exuberance, but sometimes she needs to put the brakes on. ‘He said he would, and I said no. He’s not my type.’
‘You fancy him! You’ve said he’s not your type about five million times, which means he is!’
‘I don’t fancy him.’ I feel my back stiffen. ‘He, he …’
‘He what?’
‘Reminds me of …’ I study my plate, suddenly sad. ‘Dad.’ I force the word out, a squeak of a sound that is too small for a man like him.
Bea knows all about my dad, his female friends, his long absences from home. The way I always felt I was competing for his attention when I was growing up. ‘Oh Rosie, I’m sorry. But he might not be like that at all, you hardly know the man.’
‘He will be like that, I can tell,’ I say stiffly.
All the warning signs are there. The cheeky winks; the way he made me feel important, as though I mattered. That sincere look. And that gorgeous laugh, that disarming laugh that almost persuaded me that seeing him again would be a good idea. Dad is like that, he’s sincere, appeals to something inside me that makes it impossible to say no. And before I know it, I’ve agreed to God knows what – like cleaning the hamster cage out. Which is fine when you’re ten years old and it’s something innocent, not so fine when you’re all grown up and it’s a whole lot more damaging than rodent droppings and sawdust.
Dad gets under your skin. Just like Noah does. For heaven’s sake, he kept me awake at night thinking about him, and I’ve only met him once!
I can tell exactly what he is like and getting involved with a man like that would be disastrous. Before I knew it, I’d be caught in his web, believing everything he said, and losing every bit of independence I thought I had. Like Mum did.
‘Not everybody stays the same.’ Bea’s voice is soft as she squeezes my shoulder. ‘People do change.’
‘They don’t. The heart of them, the real them deep inside never changes and you can either decide to work with it or leave. Mum told me that.’ My lovely mother, who had decided that walking away wasn’t for her. I stop looking at crumbs and meet Bea’s eye. ‘I am never going to put myself through that. I am never going to date somebody like that. I can’t work with it!’ She blinks. I think I might have shouted the last sentence out, and I know Bea’s preparing to launch herself into a speech about love and risk and highs and lows, so I say something quick to stop her. ‘Anyway, we were both drunk, he probably didn’t mean it.’
‘Well ring him. You said you had his number.’
‘Did I?’
She laughs. ‘Last night you said he put it in your phone!’
‘Ahh.’
‘Ring him, find out if he was being serious.’
‘No.’ That would be almost as embarrassing as a first date.
No way am I going to call him.
‘It’s a ridiculous idea.’
‘Why? Give me one good reason. Wow, this sauce is the best.’ She licks her lips in orgasmic ecstasy and I have a brief twinge of disappointment that I might never do that again. Orgasm – not eat hollandaise sauce. It would be so nice to find the other half of me to share my life with, even though right now it looks like it’s going to be position vacant for some time.
It isn’t that I yearn for affection because I’ve had a rubbish childhood. I had a good, loving upbringing. Mum and Dad (when he was present) have always showered me with cuddles and encouragement, but at school I was always desperate to be like my friends. I wanted to spend school holidays at home and chill out with mates. I wanted to have Mum and Dad at ho
me every night for tea together. I wanted to wake up on Christmas morning in my own bed. But it wasn’t often like that.
I always felt like I lived on a wobble board – slightly unstable, never quite safe.
Dad plays in an orchestra. He’s a good, well great, musician so he travels all over the country, all over the world. And Mum has always gone with him whenever she can – which meant I went too until I was old enough to stay on my own.
If I’m honest, I’ve always felt a bit like a gooseberry, because when Mum and Dad are together, they are totally together if you get what I mean. They are mad about each other, but that wasn’t the full reason for tagging along. It’s when they’re apart that the problems start. Dad is a flirt, a total idiot who forgets what really matters in the heat of the moment. Mum was scared that if she wasn’t there to watch out for the warning signs, then one day he might not come back. I mean, how does that make any sense?
I’ve never actually been in full-blown, mad-for-you, can’t-live-without-you kind of love. And after growing up with that, I don’t want to be. It sucks.
With Robbie it was more we-get-on-well, share-a-sense-of-humour and we-slot-together-like-two-worn-wooden-spoons affectionate love. It worked for me. I was happy with that. More than. Because I’ve seen what full-on passion, letting the brakes off and bearing-your-soul-completely kind of love can do to somebody. I’ve watched a person I love having their heart used like a punching bag. I’ve joined them on the rollercoaster of will they, won’t they? I’ve watched the way they’ve carefully rebuilt the fragile shell of emotions, only to let the person they love shatter them into tiny pieces again, because they just can’t help it. They can’t step away. And I’ve kind of understood, because even though I’ve hated Dad, I’ve loved him, too. And like my mum, I could never quite give up on him, never stop thinking that maybe one day he’d change. That it could be different.
I couldn’t turn my back and walk away from my dad – so how could I expect Mum to?
So, I get it. But I’ve learned from it. I am never ever going to leave my heart open to that kind of hurt, to the destruction of love.
I mean, no high can ever be worth emotional lows that are so crashing they leave your body feeling as broken as your heart, can they? Nope.
So yeah, my parents’ relationship is a bit of a car crash, a bad addiction.
Which is why my childhood dream has always been to feel secure. To have a normal family life. To have a nice husband who I can trust with my heart, somebody steady, somebody who will always be there for me. Somebody who wants what I want. My other half.
I want a nice normal guy who offers a merry-go-round not a rollercoaster. A guy who offers me safety. I’m not bothered about having my heart beat so fast it is threatening to break out of my chest (sounds a bit icky anyway). I do not want infatuation like Mum had, or a daily dose of lust coming from an adrenaline rush that sends me sky high one moment and crashing to the floor with doubt and insecurity the next.
I do not want the risk of love that somebody like Noah would offer. I’d rather be bored.
Not somebody who reminds me of the best and the worst bits of Dad. Because the two go hand in hand. Noah has twinkly eyes and a captivating grin. Noah is the type of guy who wants excitement, for each day to bring something new. Noah is the type of guy who draws you in and makes you feel special. Noah is the type of guy who is compelling, the type of guy you dream about and can’t get out of your head. Which makes him dangerous, and everything I do not want.
Noah is sexy, but that’s the point, isn’t it? They always are. I know his type and I am not going to get involved. Not on any level. Definitely not.
I am done with that.
‘I can give you more than one reason why the whole idea is bonkers!’ Bea opens her mouth to speak, so I crash on before she can. ‘Firstly, I do not want to learn how to be some kind of scarlet woman who has swallowed a seduction technique manual, I want to be my normal self and just bump into somebody at random and it turn into a fabulous first date. It happens in the movies, quite a lot.’
‘Okay, fair point,’ she waves her fork, ‘though the movies are the movies to be fair. They’re not real life. Nobody ever had that holding cards up professing love shit, or the mad dash to stop you getting on a plane, or—’
‘Okay, okay, you can stop now!’
‘And the drippy one is never going to turn out to be hotter than the flirty, fun one who wants to live on the edge. Totally unrealistic. Who thinks this stuff up? Marriage guidance counsellors?’
‘Eat your eggs!’
‘I wouldn’t use your go-to romcoms as a guide. Just saying, so don’t pull a face on me! Carry on …’
‘Thanks! So, secondly it won’t work because it involves going out with him. Almost like a fake date. He might want to demonstrate stuff, you know, want to be hands on.’ Bea winks and raises an eyebrow. Now she would get on fine with Noah. She’d be able to handle him. But I wouldn’t.
I try and stop the sigh escaping. ‘What if learning seduction techniques involves fake kisses, or fake cuddles, or a fake romantic dinner for two? Where does fake end and real begin? At tongues? Hands on bums?’ I can practically see Noah leaning in for a kiss, feel the touch of his hands on my waist and it is making me hot and bothered. Oh gawd, I hope Bea hasn’t noticed!
‘I’d just chill and see where it takes you. You can always cop out when the going gets hot.’ She raises an eyebrow. ‘Or stay in!’
‘I knew you’d say something like that!’ It all sounds far too complicated and risky to me, and risky is what I am trying to avoid. ‘Anyway, it doesn’t matter what you say, I’ve made my mind up. I am not calling Noah. And,’ I hold up my hand to stop her interrupting, as this has brought me to my second decision, ‘I am deleting all the dating apps off my phone.’
Noah has made me realise that I’m probably not cut out for this kind of approach. I think it is for the experienced dater, who won’t get into a pickle or take being stood up, or expected to instantly drop her knickers, personally.
It has worked perfectly for Bea, with her dog-sitting.
It has not worked well for me so far though, and I think Noah might have had a point. You don’t actually know what you’re going to get. I’d kind of imagined that it would work a bit like an arranged marriage – but without the parental involvement, obviously. It doesn’t.
‘Noah was right. People lie, people have dodgy intentions, you order a nice steak and end up with horse. You are lulled into a false sense of security that you will get exactly what it says on the menu.’ I look Bea in the eye. ‘I acted on impulse.’ She raises an eyebrow. ‘Cos Dad texted me.’ The sigh escapes, before I can stop it. ‘He’s found out I’m single, that I’ve been single for ages.’
Bea puts her knife and fork down. ‘Oh Rosie, forget your dad. This is about what you want, it’s not about him; but you can’t give up. You’ll find somebody, you will.’
‘I’m not giving up, I know I’ll find somebody one day. I’ve just decided I need to be cool about it. I don’t need to rush just because Dad thinks I’m practically on the shelf.’
Bea nods encouragingly. ‘You are SO not on the shelf. If you are so am I, so are loads of people!!’
‘It’s just a case of being in the right place at the right time,’ she nods more, ‘so if I make sure I’m out in as many places as possible, then that is going to help.’ Dog walking is definitely an idea.
‘Definitely!’
‘I will find me a man.’ Somewhere, somehow, even an imaginary man if it shuts everybody up. ‘When I’m ready.’ I could hire a date. Or I could ring Noah. If I get really desperate.
No. I am not going to ring Noah. Noah is bad news. Noah will have already forgotten I even exist.
‘You’ve got a funny look on your face.’ Bea nudges me in the ribs. ‘Who are you thinking about?’
‘Nobody.’ She doesn’t look convinced, probably because I am glowing.
Bea shrugs. ‘Think about i
t. That’s all I’m saying, don’t just dismiss him, hun.’
‘I don’t need to think about it. Even if you are right and he’s not going to spend the rest of his life unable to grow up and resist everything in a skirt.’
She touches my hand gently. ‘That’s not fair, Rosie, your dad wasn’t that bad.’
‘Don’t.’ I blink away the prickle at the back of my eyes. I don’t want to talk about him, about a part of my childhood that I still can’t quite come to terms with.
‘Rosie, your dad—’
‘Whatever,’ I interrupt her, ‘but this Noah is not my type. He’s not serious for a start, I bet he never reads books!’
‘Not serious is good, fun! Don’t you get it?’ She puts a hand on my arm, and looks at me seriously, and caring. ‘Not everybody has to be the one, Rosie, or even the nearly one. You just need to get back in the swing of things. He can’t be unfaithful if he’s just teaching you how to have fun!’
‘I don’t need to be taught how to have fun. I have plenty of fun, thank you!’ I know I’m starting to sound huffy, a bit like a sullen child. But I do know how to have fun. My life might not be a bundle of laughs, but I like it.
‘I meant dating fun, Rosie, man fun. I know you know how to enjoy yourself. I’m sorry, I’m not having a dig, I just want to help.’
‘I know.’
‘He can help you lighten up about this whole first date thing, make it less of an issue. You never find love when you’re looking for it. It finds you when you least expect it. Believe me.’ She smiles. ‘I go out looking for men, but I just find wankers and bell-ends.’
‘You don’t!’ I laugh. Bea has always been able to lighten my mood.
‘Now and then, when I’m not chatting people up, when I’m looking the other way, some real gem comes along. I’m too stupid to realise and treat them differently, the way I should. I’m scared to, Rosie. But when that right guy creeps under your radar, you’ll realise and you’ll know just what to do because you’re so much smarter than me.’ She hugs me and I feel like I’m holding a Bea I’ve not seen before. Maybe none of us are as confident as we look. ‘It’ll happen for you, Rosie. But why not let this guy Noah help you get some first dates you actually enjoy?’
The First Date Page 5
