The kissing was great. Feeling her body was amazing … but as soon as I went south it didn’t feel right. I can’t explain it, but I didn’t enjoy it. I felt like a fumbling teenager who’d never been near a vagina and didn’t have a clue where anything was. Sounds odd now when I think about it: I have a vagina and an in-depth working knowledge of where all the good parts are, but with someone else’s right there in front of me, I didn’t have a clue. Oliver quickly rescued me and we kissed as he fucked her. Afterwards I threw on some clothes and sat in the living room while they got dressed. They came through shortly afterwards, thanking me for a lovely time and calling a cab to Oliver’s. And I was left, face in hands, cringing. Another challenge crossed off the list and the verdict? Completely terrifying and totally out of my comfort zone. I can understand why Oliver thought his previous threesome was a let-down; it felt contrived and my lack of experience with women made me feel like an idiot. So unless I get a Cunnilingus for Dummies handbook pretty soon, I can’t see myself rushing to do it again. I guess when there are three of you, someone is always going to feel like the odd one out. Tonight it was me. Perhaps it would be easier with two men?
Saturday April 16th
I woke up to the sound of the phone ringing and for a second thought it might be Oliver announcing he was returning with Simone for round two. Thankfully it was Paul, calling to invite an extremely exhausted me to a gathering at his house tonight. ‘It’s just a wee party for my birthday, nothing fancy, and also an excuse to show off my boyfriend Dan. He’s flown over from New York and I’m hoping he won’t fly back, so be nice!’
‘I’m always nice! It’s Lucy you should be warning!’
‘Oh, don’t worry, she’s been well warned. Well, threatened actually. Hazel can’t make it and Oliver is busy, but it should be fun! Anyway must dash – see you at eight?’
At six I grabbed something for dinner. In hindsight, garlic bread was not the best idea, but since Paul came out, the only men he introduces me to are gay (apart from one guy he calls ‘Bald John’), so kissing was definitely off the menu.
I arrived at Paul’s new flat, which is a typical bachelor pad in the city centre. Everything is modern, oversized and very spare apart from the huge Salvador Dali print on one wall. Over the noise of the chatter, I could just make out Madonna’s ‘Immaculate Collection’ coming from the iPod dock. Good choice.
I kissed Paul on the cheek, very conscious of my garlic breath, but hopeful that booze would mask it and make it possible for me to have a conversation with someone from less than ten feet away.
Lucy was already there, carrying round a plate of oddly shaped nibbles. ‘I made spinach balls. They went a bit wrong.’ I nodded in agreement and made my way back over to Paul to avoid having to sample them.
‘I should have got some more chairs. I hate it when people lean against the wall.’
‘Who are all these people? I hardly know anyone!’
‘They’re mainly work colleagues and partners. I didn’t expect everyone to show up! I might need to get more booze.’
‘Well, where is he then? Where’s the new fella? I want to meet him!’
‘See that guy over by the window talking to that young lad? That’s him.’
And there, standing beside Paul’s new boyfriend, was Richard. I turned around quickly and hissed, ‘What the hell is he doing here?’
‘What? Dan’s the reason I’m having this party! What do you think? Hot, eh? His ass is—’
‘No. Richard. The one he’s talking to. The boy – Richard. I’ve slept with him. I’ve been ignoring him! This will be entirely awkward.’
I felt a tray of misshapen spinach balls being thrust in between Paul and me.
‘Sorry, Phoebe, Sam brought him, but they’re heading off soon. Just smile and he’ll vanish shortly.’
But he didn’t vanish shortly. He didn’t even vanish when Sam left. He stayed completely visible and followed me around all evening, telling me how he couldn’t stop thinking about me and how I wasn’t like any other women he knew. Where the fuck did all this come from?
‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ I asked abruptly after he’d almost followed me into the bathroom.
‘I can’t stop thinking about you,’ he gushed. ‘The way your body felt and how you smelled and I keep replaying it over and over and—’
‘Look, Richard, I’m not interested,’ I snapped. ‘You’re a lovely guy, but you’re far too young for me. We had some fun. Let’s just leave things the way they are, OK?’
‘BUT I WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!’ he yelled. Christ, he was having a tantrum! I thought he might turn into Rumpelstiltskin and demand my firstborn.
Lucy finally convinced him to go home and I spent the rest of the evening feeling like shit. I had completely, but unintentionally, led this guy on. I’d assumed that because I hadn’t given him a second thought, he’d done the same.
I feel like a complete prick.
Sunday April 17th
Lucy called off our lunch date to meet up with Sam, so rather than leave the house I chose to spend the afternoon in bed, drifting in and out of consciousness and playing with my toys. I started to get carried away and then just like that: it happened! I felt like I was going to pee so I kept going, I thrust harder and I came. Loudly and probably shouting, ‘I AM SPARTA!’ due to the fact I was fantasizing about Gerard Butler (I hope to God I didn’t). It was astounding. My vibrator looked like it had been run under a tap and the wet patch was mighty impressive. I SQUIRTED! Oh, hooray for me, I’m almost a porn star! Well, apart from the fact that my family still speak to me and I’ll never bleach my anus. I also felt like I’d been punched in the face with a narcolepsy fist, and fell asleep in record time afterwards: right in the wet patch. Masturbation challenge complete and quite frankly I deserve a medal – I worked hard at this one.
I made the mistake of texting Oliver when I woke up and it took him precisely seventeen minutes to arrive at my flat. I didn’t even have time to get dressed before he threw me back down on the bed, romancing me with the words, ‘Let’s get a look at this then.’
Despite leaving me with an extremely sore pubic bone after his first attempt, he’s now managed to get it down to a fine art. I can see him looking at the sheets afterwards thinking ‘I did that’.
He left around midnight, grinning to himself. I threw the bed sheets into the washing machine and fell asleep on the couch. Fuck, it makes a right mess.
Wednesday April 20th
I woke up at seven this morning to eight missed calls and a text message, all from Richard:
U R a cold hearted bitch, dont eva contact me again
Eva? Grr. And THEN, halfway through my working day, an email pops up from Alex. Fucking ALEX. I actually held my breath as I read it, because as everyone knows, holding your breath acts as some sort of force field to deflect emotionally damaging emails.
From: Alex Anderson
To: Phoebe Henderson
Subject: Hi
Phoebe,
Been thinking about you since we met the other day. I feel bad about the way things went and also about the way things ended with us. Can we meet for coffee or something? Or I’ll take you for sushi?
A x
A kiss and everything. What the hell is going on? I haven’t replied yet. I don’t think my work email swearing filter could cope.
Thursday April 21st
Lucy and Sam have broken up because he thinks I’m a dick and she doesn’t. Well, that’s the way she explained it anyway. For some reason Richard seems to think we had something really special and he’s been telling everyone how I dumped him and how he’s never going to feel the same about anyone ever again. EVA, EVA, EVA. I certainly know how to pick ‘em. I must remember to physically remove the heart of my next shag.
Frank has his date tomorrow night with the checkout girl, Vanessa. He’s taking her to some pretentious seafood restaurant near the Clyde where they serve flaming seahorse or something. We went over things at
lunchtime to prepare him.
‘OK, Frank, let’s run over some possible scenarios. If she compliments something you’re wearing …’
‘Thank her and don’t mention how much it cost.’
‘Correct. Do not compliment her immediately after, as this will look insincere. Next, if your waitress looks like Cameron Diaz, you will …’
‘Become aroused. Oh, stop scowling, I’m kidding. I will not leer at her or pay her more attention than Vanessa.’
‘Good. This also includes when Vanessa goes to the toilet. Don’t use that an excuse to smarm all over the hot waitress. Have some respect.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Yes, wear something blue. You suit blue.’
‘Oh. Do I?’ He began to blush a little. ‘I was expecting you to say something mean there. Blue, huh? Noted.’
Friday April 22nd
It’s the Easter weekend so no work until Tuesday, which couldn’t have come at a better time, as my period has arrived and I’m insanely hormonal. I want to laugh, cry and start a fight all at the same time, but most of all I just want to have sex. Oh, how I want to have sex. Oliver says he doesn’t mind that I have my period, but this time I do. I feel about as sexy as a potato. Also, a huge spot has appeared on my face, so between that and my menses misery I’m staying put in my flat. Frank’s date is tonight. I wonder if he’ll fuck it up? Bet he does. Bet he forgets everything I’ve said and just goes on about how much he sold his soul to Satan for. Why am I thinking about Frank when I’m not even in the office? Behave.
Tuesday April 26th
I cornered Frank after the morning meeting, desperate to find out how his date went. Purely so I could tell him where he went wrong, of course.
‘I think it went all right,’ he said sheepishly. ‘Dinner was great and I was the perfect gentleman.’
‘Did you perv over the waiting staff?’
‘No, I didn’t find our waiter Sean attractive.’
‘Ha. OK then, so what’s next?’
‘Well, Vanessa’s agreed to see me again so that’s a good sign. Oh, and she’s not just a checkout girl, she actually owns the business but isn’t afraid to muck in. Not that it matters, of course.’
‘So why the long face?’ I asked, perching on his desk. ‘No goodnight kiss?’
‘We did kiss goodnight. It was nice.’
‘So?’
He stared at the wall silently for a moment. ‘How long has that painting been upside down?’
‘I hadn’t noticed,’ I lied. ‘Answer the question.’
‘It’s delicate. Let’s just say I haven’t been with anyone in a while. I’m nervous, and if you laugh I’ll kill you.’
‘Ha ha … Oh. Right. I don’t think I like where this is going. You want actual sex tips? No chance.’
‘Oh, come on, Phoebe! Just give me a few pointers – that’s all. After overhearing your phone call, I’m sure I could learn a lot.’
‘Don’t push it, Frank. I’m already feeling compromised by this.’ He looked so pitiful that I finally relented. ‘OK, I’ll see what I can do, but after this you’re on your own.’
‘Deal.’
Christ, I’m the one who’s supposed to be on a voyage of sexual discovery, not him.
Wednesday April 27th
‘You seem to be seeing an awful lot of Frank these days,’ Oliver remarked when I went over to his place this evening.
‘This is the last time. I made him promise.’
‘Good, I don’t like sharing you.’
The minute those words came out of his mouth I could see him start to panic. ‘I mean, do what you like, I’m just being selfish. We’re both free agents.’
‘Ha, you secretly love me and this is driving you insane with jealousy,’ I laughed.
Oliver laughed too but not very convincingly. I hope he’s not getting fed up with me already.
Thursday April 28th
‘Is it just me or is Frank being more, well, normal these days?’ asked Lucy, who’d decided to come and sit on my desk and chat while I was trying to work. ‘He actually thanked me for something this morning. That never happens.’
I shrugged and kept my mouth shut.
‘Sounds vile, but I really fancy him sometimes. When he’s not being a dickhead. I had a dream where he—’
‘I don’t want to hear it! It’s going to be like that dream where you shagged Christian Bale in my house and made him shout at you like that viral off YouTube. Shit like that stays in my head.’
Lucy giggled. ‘GOOD FOR YOU! Fucking love him. Actually, that’s who else Frank reminds me of. Shouty Bale. Big ride that he is.’
‘Ha! Stop distracting me, I need to get these orders finished.’
She hopped off my desk and wandered back to her own, whistling the Batman theme tune as she went. I have no idea how I’m going to approach this sex stuff with Frank. What I do know is that Lucy can never know. She’d put me into a cannon and launch me into space.
Friday April 29th
The whole country was given the day off today to celebrate the wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton. I assumed that, like me, no one actually gave a shit and would use the day off to sleep, but both Lucy and Hazel turned up at eleven that morning, armed with cava and canapés. Lucy was wearing a tiara. I wasn’t even dressed.
‘We’re watching the wedding here,’ said Lucy, thrusting the booze into my hand. ‘You have the good telly.’
‘Seriously?’ I asked, as they rushed past me into the living room. ‘You’re into this shit?’
‘Hell yes!’ exclaimed Hazel, turning on BBC One. ‘Actual princes and princesses? You bet I am.’
‘I just want to see what everyone’s wearing,’ said Lucy, plonking herself down on the couch. ‘It’ll be all massive, stupid hats and tummy-control pants under dull designer dresses. Someone always looks a fright – I’m here for that show.’
‘Well, make yourselves at home,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘I’m off to shower and tidy up until you both leave and let me get back to bed.’
I busied myself with cleaning the flat, occasionally glancing at the screen when Lucy shrieked with laughter at someone’s hat, but not really paying much attention. My attitude lasted until the actual wedding began, when I couldn’t resist any longer. Giving in, I plonked myself between Lucy and Hazel, mesmerized by the sheer grandeur of the event. By the time they kissed on the balcony, I was on my third glass of cava, sobbing into a hanky. ‘She’s a real-life princess now!’ I sniffed. ‘I want to be a princess.’
‘You’ve certainly changed your tune,’ laughed Hazel. ‘She did look beautiful though. Must be odd being on display like that.’
‘I know!’ agreed Lucy. ‘Imagine that was your life. One minute you’re getting pissed in the university bar, the next you’re engaged to a prince and getting married in front of the entire world. If she so much as pulls her thong out of her backside in public, it’ll be front-page news. I’d hate that.’
I took Lucy’s tiara off her head and placed it on mine. ‘I hate being shown what I’ll never be. It’s depressing. I saw a video on YouTube of that lion hugging the man who’d rescued her and I thought, I’ll never even be a lion rescuer. I don’t like the thought that my life will always be this unremarkable.’
Lucy bit into her canapé and nodded. ‘I know what you mean. I remember when Obama got sworn in and I was like, “I’ll never be the first black President of the United States!”’
‘Fuck you,’ I laughed. ‘I’m serious!’
Hazel finally stopped laughing and said, ‘You’ve created a list which most women only fantasize about and you’re actually doing it. You might not be a princess but you’re an inspiration.’
I raised my glass. ‘YEAH, I AM. Here’s to shagging my way to a more significant life!’
Around nine Lucy and Hazel finally went home and I fell into bed, still wearing Lucy’s tiara.
MAY
Sunday May 1st
11 a.m. I’m s
till considering the possibility of meeting up with Alex. Maybe it would help me get past all this. The list has shown me that I’m more than capable of change, of taking my destiny into my own hands and calling the shots. Perhaps this would be a good test of how far I’ve come. And he’s offering sushi.
No. That’s ridiculous, I’ll buy my own sushi and he can go to hell! No amount of maki is worth this much hassle. I half wonder if he still has feelings for me, but the more realistic part of me thinks he’s just playing his usual games. Whatever his motives, it seems things can’t be going as well for him as I’d imagined. Maybe he’s not randomly high-fiving strangers on the street before rushing home to have a laugh with HER at how blissful life is without me in it. Then telling her everything he felt he couldn’t share with me because he never loved me the way he loves her. I bet she doesn’t know he’s emailing me. He’s keeping her in the dark about this, and I have to admit, I’m finding it rather intriguing.
9 p.m. After giving the matter a lot more thought today in bed, I have decided that I am NOT going to meet Alex, that’s a definite. I think … Yes, it is. Despite my fantasy of me sitting there looking hot and him begging for forgiveness, I realize it would be nothing like that. It would inevitably turn into another slanging match, which I can do without. He’d just talk over the top of me in one continuous drone and I’d give up being sensible, or even reasonable, and start swearing. The best thing to do is ignore him. Pam Potter thinks I have a problem staying in control around him. She thinks he manipulated me so badly that I have trouble remembering who I am when he’s there. She also thinks she’ll one day persuade me to stand in front of her tapping my own head while telling myself I’m a great person and that isn’t happening. I’m just tired of feeling angry when I see him, so the obvious solution is not to see him. I’d happily tap his bloody head though.
Monday May 2nd
I thought a little Bank Holiday boning might be nice so I tried to persuade Oliver to come round after he’d finished his football game this evening. I wanted to breathe in his man smell while squeezing his thighs, but instead he went out with that Simone girl again. Selfish. He called me on his way there.
The List Page 11
