The Accidental Proposal

by Dunn, Matt

  ‘Relax. It’s supposed to be bad luck, I think. So I told her you could stay round at mine. But no funny business,’ he adds, wagging a finger at me.

  ‘I think I’ll manage to control myself.’ I take a mouthful of beer. ‘So where are we going? On the stag, I mean.’

  Dan taps the side of his nose. ‘That’s on a need-to-know basis, sunshine.’

  ‘Yes. And I need to know.’

  ‘No way.’

  ‘Why not?’ I ask, suspiciously.

  ‘Because I want it to be a surprise.’

  ‘You’d better at least tell Sam, because she’s having her hen night the same evening.’

  ‘Good point,’ says Dan. ‘Don’t want to run into her accidentally, and have her spoil the party.’

  ‘Er, what party will she be spoiling, exactly?’

  ‘Oh, nothing,’ he says, as innocently as he can muster. ‘I’ve just got a surprise or two up my sleeve.’

  ‘Not like the last time I stayed round at yours and you “surprised” me by replacing my shower gel with that hair-removal cream?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Dan laughs at the memory. ‘I mean, no.’

  ‘Dan, I’ve told you, I don’t want anything to spoil this wedding. And that includes any practical jokes you might have planned for me on the stag do. I don’t want to look ridiculous in the wedding photos.’

  Dan stares at me for a second or two, then rips a whole page out of his notepad and crumples it up. ‘Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen that you don’t want to,’ he says, enigmatically. ‘Besides, like you said, there’s a week between the stag do and the wedding anyway.’

  ‘What’s that got to do with it?’

  ‘That’s just enough time for your eyebrows to grow back,’ he snorts, ‘for example.’

  ‘Dan!’

  He sighs. ‘I can’t believe you don’t want to spend one of your last nights of freedom looking at naked women. Especially considering you’re only ever going to be seeing the one naked woman for the next fifty years. And trust me, you’ll only want to see her naked for the first half of that.’

  ‘Would you mind not talking about my fiancée like that?’

  Dan grins. ‘Sorry, mate. But fifty years. With the same woman?’

  ‘Why do you look at it as a negative thing? As far as I’m concerned, it’s time spent with someone I want to be with.’

  He picks his beer up, then puts it back down again. ‘I’m sorry, Ed. You’re right. I guess I’m just a bit jealous, that’s all.’

  ‘Jealous?’ I’m a little taken aback. It’s not like Dan to admit anything like this. And certainly not where I’m concerned. ‘Of me?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He picks up his bottle again, and pretends to read the label. ‘You know. I just wish my expectations were as low as yours.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Where relationships are concerned. And I don’t mean that there’s anything wrong with Sam. Quite the opposite. It’s just that I always want that new feeling. The excitement of finding out what someone’s like.’

  I don’t like to point out that once Dan’s done that, he usually doesn’t like what he sees. ‘Maybe your expectations are too high. I mean, what’s the longest relationship you’ve had since all that internet stuff happened?’ Dan went through a bit of a dry patch last year. Not through choice, but because his ex-girlfriends started writing reviews about him on a website called Slate Your Date. Suffice to say, the reviews weren’t exactly making women want to queue up to go out with him.

  ‘I haven’t really had any that you’d describe as long, to be honest. I mean, I learnt from that experience. Really I did. And I’ve been upfront with them all, saying it’s not going to be anything serious, that I’m just looking for a fling. But while they say they’re okay with that . . .’ He sighs. ‘I tell you, I used to think I understood women, but not any more. Plus, I’m beginning to worry that they don’t understand me, no matter how much I spell things out to them.’

  ‘So, are you going to take anyone to the wedding?’

  He scratches his head. ‘I hadn’t really thought about it. To be honest, I kind of assumed that I might be taking someone from the wedding. Maybe even at the wedding.’

  ‘Why don’t you go with one of your “showbiz pals”?’ I say, making the speech-marks sign with my fingers.

  ‘Chance would be a fine thing, seeing as none of them are speaking to me since I got sacked. Besides, most of them are as’ – Dan makes the speech-marks sign himself – ‘“bad” as me. It fucks you up, this life, if you’re not careful: people telling you you’re great all the time, even when you’re not. Maybe that’s why I should get married. Then I’d have someone at home telling me how rotten I was all the time. You know, to balance it out a bit.’

  ‘Thanks Dan. You paint such a rosy picture of marriage. I can’t wait for the twenty-fifth now.’

  He frowns. ‘The twenty-fifth?’

  ‘That’s the wedding date.’

  ‘Ah. Oh yes. Of course.’ Dan picks up his pen and makes another entry in his notepad, underlining the numbers ‘two’ and ‘five’ three times. ‘I’m sorry, Ed. I didn’t really mean that you had low expectations. I just meant that marriage is fine for people like you.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Why do you insist on taking everything I say the wrong way?’

  ‘Why do you insist on phrasing everything like an insult?’

  ‘I’m trying to pay you a compliment,’ he says exasperatedly. ‘This isn’t easy for me.’

  ‘What – talking about this kind of thing?’

  ‘No. Paying you a compliment. I just meant I wish I was more like you. More . . . tolerant. Able to accept people for who they are, rather than what I expect them to be.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘You always seem to be able to see the good in people – however bad they are. I mean, look how long you went out with Jane for.’

  ‘Very funny.’

  ‘Whereas I just see their faults. All of them.’

  ‘Ah.’

  I don’t quite know what to say. Every now and again, Dan drifts into one of his ‘What’s it all about?’ phases, and I can already see the warning signs. Normally I get him out of them by reminding him it’s about the money, fame, flash car, great flat and, of course, the women, but, given his current employment situation and the state of his love life, I’ve got a feeling that might not work this time.

  As I wonder whether I should try to change the subject, Dan stares intently down the neck of his beer bottle. ‘I mean, don’t take this the wrong way,’ he continues, ‘but if you can find someone to marry then why can’t I?’

  I’m not sure there’s a right way to take that, but I let it pass. ‘I’m sure the right person’s out there for you somewhere. You’ve just got to give it a bit of time.’

  ‘Yeah, but I’ve been out with hundreds of girls. Thousands.’ He brightens for a second at the realization, then sighs miserably.

  ‘It’s not a numbers game.’

  ‘It isn’t?’

  ‘No. It’s all about what you’re looking for. When Jane dumped me, I was devastated. Not, in retrospect, just because I was losing her, but because I love being with someone, or rather, love being in love with someone. And that’s why I’m determined to nail Sam . . .’

  ‘Hur hur.’

  ‘You know what I mean. I love Sam. But I also realize she’s about as good as I’m going to get – and I don’t mean that in a bad way. I just know it’s very unlikely I’ll ever meet someone better, more compatible, who I could care about more. And therefore I’m not prepared to let her get away. Besides, I’m ready, you know, and that’s what it’s all about, because the fact is, sometimes it’s all about motivation.’

  ‘Motivation?’

  ‘You told me, when I was trying to win Jane back, to think about what I wanted – what the long-term goal was, if you like – and focus on that from day one. So when I first asked Sam out, I kn
ew I was after something serious: a long-term relationship. Because that’s how I’ve always gone into all my relationships – hoping, wanting, expecting them to go the distance.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And then luckily, thankfully, we fell in love, and that was the best feeling in the world. Whereas you don’t give yourself the chance of that ever happening. You just want to get them into bed, and then keep getting them into bed until you get bored. And all the while, you think you’re doing them a favour.’

  Dan nods in agreement, then stops when he sees my expression. ‘Yeah, maybe,’ he says, noncommittally. ‘But, you know the biggest problem I have?’

  I want to say ‘your ego’, but that’s probably not a good idea. ‘No. What?’

  ‘The fact that all the women I meet are attracted to me for who I am, then try and change who I am to fit in with their idea of what a boyfriend should be. And that’s just not fair. Because what attracted them to me in the first place then becomes what eventually drives us apart.’

  ‘Maybe you need to change your approach?’

  Dan looks hopefully up at me. ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Start looking at women differently.’

  He picks up my empty pint glass, holds it like a telescope, and squints through the bottom of it. ‘What – like this?’

  ‘No, Dan, I’m serious. Whenever you meet someone, think first and foremost whether you could actually have a relationship with her, rather than just relations.’

  Dan looks at me as if I’ve just asked him to learn Chinese. ‘I don’t know, Ed. I mean, it’s not really me, is it?’

  ‘How do you know until you’ve given it a try?’

  He takes a mouthful of beer, savouring it thoughtfully before swallowing it. ‘You know, that does occur to me with all of them – whether there could be something more, you know, long term.’

  ‘And what happens?’

  He gives a tight-lipped smile. ‘I don’t know. I guess they just expect me to be TV’s Dan Davis when we’re out, then mister obedient and normal when it’s just the two of us, and to be able to switch between the two of them to order. And I know I can’t. So I dump them before they find out.’

  ‘They don’t, Dan. They just expect you to be a normal human being who happens to look like Dan Davis. And surely even you can manage that?’

  Dan checks his reflection in the mirror behind the bar. ‘I guess. But the problem is, I’m just not good at being a “boyfriend”. He makes the speech-marks sign again, but unfortunately, he’s still got the bottle of beer in his hand, and ends up spilling some lager onto my trousers. ‘And this celebrity thing? I tell you, it’s a two-edged sword because it’s hard to meet someone who can get past that.’

  ‘Well, maybe you need to go back to your past to someone who knew you before all this.’

  Dan scowls at me. ‘Don’t start all that again, Ed. I’m done with Polly and she’s done with me.’

  ‘You’re sure about that, are you?’

  He shrugs. ‘Even if I wasn’t, there’s nothing I can do about it. She’s with someone else now. And I’m hardly likely to split them up just to see whether she and I have a chance again.’

  ‘That’s rather unlike you.’

  ‘Yes, well, I’ve changed, haven’t I? Plus I care about her. And I want her to be happy.’

  ‘You see? There you go.’

  Dan looks over his shoulder. ‘Where?’

  ‘You’ve admitted you care about someone. Other than yourself, that is. And if you’ve done that once, you can do it again.’

  ‘Assuming I meet someone like her again. Besides, I’ve almost forgotten what she’s like.’

  ‘You might be able to remind yourself in a couple of weeks.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Because I’ve invited her to the wedding.’

  Dan almost drops his beer in shock. ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve invited her.’

  ‘And she’s coming?’

  I shrug. ‘I dunno. She hasn’t RSVP’d yet.’

  Normally that would be Dan’s cue to snigger at the ‘arse’ part of ‘RSVP’, but instead, he just turns to look at me. ‘With what’s his face?’ he asks, nervously.

  ‘Well, I had to put plus one on the invitation.’

  ‘Great,’ says Dan, sounding as though he means the exact opposite.

  ‘It is great. At least you get to see her again. As a friend. And she’ll see you, and maybe realize what she’s been missing . . .’

  ‘Yeah, right. With her boyfriend there.’

  ‘Assuming she brings him. And look on the bright side. If she does, you’ll be able to tell if she’s happy or not.’

  ‘Yeah. That’s true.’ He takes another mouthful of lager. ‘Er, how?’

  ‘It’s obvious.’

  ‘Can you make it a little more obvious?’

  ‘Look at me and Sam. We’re happy. Remember what Jane and I looked like? We weren’t.’

  ‘Not that you knew it at the time. Otherwise her dumping you wouldn’t have come as such a shock.’

  I glare at him. ‘Do you have to remind me of that every time?’

  Dan nods. ‘Just don’t want you getting complacent.’

  ‘But you could tell, right?’

  Dan nods. ‘Oh yeah. Although to be honest, I kind of thought it was just the way you guys were after ten years together.’

  ‘That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. That’s not how it should be. Although unfortunately, unless you’ve been there and recognized it, you won’t be able to tell if it’s happening to you. I have. And that’s why I’ll never let it get like that between me and Sam.’

  ‘Yes, well, good luck with that,’ says Dan, miserably. ‘But that doesn’t exactly help me, does it?’

  ‘Yes it does.’ I think for an example Dan can relate to. ‘Remember when you first got the Porsche, and you drove over that spiked parking thing the wrong way and punctured all your tyres?’

  ‘How could I forget?’ says Dan, wincing at the memory. ‘It cost me eight hundred quid.’

  ‘But you didn’t drive over one of those things again, did you? Because you were able to spot them beforehand.’

  ‘Too right.’

  ‘And that’s my point. Surely if anyone knows what a short-term relationship looks like, it’s you. And that’s why you’ve got to avoid them from now on. Only go out with women who you think might be goers.’

  ‘Hur hur.’

  ‘No, I mean, in it for the long term.’

  ‘But I don’t know what they look like,’ wails Dan.

  ‘But you do know what they don’t look like. And surely that’s a good start.’

  Dan holds his hands up. ‘Okay, okay. I promise. No more floozies. Except on your stag night, of course.’

  ‘Dan, for the millionth time. No strippers.’

  He re-caps his pen, and slips his notepad into his pocket. ‘I’m sorry, Ed, but if you keep on like this, even I won’t want to come to your stag night, and I’m the bloody best man – and the only other guest. A stag night without breasts’ – he nods towards my chest – ‘and I don’t mean your man-boobs – is like, I don’t know, an episode of Close Encounters without me in it – pointless. You can still look, don’t forget, so why spoil the fun for the rest of us? Even though the rest of us is only, well . . . me.’

  I stare at him for a few seconds, then shake my head resignedly. ‘Okay, then. But just the one.’

  ‘Er, two is usually preferable.’

  ‘Strippers, not breasts. And you promise not to let anything happen? To me, that is.’

  ‘Scouts honour,’ says Dan, making a weird shape with his fingers, then saluting smartly.

  Unfortunately, it’s only much later that I remember Dan wasn’t, in fact, in the scouts.

  Tuesday, 14 April

  12.56 p.m.

  Not a lot happens for the next couple of days. Apart from having to wait for the RSVPs to come in, confirm our Lake Como honeymoon, and find out th
at Dan hasn’t done anything about the entertainment for the reception so panic-book something myself, there’s actually not that much for me to do. Despite my offer to help, Sam’s told me to leave the ‘boring wedding stuff’ to her, and while I assume she means that the stuff’s boring, I’m still a little worried that the wedding might be.

  To be honest, for something that’s supposed to be not such a big deal, she seems to be spending a lot of time organizing it, and while I can’t of course be resentful of this, it means we’re not seeing as much of each other as I’d like at the moment. Then again, I’m getting her for the rest of her life, so I suppose I shouldn’t complain.

  I’ve decided I’d better come clean about seeing Jane the other day, and possibly about inviting her to the wedding, though, of course, I need to pick my moment. And while I’m aware that the moment probably isn’t when Sam spots her at the registry office, I’ve been unable to think of a better one. To that end, I’ve gone for a walk along the seafront to try and work out how best to broach it, although I’ve taken a diversion via Kemp Town to pick myself up a little something from Muffin To Declare – something I feel is justified given the healthy rocket salad I’ve just eaten for lunch – when I catch sight of Sam, walking in the opposite direction on the other side of the road.

  My first thought, or rather my second, as my first is to swallow quickly the mouthful of muffin I’ve been chewing and get rid of the rest of the evidence, is that I’ve been rumbled, but luckily she hasn’t seen me. I fall into step behind a tall, impeccably dressed man and, using him as cover, drop the bag containing the rest of the muffin in the nearest bin, and I’m just about to cross over the road and say hello to her when the man I’ve been shadowing does exactly that.

  I jump back onto the pavement, then – as he walks over to where Sam’s waiting outside a coffee shop – duck into the nearest doorway, watching as he leans down and kisses her on the cheek, before opening the door for her. I’m just about to follow, but as Sam looks up and down the pavement before walking into the café, I hesitate. I don’t feel I can go over and interrupt them, in case he’s a new client – Sam often meets new clients at lunchtime – but as far as I’m aware, unless she’s decided to adopt the same marketing strategy as Natasha, Sam doesn’t greet her new clients with a kiss. In any case, it seems rather inappropriate to meet someone who’s potentially interested in losing weight in a place with a huge sign in the window advertising their hand-made speciality cakes and, as I think about it, there’s something about the way Sam checked that the coast was clear before going inside that’s making me feel a little uncomfortable.