Unforgettable Embrace

by Clancy, Joanne

  “Course you can,” Liz encouraged, “it's not a marriage proposal, just a date, an opportunity to get to know someone better. Maybe it will lead to further dates, maybe not, but it's good fun and good practice along the way to meeting Mr. Right. Who knows, you might even make some new friends.”

  “It's all a learning experience,” Jen chimed in, “enjoy yourself and have fun.”

  “But not too much fun, especially on a first date,” Liz grinned mischievously, making Rachel blush again.

  Chapter 8

  “Good morning, may I speak with Rachel please?” a very posh male voice greeted Rachel down the phone.

  It was a week after The Boardwalk Blind Date Bonanza.

  “Yes, this is Rachel speaking,” she responded, wondering which bill she'd forgotten to pay this time.

  It wasn't that she purposely avoided paying her bills; it was just that she invariably forgot. She kept meaning to set up standing orders and direct debits for the electricity, refuse collection and credit card payments, but all the paperwork and internet passwords seemed very tedious to her. Tony had always taken care of the utility bills and it was a new chore to which she was yet to become accustomed. They always send a letter to remind me when a bill is overdue anyway, she thought, and I always pay it then.

  “This is Brian O' Dowd,” the posh male voice continued on the line.

  “Oh, yes?” Rachel replied, still wondering who was speaking while she carried on typing on her computer.

  “We met at The Boardwalk Café last Thursday evening, at the Blind Date Bonanza, to be precise,” there was a hint of impatience in Brian's voice now.

  “Of course, Brian!” Rachel exclaimed.

  She frantically racked her brain, trying desperately to put a face to the voice and the name.

  “I thoroughly enjoyed our rather brief encounter that evening and I was wondering if you might like to meet for dinner on Saturday night?” Brian asked.

  “Hmm, yes, that would be lovely,” Rachel responded, still wondering what Brian looked like.

  Most of the evening at The Boardwalk Café had been a blur of new faces and nervousness for Rachel. She wasn't used to having to make a good first impression on so many people in such a short period of time. She remembered meeting several interesting men at the Blind Date Bonanza and she fervently hoped Brian was one of them. However, there were also a few men who she didn't find remotely interesting or attractive and she fervently hoped that Brian wasn't one of them.

  “Excellent,” Brian sounded pleased with her acceptance to his dinner invitation, “I'll make dinner reservations for eight o' clock at The Vicary restaurant. Shall I pick you up at your house or would you prefer to meet at The Vicary?”

  “Let's meet at the bar around half seven,” Rachel said, thinking she didn't particularly want him knowing where she lived at this early stage.

  “See you then, Rachel, I'm looking forward to it already,” and with that Brian rang off.

  Rachel sat looking at her mobile phone for a few minutes, wondering how on earth she would recognise Brian on Saturday night. She'd been too embarrassed to admit to him that she couldn't quite remember him. She saved his number on her mobile and started to panic a little. What would she wear? What would they talk about? What if they didn't like each other? She suddenly and overwhelmingly wanted to text him to cancel their date.

  Instead, she decided to text Jen and Liz to let them know she had a date for Saturday night and that she was already considering cancelling.

  Jen texted back in no uncertain terms that she should stop being a wimp and start worrying about more important issues; like what to wear.

  Liz was less harsh in her text and said that she and Jen would go with her incognito and watch the date from a corner of the bar, if she really felt that worried, which was of some small comfort to Rachel.

  ****

  “There is something just so wonderfully decadent about red wine?” Brian said as he theatrically swirled the dark burgundy liquid in the crystal glass.

  “Yes, indeed there is,” Rachel agreed, taking a rather large gulp of wine from her glass.

  She had already decided that she most certainly did not like Brian; romantically or platonically. The performance he had made of tasting and sniffing and gurgling the wine had absolutely mortified her. He'd sent back the first bottle of wine, saying it was too “corky”, and had spent what seemed like forever savouring the first sip of the second bottle.

  Then with a flourish of his hand, he'd said to the waiter “I suppose this will have to do.” “Of course this is nothing like the Opus One I had in California last year,” he'd said to her and had proceeded to ramble on about his rich friends.

  She realised early in the evening that Brian was what she would later describe to her friends as “a pompous ass.” She had purposely arrived ten minutes late to their date on Saturday evening as she hated waiting in bars on her own. She always felt that everyone was looking at her, thinking she'd been stood up or had no friends when she arrived early.

  She had contemplated arriving half an hour early to see if she could suss out who Brian was, but as Jen had pointed out, Brian clearly knew what Rachel looked like, so she couldn't really escape without him realising.

  So, she had walked rather tentatively into the bar at The Vicary to be greeted quite loudly by a tall, dark-haired man in a suit and tie.

  “Rachel, how lovely to see you again,” Brian had said, kissing her dramatically on both cheeks, and almost accidentally brushing lips on the second kiss before Rachel quite knew what was happening.

  “Oh, Brian, nice to see you too,” Rachel replied politely, quite taken aback by his boisterous greeting.

  It took a few minutes before she could gather herself together enough to get a proper look at him. He was tall, with dark hair, features which Rachel liked in a man. He was quite attractive in a Clarke Kent/ Superman way. He had glasses which framed hazel eyes and his dark hair was perfectly combed to a right side parting. He looked immaculately clean, which was another positive, but that's about where the positives ended and the negatives began.

  It turned out that Brian was a touch too obsessive about cleanliness, as they had barely taken their seats in the restaurant before he produced hand-sanitising spray from his pocket, and started spraying it profusely on his hands, before rubbing it in systematically all the way up to his wrists. “One can never be too careful, Rachel, my dear, germs everywhere,” he'd said, even offering her a few sprays, which she'd declined.

  The over-powering smell of the hand sanitiser started to make her feel nauseous. She seized the opportunity to excuse herself to the bathroom, where she found herself searching for exit points that lead out of the building and that would hide her departure from Brian.

  She carefully reapplied her lipstick in the mirror and slowly brushed her hair, trying to delay as long as possible before having to resume her tedious date with Mr. Pomposity in the restaurant. She decided it would be rather rude to do a runner on the date, and thought at least it would be good practice for any future dates she might have; not with Brian, of course. So she took a deep breath and rejoined her date in the restaurant. He stood up at her return and made a fuss of pulling out her chair. All part of his pretentious act, she thought.

  “Everything alright,” he asked with a hint of concern in his voice.

  “Never better,” she smiled through gritted teeth.

  “I thought you might have fallen down the toilet, you were gone so long,” he guffawed loudly at his own joke.

  “Hardly,” she muttered under her breath, “shall we order?”

  Let's get this fiasco over and done with as quickly as possible, she thought.

  Several courses later and Brian was waxing lyrical about his very high profile friend who was involved in a very serious legal case, but he couldn't possibly tell her the details. Brian himself was a solicitor but it was his life-long dream to be barrister one day. Rachel was bored almost to tears. Her face ached fr
om fake smiling and nodding all night.

  “Well, Brian, it's time I was going,” she interrupted his ramble, looking pointedly at her watch. She just couldn't take any more of his ranting and boastings.

  “Oh, but the night is young,” he insisted, “I know this very cosy wine bar with a late night licence. I'm sure you'd love it.”

  “I'm feeling quite tired, Brian, it's time I went home,” she started gathering her jacket and handbag together.

  “Let me give you a lift home,” he said.

  “No, honestly, Brian, I'll be fine,” she said curtly, “I'm a big girl, and I can look after myself.” “Fair enough,” he replied, “will I be seeing you again?”

  Rachel was taken aback by his directness, but thought it would be unfair to give him false hope.

  “Umm, no Brian, I don't think we are compatible,” was her answer.

  “Oh, but we had such a lovely evening,” he looked crestfallen.

  “I'm sorry, I've just come out of a serious relationship and don't want to get into anything yet,” she felt guilty at her previous outburst and the disappointment on his face.

  “I see, never mind,” Brian said, “thank you for your honesty.”

  He looked positively deflated, Rachel thought as she hurried out of the restaurant, leaving Brian to drown his sorrows in an aperitif. She fumbled about in her handbag and switched her mobile phone on. There were two texts, both from Liz, asking how her date was going. She sighed, not in the mood to analyse her disastrous date of the past few hours. She wanted to get home to the safe cosiness of her apartment. She couldn't wait to curl up on the couch in front of the fire.

  It didn't take long for Rachel to get home. She was happy to shut the front door and leave the world outside. A nice cup of hot, sweet tea, that's what I need, she thought as she kicked off her shoes, and padded over to fill the kettle with water. Tea, like a hug in a cup, her mother always said. Never a truer word spoken, Rachel said to herself.

  She suddenly missed her mother. She wished she was here right now with her, for a hug and a chat. She always felt safe with her mother; she was probably the only person who Rachel trusted implicitly, unquestionably. She loved her friends dearly but there was nobody like her mom. You're my own personal cheerleader, Rachel often joked with her mom, Angela.

  Rachel and her mom were not only mother and daughter, but also friends. Rachel's father had left when she was six years old. Rachel was the eldest of four children. There were only five years between Rachel and her youngest sister, Colette. Holly was next in age to Rachel and then there was Jo, the only boy. They had all been very close growing up, but had drifted apart somewhat in adulthood. Rachel's mom often said she would have loved to have had six children, and Rachel used to joke that four was more than enough. Rachel had been her mother's confidante throughout her teenage years, and from this they had become best friends.

  Rachel's mom was pleased that she and Tony had split. Over the years she would try to gently suggest that Rachel ought to experience new people and places and not limit herself too early in life. She liked Tony, but secretly never believed he was the one for her Rachel. She wanted Rachel to travel, date several people, enjoy life and have fun. There was plenty of time for settling down with one person later in life. Angela loved her children dearly but sometimes wondered what her life would have been like if she'd waited a few years before starting a family. She had spent her youth raising a family and immersed in all the responsibilities that entailed. She just didn't want that life at too young an age for her daughter.

  Chapter 9

  When did this whole recycling nonsense begin, anyway? Rachel thought in irritation as she rinsed a few food tins in the kitchen sink and slammed them on to the drainer to dry. I remember when all rubbish was just flung unceremoniously into one big bin and stuck outside once a week for collection. Now recycling is like some sort of an international obsession, Rachel thought; paper, plastic, drinking cans, food tins (heaven forbid you put a drinking can in with a food tin; both aluminium, what's the difference?), green glass, brown glass, clear glass.

  You could spend half your life sorting rubbish piles.

  It's all one big monopoly, her uncle used to say, the government gets paid for our recycling but we have to pay them for the pleasure of removing it.

  The government should be paying us. She kicked the bin in annoyance as she tossed the cans inside. She even threw a drinking can in with the food cans. This minor act of rebellion made her feel a little better.

  It was Saturday morning and Rachel was doing her weekly clean of the apartment. She had moved on from sorting the recycling to the mountain of dishes that had piled up in the kitchen sink over the past week. She had sold the dishwasher as she found it too expensive on electricity, so instead she washed the dishes by hand, en masse, once a week. The food that was ingrained on the dinner plates didn't help to improve Rachel's mood.

  She scrubbed the dishes until they were shining, thinking all the while of the week she had just experienced. Disastrous didn't even begin to describe it.

  Brian had called her several times, despite her honesty with him after their dinner date last weekend. He seemed to think he could take her honesty as an invitation to call her to vent about his frustrations with the dating scene and advice on what he could do to improve his first impressions on women.

  Rachel indulged him initially as she had felt sorry for him and a little guilty at how abrupt she'd been with him on their date. She was beginning to realise that his air of pomposity was just bravado to cover up how insecure he felt about women.

  However, he was trying to make his insecurity Rachel's problem, which was starting to get on her nerves. She'd stopped answering his calls, in the hopes he'd get the message and move on to someone else for advice, but it seemed he was a little slow on the uptake and still continued calling her on an almost daily basis.

  She had enough problems of her own in the relationship department, for goodness' sake. The last thing she wanted to do or felt remotely qualified to do was get involved in other people's love lives. The whole dating game was rather annoying to her. So much flirting and mind games were involved. If you were attracted to someone you just couldn't come straight out and ask them out on a date, oh no, they had to ask you. Such a load of rubbish, she thought, almost smashing a dinner plate as she bashed it into the sink.

  Why can't people just be straightforward? I like you, you like me, let's spend time together and see what happens. She resolved to go on a few more dates, if any were forthcoming, and then just give it up as a bad job after that. She was already getting bored with the whole scene; all that hope and expectation, only to be crushed on the first date. She enjoyed the part before the date a lot more than the actual date itself. It was fun making an extra effort with her appearance, getting dressed up and going out to dinner with someone who might just be the man of her dreams. So far, she hadn't gotten past the first date. In fairness, Brian was her only first date so far, which is why she promised herself to keep an open mind and go on a few more dates.

  She was quite proud of herself for going to The Boardwalk date night, and thought she might get a few more dates out of it, but instead of waiting around she decided to take a slightly more pro attractive approach and try internet dating. Several hours, and several broken plates later, Rachel found herself sitting at her computer, searching for love online. She decided to type “dating” into the search engine and was met with page after page of websites.

  There was gay and lesbian dating, interracial dating, even married dating websites and many more besides. She was amazed at the sheer choice on offer, and was happy in the realisation that she was far from being the only person looking for love. She didn't know which website link to click on so she closed her eyes and pointed her mouse randomly at the screen. She figured meeting your soul mate was up to fate anyway so she may as well leave the decision to fate and randomness.

  She opened her eyes to find the mouse hovering over th
e link to “Maybe Love.com”. She clicked on the link and mentally crossed her fingers and toes. Would the next page take her to the man of her dreams? Apparently not, as she looked at the website's home page with one eye open and the other closed, she found herself looking at several faces, male and female, in passport photo size. The site advised her that she was about to discover many new friends and perhaps even more, and “all” she had to do was fill out a questionnaire and their inbuilt matchmaking programme would match her with several potential dates.

  Of course, there was a fee involved, each fee increasing depending on the membership level, which comprised bronze, silver and gold, along the same lines as the Olympics with gold being the winner. She absent-mindedly thought that they could actually make dating an Olympic sport. It would be interesting to see what the criteria for the gold medal would be on that one.

  She decided to go with the bronze, thinking that she could always upgrade if necessary, but it wasn't always so easy to downgrade. Bronze allowed her to view other members' profiles and “poke” them if she was interested. Poking, hmm, sounds like a rather rude concept, she thought to herself as she read on further. It was then up to the “poked” member to respond to the “poker”. Apparently, bronze members were limited to just “poking” each other, silver members could “poke” and email each other, without providing telephone numbers. There was a very strict policy on not providing personal telephone numbers unless you were a gold member. If it happened once, you'd get a warning and a temporary suspension, if it happened again, your membership would be terminated.