Just Friends

by Holly McCulloch

  ‘Well, there are, and they should only be having one a day, but a lot of the kids in the test group are having to eat the vitamins because their diets aren’t great anyway, so they’re used to eating quite a few sweets and can’t tell the difference.’ I rephrase. ‘Well, they couldn’t tell the difference until they started changing colour.’

  ‘This is like a real-life chocolate factory situation.’

  ‘I know, I’m trying to stay out of it.’

  ‘And dating? How is dating going?’

  This will make her feel better about herself. ‘Terribly. The last guy kept making me cheers after every sentence.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound too bad.’ She’s happily married, so I forgive her lack of understanding. ‘What else did he do? Was he nice?’

  ‘He was really nice.’ And that was part of the problem.

  ‘So are you going to see him again?’

  I go back to the washing-up so I can avoid looking at her, knowing that my answer is going to disappoint.

  ‘Oh no. I’ve actually blocked him. He was too nice. And I know I should have messaged him instead of wimping out and going silent, but I couldn’t face turning him down.’ I risk a peek at Mia.

  She just sighs.

  ‘You’re looking for the perfect person, but I don’t think that person exists.’

  I have to disagree.

  ‘I don’t think that’s it. I’m not seduced by the idea of the potentially perfect person who exists just around the corner if only I could be the one to find them, but I’m not interested in dating someone I can’t bear to be around. I want to want to be with them.’ Like Tilly wants to be with Jeroen. Like Mia wants to be with Mark.

  Peter’s laugh cuts through the general din, and I look through to the games. He’s playing Scrabble with Isla, who in turn is smiling, no doubt amused by his word choice.

  ‘Well, sometimes you have to give these things time.’ She starts to help with the washing-up by grabbing a tea towel and drying. ‘When I first started going out with Mark I was so apathetic. It took me about four dates to realize that he was actually OK and then another year to realize he’s actually great.’

  I do remember the first days of Mia and Mark. She kept complaining about his backpack.

  I’ve never really reached that stage in a relationship where you can exist in peace alongside each other. Apart from my relationship with Sam, my whole dating history has been an amusing collection of short stories. Although I didn’t date at university, what with my lack of desire during the first two years post-heartbreak and then the lack of single men in the third, I did have quite an active dating life when I first moved to London. Active, but still fruitless. Fruitless, but still funny.

  ‘Maybe I’m being too optimistic, but I had hoped that I would have more luck on the dating scene this time around.’

  ‘What, as opposed to that OAP and the gym guy?’ Mia’s memory has always been impeccable. She’s referring to the only two men, since Sam, to have made it past a second date.

  ‘They weren’t that bad.’

  ‘They were.’

  I met Philip (an OAP in all ways bar his actual age) at a time when Sunday became more than the day of rest and turned into the day to announce your engagement on social media, a depressing (and pressurizing) state of affairs that meant I gave him more time than I otherwise would have. A whole six months totally wasted. At first I thought he was shy, but actually he was really boring. Making marmalade was genuinely one of the more exciting things that he did.

  And then there was Jimmy Gym, whom I started dating when personal training became quite the fashionable career choice. Rather depressingly, he was probably one of my longest relationships, at least according to my recollection. In my eyes we were dating for ten months. In his eyes, we weren’t dating at all. In his eyes, we were ‘casually seeing each other’, which meant he and his teeny tiny pencil penis were having a great time hanging out in many other pencil cases.

  ‘OK, maybe they were.’

  Washing-up all done, I distract myself with a chilli chip. ‘Anyway, it’s fine. I think I might cave in and give up.’

  She shakes her head. ‘You can’t do that. Give it some more time.’

  As if time will make these men more appealing.

  CHAPTER 7

  But I do. Despite my reluctance, I take Mia’s advice and give dating some more time. I never really thought of myself as a (deluded) optimist until now.

  I text her to keep her updated, and also to try and make her evening go more quickly. I know she’s working on a big boring case, and the one thing I can provide is some entertainment to distract her.

  On my way to a date! I’m cautiously optimistic about this one! I’ll let you know how it goes! Don’t forget to eat dinner! xx

  And I am cautiously optimistic. Toby, my date, seems just the right level of keen. In a turnaround of events, he was the one who asked me to go for a drink, and he even chose the bar and booked a table. From the outside the bar looks cute, and from the inside, which is where I now am, I’m delighted to see that they also offer a charcuterie board.

  Sitting at the table, practising my casual look, I get a text from Toby.

  Sorry I’m running late, saw a lost dog on the road and had to find the owner.

  It’s as if he’s reading my mind, and I immediately accept this as a satisfactory excuse.

  Don’t worry at all! Take your time! Poor little puppy.

  Turns out he’s twenty-five minutes late. My casual pose doesn’t last for twenty-five minutes. Its cut-off point is eighteen, and my maximum wait-time is thirty. He’s cutting it pretty fine.

  A man casually points at me.

  ‘Bea? Are you Bea?’

  I nod.

  The man then points to himself. ‘Toby. I’m so sorry I’m late, so rude of me.’

  At first glance he’s quite attractive, but obviously shorter than his photos would lead you to believe.

  He takes off his jacket and settles into the seat opposite me.

  ‘Did you find the owner?’

  ‘Huh?’ He looks at me as if I have two heads, and then his eyes widen in understanding. ‘I mean, that might have been a lie, sorry. I was running late and thought the dog story would be an acceptable excuse. You seemed pretty dog-obsessed.’

  I can see how he came to this conclusion. I sent him a lot of dog memes to illustrate my varying moods. It seemed a safer option than using words. And it’s true, I do love dogs, but I don’t particularly like that he lied or that I was gullible enough to fall for the story.

  It all rests on his answer to my next question.

  ‘How do you feel about cats?’

  ‘Not good. I don’t understand why their skin is so stretchy.’

  If he’d been pro-feline, I would have stood up and walked away.

  A bottle of wine and a surprisingly pleasing plate of meat, cheese, crackers and some odd pickled items later, I am delighted to report that what happens is a pleasant surprise. I like him just enough to potentially date him. We have a nice evening; he tells me about his family (his mum sounds nuts), his job (‘I’m kinda like Santa’ – by which he means he runs a website that sells cheap gifts, a comparison I find quite amusing, unless he genuinely thinks he’s like Santa Claus, in which case we have a problem), and his friends. I even think there is some flirting going on. Part-way through, I note that I keep copying his physical movements, so I try to stop, but then I become even more stilted, so decide to let my body pose in whatever way it likes.

  Unbelievably there are no lengthy silences, and like a modern-day romance, we have a cheeky goodnight kiss outside the bar. He’s a good kisser, despite being short. (Maybe he’s a good kisser because he’s short? Have I been missing a trick here?) Mainly I’m proud of myself that I actually remembered how to kiss someone. I had plenty of time to prepare when I noticed he came back from the loo chewing gum. All in all, a good date. There is hope! I feel the giddiness of hope!

  On my
way to the bus stop I reach for my phone. Mia will be twitching with anticipation; she’ll start calling soon if I don’t send her an update.

  It went well! He seemed really nice and most importantly – normal! We even had a cheeky kiss!

  I add in the teenage gossip because I know Mia will be proud. Her reply is instant.

  Oh yay! This is great! Was the kiss good?

  I’m about to type out my answer as my phone rings. It’s Mum. It’s quite late for her to be calling.

  ‘Hey, Mum! Are you OK?’

  ‘Bea! Yes, I’m fine. Are you OK? You sound happy. What have you been up to?’ How can mums always tell when there is something juicy going on?

  ‘I’m OK too.’ I haven’t told her about any of my dates as she would get her hopes up, so I remain purposefully vague. ‘I’ve had a good day. And I had a charcuterie board for dinner.’

  ‘Oh, that is good.’

  ‘How are you doing? How’s Hugo?’ Hugo is my mum’s dog and best friend.

  ‘Oh, he’s fine. He’s currently napping.’ I can imagine the two of them now. Both snuggled with a blanket. One of them lightly snoring.

  ‘I was wondering if you were thinking of coming home soon. I saw your favourite face wash on offer and I thought I would pick some up.’

  I do need to go see her. I haven’t been home since before Mia’s wedding. My dad isn’t around any more, so my brother Fred and I like to visit her at least once a month. Sadly my dating escapades have made it harder to find the free time.

  I lie slightly. ‘I was actually hoping to come home in the next couple of weeks. Would that be OK?’

  ‘That would be lovely. You lead such busy lives, you and your brother. But only come home if you can. Just let me know beforehand so I can pick up something for dinner.’

  Mum fills me in on all the town gossip, including a shocking case of petty arson at the local park. I listen happily, glad to be distracted from my more anxious thoughts. I had a good time tonight, but what if I read the situation wrong? What if I was a little too ‘me’? What if he thought my bum was a little too big, my wonky walk a little too wonky, my conversation too meandering?

  I look up in time to see my bus pulling in ahead of me. I half run towards it, hoping nobody I know is around to see.

  I reach the doors in time and make a big faff trying to get my card out to pay. It’s hard to do with a phone in one hand. ‘Mum, I’ve got to go, my bus is here.’ The idea of a bus full of people overhearing my mum’s fairly middle-class problems makes me cringe, so I keep the goodbye short and meander my thoughts back to Toby as I find my seat.

  He did kiss me. He wouldn’t have kissed me if he had a bad time. I let myself feel hope again.

  CHAPTER 8

  I get to work thirty minutes before my contracted start time, which is late according to everyone else in the office, sit down at my desk and ease myself into the day.

  Keen not to put too much pressure on the date with Toby, but rejuvenated by the thought that not all dating is bad, I decide to reassign some of my online shopping time to the online man hunt. I choose to think of it as self-care and decide to be proud of myself for recognizing when I need some me-time, instead of being depressed that once again my contribution to the workplace is so minimal that spending two hours doing absolutely no work goes totally unnoticed.

  So I swipe whilst pretending to catch up on emails, but despite my refreshed attitude it’s still a bleak world out there, and at the peak of my despair I sign up for speed dating next Tuesday evening, a decision I immediately regret.

  Of course, I don’t forget Toby. I texted him this morning and eventually he replied, but, like an avocado, with dating there is a very short period of time when it’s just right, and I fear letting too much time lapse between date one and date two. Still, the one thing I have learnt from mistiming the ripeness of my avocados is that if you shove enough lime, salt and chilli in there you can make an excellent guacamole.

  So this is essentially what I do with Toby, except I swap lime, salt and chilli for GIFs and puns. This time we have promoted our choice of date day to a Thursday, which works well as speed dating is on Tuesday, giving me a whole day and a half to ready myself to socialize again.

  By the time I’ve finished swiping, a generous hour has passed and there is no point doing any work today. I’m leaving at lunch(ish) for a smear test and if I start anything now, I’ll have to redo it tomorrow morning.

  Besides, I am distracted, and I can’t work when I’m distracted. I’m worried about all the potential mishaps that might happen during my smear test. What if I fart? I didn’t last time, but a fart during a smear test would be bad, probably worse than a fart in yoga.

  I could just not show up, but I’ve left it for longer than I should have and I’ve intentionally worn a wrap dress instead of jeans to make getting undressed slightly more dignified than my last experience.

  I’m busy getting up to speed with the ‘news’, also known as the sidebar of shame, when I hear a louder-than-office-acceptable greeting. ‘Bea! Good morning!’ I look up and see Penny striding towards my desk, smiling her room-lightening smile, leaving a trail of ogling eyes in her wake. Annoyingly, although her beauty is undeniable and I often feel like a lowly peasant in her company, she’s also one of the kindest people in the office and I can’t help but love her.

  ‘I just remembered that you’re out of the office this afternoon. Do you need me to do anything? And what are you up to? I hope it’s something scandalous.’ She winks at me. ‘If it is, can I come with you?’

  ‘Nothing scandalous, I’m afraid. I have my smear test.’

  ‘Ah, nice. Good outfit for it.’

  This is why she’s my work wife. Great minds think alike, and fools seldom differ. With us, the latter part of the saying is definitely more suitable.

  ‘I remember the last time I got my smear test. God, it wasn’t great.’

  I worry her anecdote isn’t going to make me feel better about my upcoming appointment.

  ‘The nurse had to keep getting bigger implements. Eventually she actually said to me, “I’ve never seen such a big vagina on such a small girl.” I swear that’s exactly what she said. Since then I’ve been doing Kegel exercises for at least fifteen minutes every day.’

  I look at her suspiciously. ‘Were you doing them in the comms meeting yesterday morning? When everyone was talking about how to handle the kids-changing-colour issue?’

  ‘Oh my God – yes! How did you know?’

  ‘I remember glancing over at you and thinking it looked like you were concentrating really hard, but I knew you weren’t. Good idea doing them in meetings.’

  ‘I know, right? Really keeps me looking present.’

  I look at the clock.

  I’m definitely not going to start any new work now. ‘Wanna get lunch?’ I can go to the doctor’s straight from there.

  Penny’s smile widens. ‘Sounds great. Let me go get my money.’

  ‘Who you texting?’ She nudges me.

  Penny knows all about my dating life, so no doubt she thinks my smile is for Toby. She’s wrong.

  ‘It’s my mum. I’ve asked if I can go home this weekend. She’s now panicking that she won’t have time to clean the house and is already apologizing.’

  ‘Ah, a classic mum problem.’

  We head out of the building and turn left towards the tube.

  ‘Sushi place round the corner?’ Penny is always a bad influence when it comes to spending money on food.

  ‘Sure. Let’s treat ourselves.’ I’ll get some batch-cooked soup out of the freezer for dinner.

  She strides next to me, her long legs making me walk a touch quicker than normal. ‘Thanks for suggesting we go to lunch. I don’t know what it is, but the office has had a really bad vibe recently. Is it just me?’

  I hadn’t really thought about it. To me, work always has a bad vibe. ‘I guess we have had a lot of new people start recently, which I think makes people like Jo
an a bit on edge. All the extra competition.’

  ‘I don’t like it. Every time I go into a meeting, the first five minutes are taken up by people boasting about why they’re so great and all the impressive things they’ve done. I’ve done impressive things too, but forgive me if I’m not a shouter.’ She’s getting louder and louder as she talks. ‘I worry that if I don’t shout about how great I am, people will forget me.’

  We reach the sushi place as she finishes talking. I take the volume down to an inside voice. ‘Penny, people could never forget you. You are not a forgettable person.’

  We take a quick break in our conversation to pick our sushi, pay and perch on the bar stools in the window.

  As I distribute the pickled ginger, I keep going. ‘I do see what you mean though. I just don’t know how to help. I’ve never been someone who shouts about their strengths and achievements.’ I also feel my own particular strengths and achievements can be slightly harder to find.

  ‘It’s fine. I think I’m just in a slump.’ She does actually slump when she says this. It’s not a look I normally see. She’s usually very poised. ‘I need to not care so much.’

  I shrug. ‘This has been my solution.’ I dip a piece of sushi into the soy sauce and shove it into my mouth so I can’t finish the second half of my thought. The half that admits this solution is a great way to get forgotten about.

  The waiting room at the doctor’s surgery is too warm and I’m already sweating thinking about taking my clothes off behind that useless curtain they use. Oh God. I hope I’m not sweaty down there. I should have thought about this earlier, but I can’t do anything about it now – my name has been called.

  Eventually I knock on what I hope is the right door and peek in before I enter.

  ‘Sorry – it took me a while to find the right room.’ The totally illogical numbering system didn’t help.

  A happy-faced, friendly nurse looks up at me from behind a computer screen.