Chapter 7
7
‘How would you describe yourself, socially?’ Sam asks.
The cruise is just over a week away, and Sam and I are at home. She’s staring at her laptop while I’m poring over the guidebooks I’ve bought for the various destinations we’re going to visit and making notes on places I definitely want to see. Samson, typically, is taking no interest and is fast asleep on the sofa next to me.
‘What do you mean?’
‘If you had to describe yourself, what words would you use?’
‘It would depend on the context. Why?’
‘I’m wondering whether the reason I attract arseholes is because of the way I’ve described myself on the apps. I thought it might be helpful to hear the kinds of words you would use, to see if there’s anything I could be doing differently.’
Something about this isn’t ringing quite true, but I can’t work out what. I stare at Sam, but her face is a picture of innocence.
‘I thought you’d deleted all the apps,’ I say eventually.
‘I did, but you know me. Always the optimist, hoping the next guy won’t turn out to be a jerk. So, come on. Give me some words.’
‘I don’t know. How would you describe me?’
‘That’s not going to help, is it? I want to hear a completely different perspective, not the same perspective on a different person.’
‘Why don’t I describe you then? After all, it’s you on the app.’
She thinks for a minute. ‘No, that won’t work.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because it has to be my authentic voice. Come on, help me out here.’
I sigh and put down the book. ‘Fine. I’d say I was kind, trustworthy and loyal.’
She stares at me in disbelief. ‘That’s it?’
‘Are you saying I’m not those things?’
‘No, you are. It’s just…’
‘What?’
‘Those aren’t very good marketing words. Someone reading that isn’t going to think, “Cor, I’d love to meet her.”’
‘I’m not trying to market myself though. You asked me how I’d describe myself and I did.’
‘What about “Gorgeous dark-haired beauty with blue eyes you can lose yourself in and a rack to die for”?’
‘You’re overstating my looks, and it’s a bit shallow, isn’t it? It doesn’t say anything about me as a person.’
‘Gets your attention though, doesn’t it? If I was a man, I’d read that and immediately want to find out more.’
‘If Threesome Pete read that, he’d go straight to sending a dick pic. How did you describe yourself before?’
‘Auburn-haired stunner,’ she admits with a giggle.
‘Hmm. A bit tabloid, if you ask me. Did you include topless photos?’
‘Of course not. What kind of person do you think I am?’
‘An auburn-haired stunner,’ I say, laughing. ‘At least tell me you put in your measurements.’ I put on a lecherous tone. ‘Auburn-haired stunner Sam, 36, 28, 36, is waiting for your call on 0800 DIAL-A-DATE.’
‘Stop it,’ she says. ‘It’s not that bad.’
‘It really is. Surely if all you describe are your visual assets, you’re going to attract the kind of man who’s only interested in the superficial. A proper man would be much more interested in you as a person.’
‘What would Ryan Gosling do?’
‘Oh, he’d read that I was kind, trustworthy and loyal and contact me immediately.’
‘What if you looked like the back end of a bus though?’
‘Ryan would see beyond mere looks.’
‘I don’t think he would. Can you imagine? There he is, all glamorous and amazing on the red carpet, with some moose next to him?’
‘Thanks a lot!’
‘I don’t mean you, obviously. You’re a gorgeous dark-haired beauty, as I’ve already said. Ryan would read your profile, but he’d also look at the pictures, and then he’d be straight in touch.’
‘Sadly, I don’t think Ryan Gosling is in need of dating apps. If he were, I might consider signing up.’
‘We’re in danger of getting off topic. What other words would you use to describe yourself?’
I think for a minute. ‘Independent and intelligent.’
She smacks her forehead. ‘No wonder you’re single. Those aren’t attributes any man wants in a partner!’
‘Why not? This is the twenty-first century; surely we’ve moved beyond the days where I’m expected to be completely dependent on some emotional neanderthal who only says five words per day but is miraculously always there to catch me in his strong arms when I faint.’
‘Tell that to the guys.’
‘OK. Serious question. Are you ready?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why do you put yourself through it? What’s in it for you?’
‘Love, obviously.’
‘But, not to put too fine a point on it, I’m not seeing love happen for you. What I see is a series of hopeless chancers who promise you the world and spectacularly fail to deliver.’
‘You’ve got to kiss a lot of toads before you find your prince. What’s your plan then? Surely you don’t intend to stay single forever.’
‘I haven’t ruled out the possibility.’
‘What about children, though? I know you want them.’
‘I could adopt.’
‘Hard work on your own.’
‘Look,’ I tell her firmly, a little irritated now. ‘We’ve had this conversation thousands of times. I get that you feel you need a man to complete you, but I really don’t. If, and it’s a big if, I were to fall in love with someone, they’d need to bring something to my life that I couldn’t get any other way. Currently, I can’t see what that might be. I’m financially stable, I’ve got good friends and I’m sorted for sex. If I want cuddles, I’ve got Samson.’
Hearing his name, Samson opens his eyes, purrs loudly and stretches out his paw, digging his claws into my thigh and making me wince.
‘I can see how much you’re enjoying that,’ Sam says with a smile. ‘And I know you think you’re some poster girl for the single life, with your “There’s nothing a man can give me that a decent vibrator can’t” anthem, but that’s not sex. It’s like waving a chicken nugget around and trying to convince everyone it’s a banquet fit for a king.’
‘What?’
‘It’s true. If you look on the side of a packet of chicken nuggets, there’s usually something in the ingredients list about “mechanically recovered meat”. Do you know what that is?’
‘Do I need to? Is it relevant here?’
‘As a matter of fact, I think it’s a perfect illustration. So, after they’ve chopped all the good meat off the chicken, they’re left with a carcass and all the gristly bits that you wouldn’t normally eat. They lob all of that into a big machine, which crushes it and extrudes it and basically spits out this revolting chicken paste – the euphemistically labelled mechanically recovered meat – which then goes into your nugget. That’s what you’ve got, mechanically recovered sex. It looks like sex, it might even feel a bit like sex, but it’s not a patch on the real thing.’
‘OK, I don’t think it is a good illustration but, if we’re going to use it, I’d argue that chicken nuggets are still food. They fill you up in the same way that a meal in a Michelin-starred restaurant would, but with a lot less faff and at a fraction of the price. Actually, I like this analogy.’
‘But you can’t live on chicken nuggets. They’re all right as a stop gap, when you just need fuel, but you’d get ill if that was all you ate.’
‘I wouldn’t get food poisoning though,’ I counter, pleased with myself. ‘Have you ever met Jono’s friend Laurent?’
‘Is he the IT guy?’
‘That’s him. I think Jono was quite interested in him for a while before Robbie came on the scene. Anyway, we were talking about food, because he travels a lot with his work and, being French, I thought he’d be into trying all the local cuisines. Do you know what he said?’
‘No.’
‘He said that he almost exclusively eats in McDonald’s when he’s travelling, because he knows it will be consistent and not make him ill. So, you might look down on my chicken nugget sex, as you put it, but at least I’m not going to get sexual food poisoning from some dodgy bloke like Jason or Threesome Pete.’
‘Are you seriously equating my sex life to eating dodgy street food?’
‘If the cap fits.’
I can see the concentration on her face as she frantically tries to think of a comeback, but in the end she sighs.
‘It’s a fair cop,’ she agrees. ‘Jason was definitely not Michelin starred in the sex department.’
‘What did you see in him?’
‘He’s not bad looking, and he could be quite funny.’
‘How do you define “not bad looking”?’ I ask with a laugh.
‘He’s got a nice smile, with decent teeth behind it. His personal hygiene was good too.’
‘Hey, guys,’ I mock-call. ‘Meet my friend Sam. If you’ve got all your own teeth and don’t smell like a bin, she’s probably interested.’
‘Sassy,’ she says suddenly.
‘What?’
‘That’s the word I’d use to describe you. Dark haired, beautiful, great rack, sassy as shit.’
‘Hmm. I think I prefer “kind and loyal”.’
‘I’m not sure the way you’ve just come for me is particularly kind or loyal.’
‘I didn’t start this,’ I tell her firmly. ‘I was just defending myself against you and your mechanically recovered whatever.’
‘OK, OK. Truce?’
‘Truce.’
We both get up and hug fiercely. ‘I love you; you know that?’ Sam says into my hair.
‘I know. I love you too, which is why I want to see you happy.’
‘Don’t worry about me. I’ve got irons in the fire.’
I pull back and look at her. ‘Of course you have,’ I tell her with a smile.
* * *
‘I know I was rude about the whole cruise thing,’ Em tells me as I’m packing my bag a week later. ‘But I’ll admit that seeing you put all those sun dresses and hats and things in your case is making me a little jealous. What time is the taxi coming?’
‘Six. We’ve booked a room at the airport hotel, so we’re going to have dinner and then crash out for as long as we can before we have to get up for the flight to Rome. Are you sure you’re going to be OK here?’
‘Oh, I’ll be just fine. Ten days without Mum and Dad constantly in my earhole is my idea of paradise right now. And I’ll have this handsome fellow to look out for me until Charlie arrives.’ She reaches down to where Samson is contentedly curled up on the bed and strokes him, causing him to purr loudly.
‘What’s Charlie going to do while you’re in the shop?’ I ask.
‘He’s got some job applications to work on, plus I’ve appointed him head chef while he’s here, so he’ll have to be out and about getting ingredients and stuff for all the fantastic meals he’s going to cook me. I’ll be too tired, having been slaving away in the bookshop all day.’
‘Please don’t let him wreck my kitchen,’ I implore her. Not long after Em started going out with Charlie, he tried to impress my parents by cooking dinner for them. I’m not entirely sure what went wrong, but I know it involved the smoke alarm going off, an emergency takeaway and Mum’s favourite frying pan having to be consigned to the bin.
‘He won’t,’ she assures me. ‘He’s much better now, honest.’
I reach down to stroke Samson, who stretches luxuriantly and increases his purring to the level of a small road drill.
‘I’m relying on you to keep order,’ I tell him. ‘Any nonsense from Em or Charlie, and I want to know about it, you understand?’
‘Hey, Samson’s no grass,’ Em says with a smile. ‘He knows the code. Snitches get stitches, am I right?’
‘Just look after the place, promise?’
‘It’ll be fine, stop stressing. Go and have an amazing time. Everything will be just as you left it when you get back. Assuming the police don’t find our stash of drugs and arrest us, of course.’
‘Em—’
‘I’m joking!’
‘Are you all set?’ Sam asks, sticking her head around the door. ‘The taxi will be here any minute.’
I take a final look around my room, checking if there’s anything still there that should be in a case. I also consult the packing list I wrote, making sure that every item is checked off. Finally, I double-check that my passport is safely stashed in my handbag with the other travel documents.
‘Yup,’ I tell her. ‘Ready as I’ll ever be.’
As the taxi pulls away, I turn in my seat and look out of the back window to see Em standing on the pavement, holding Samson in one arm and waving with the other. Despite my warnings, I do trust her to take care of the flat, and I hope she and Charlie will be able to enjoy their time together.
Meanwhile, I’ve got a holiday to look forward to. Sam’s right; we’ve both been working too hard, and this is hopefully going to be just the break we need.