11. The Guru
ELEVEN
The Guru
Monday, 18 March, 11.30pm
The house on Belgrave Square was A-MAZ-ING. The owners were in their early forties and were charm personified. Valentina is from a mega rich tin mine-owning Chilean family and Kenneth is a wine importer (nice job if you can get it, but he’s done better for himself in marriage). They showed me pictures of the enormous ranch-style house they’d had built in Chile.
‘Wow, that’s incredible. Do you live there for part of the year then?’ I asked.
‘Oh no, that’s the barbeque house. The main house is a few hundred yards away,’ Valentina explained.
Anyway, the job turned out to be – drumroll – designing a cloakroom! I hereby christen this job Project Toilet. No job too small for this interior designer.
P.S. When I changed handbags for the meeting, I found the Wellness Advocate’s card from my date with Cement Man. No other dates on the horizon, so I might as well contact him and see what he’s like.
Tuesday, 19 March, 11.30pm
Grace came over tonight for a chat. She said going to the hospital is becoming a full-time job, but the uncertainty is the most difficult part. She’s bearing up but wants to know what the future holds for her. They’re still doing lots of tests. As expected, Ajay has been a star in supporting and looking after her.
On happier news, The Wellness Advocate was keen to meet when I texted him. I Googled him afterwards. He looks like a white-haired Jesus. Very Zen and calm-looking with piercing green eyes. Definitely worth a date. I think I’ll call him The Guru.
Thursday, 21 March, 9.30am
First day of spring, and I have a spring in my step. Meeting The Guru later. He wants to meet at Zen Coffee in Covent Garden. Of course he does.
1.30pm
That was one of the strangest, most intense, and emotional first dates ever. The coffee shop was noisy and crowded but he stood out like an oasis of calm, dressed all in white with a Karl Lagerfeld ponytail, his intense eyes finding mine across the room. I can’t believe I didn’t notice him at the bar when I was with Cement Man. I introduced myself and sat down but he was mute. He gave me a handwritten note saying, ‘the universe told me to have a day of silence today. Let’s speak with our eyes.’
‘Ha ha, that’s the best icebreaker ever,’ I said, but he said nothing, continuing to stare.
I was about to say sorry this is not for me, but his eyes were veeery pretty, so I thought, what the hell. I ordered my coffee, verbally. He ordered his herbal tea using the international language of pointing.
‘So, do you often leave your card for unsuspecting women at bars?’
Nothing.
‘I was on a date when you spotted me, but I didn’t see him again,’ I said, struggling to continue the one-sided conversation. Heat was rising up my neck and into my face and I felt beads of perspiration over my upper lip. Why do hot flushes always pick the worst times?
I was about to launch into another question when he gently guided my hands down onto the table and put his own over mine. It took a few minutes of locking eyes with him – though it felt like hours – before I could stop the internal chatter of ‘WTF is going on?’ The light in his bright green eyes was mesmerising and his slightly off-kilter face intriguing.
At first, it was hard to hold his gaze, but as my breathing became regular and my body relaxed, I entered his zone, shutting out the rest of the world, our energies intermingling. It wasn’t lustful or urgent but a holistic connection. My pent-up emotions were whipped up into a tsunami, which burst out in slow motion from my eyes. I didn’t know why I was crying but it felt good. Then he released my hands, sat back and the spell was broken. Embarrassed by my tears, I went to the loo to clean up but when I came out, he’d gone.
11.30pm
Couldn’t do any work this afternoon. Far too perturbed by today’s experience. Why did I cry? Was it purely his effect on me, or did he look into my soul? I have so many questions. I Googled ‘staring into people’s eyes’. Apparently, there have been studies that show ten minutes of staring into someone’s eyes can induce a hallucinogenic effect. It sure induced something in me. Why did he go without saying goodbye though? No text since then. I’m drawn to him and want to see him again.
Friday, 22 March, 11.30pm
No word from The Guru. Does a vow of silence apply to texts? I’m restless and hankering after the trippy feeling he created. But given he left unexpectedly, I’m not going to contact him. Did he see something in my eyes that he didn’t like? Did I scare him away by being vulnerable and crying? Or is there a devilish side to me I don’t know about? Also, was it his effect on me or can looking into anybody’s eyes generate that feeling of otherworldliness? Maybe it was because the simple act of looking into someone’s eyes is such an intimate experience. I’ve been suppressing my true feelings for such a long time, it was as if those few moments of intimacy whipped up my emotions and forced them out along with the tears. Am I lying even to myself? Denying my craving for a true connection and not allowing myself to admit I want to love and be loved? I’ve been pretending not to care for so long I don’t even know anymore. But look what happens when I do show my emotions.
Saturday, 23 March, 2.30pm
First Brunch Bunch since Grace’s cancer diagnosis. She’s been told she needs a lumpectomy and is waiting for an operation date, but more tests are needed to decide if there would be other treatments like chemotherapy or radiotherapy. She had droopy shoulders and a tired expression but obviously wanted a distraction. She and Leila thought I should stay away from The Guru.
‘He sounds like a nutter,’ was Leila’s assessment of him.
‘Or a narcissist,’ added Grace.
‘Or both,’ Leila said, ‘and I bet he left you with the bill.’ How the hell did she know that?
Yes, he was a bit, let’s say, unusual. But given we were only together for fifteen minutes, I was surprised to feel such a connection. No throbbing in the vagina department but an experience mostly concentrated above the waist. Anyway, what’s a cup of tea between spiritual friends?
Tried the staring thing with Leila but couldn’t keep it going for long without fits of giggles, so I did it with Grace. She cried, then we all sobbed.
Sunday, 24 March, 11.30pm
The Guru texted. He said his soul was elevated when he explored my eyes. Just his soul? He’s invited me to his next wellness workshop. Doesn’t sound like a date but I’ll give it a go. I checked out his website and it’s a bit Goop, and not my kind of thing. The blurb is up itself and there are lots of expensive products claiming to improve your life, and sex toys with ambiguous descriptions. Where does one insert The Intensifier? The whole set-up feels like it’s preying on lonely single women, and the prices are steep. An eyewatering (in more ways than one) ￡260 for the said Intensifier.
But I’m intrigued by The Guru and looking forward to seeing him. I wonder if we’ll get some alone time.
Monday, 25 March, 11.30pm
I got the Project Toilet job. Hurrah! I hope they’ll be adventurous. The smallest room in the house is always a great opportunity to be flamboyant. I might not show them the weird ones I’ve done though, like the guy who wanted it to look like an alleyway or the infinity one where every inch was covered with mirrors.
Wednesday, 27 March, 11.30pm
Phoned Mum and Dad for a chat. An hour and twenty minutes of tech support later! Trying to get a seventy-nine-year-old to hold her phone camera over her iPad so I can teach her how to use her Painting by Numbers app was exhausting. No sooner was that sorted, and she passed the phone to Dad who wanted to know if they should get an ‘Anita’ like their neighbour had.
‘Samuel says Anita’s really clever. You can ask her how old you are and where you live, but your mother’s not keen. Have you got an ‘Anita’ Sophie love?’
Mum shouted across the room. ‘She listens to everything you say and puts it on Google. I don’t want everyone knowing our business.’
I laughed, but who’s going to do my tech support when I’m too old to fathom it? Will I end up lonely and isolated because I can’t work out how to communicate with the digital world anymore, and there are no grandchildren to keep me up to date? It’s a scary thought.
Thursday, 28 March, 11.30pm
Grace’s op is on 15 April.
Friday, 29 March, 11.30pm
Went to see my real-life princess client from a Middle Eastern royal family (I’m not allowed to say which). She doesn’t work and has no problem spending the family fortune. She wants a new bed and, as always, wants the most expensive one that money can buy. I told her that the best bed with spring technology to make it the most comfortable sleep would cost around ￡35K. She wasn’t impressed.
‘What if it was gold-plated?’ she asked.
‘It’s covered in fabric, so unfortunately it can’t be gold-plated. How about a gold headboard?’
‘Yes, let’s do that. Can we like, also get the springs made with gold?’
Saturday, 30 March, 11.30pm
Here’s a fact I didn’t want to know. Was watching a programme on TV about menopause tonight. Apparently, your labia darkens as you get older. How do they know, and who’s been keeping track?
Sunday, 31 March, 11.30pm
Went shopping with Grace for PJs to wear in hospital. They think she’ll be in for one night, which must mean they’re not expecting complications. Good news, surely. We went to Harvey Nichols for drinks afterwards. I distracted her with tales of Project Toilet and Dad wanting to buy an ‘Anita’. She got quite tipsy and giggled. It was nice.