Aged to Perfection

21. The Hot One Again and Again

TWENTY-ONE

The Hot One Again and Again

Monday, 8 July, 7.30am

D Day today. My first date with The Hot One. I hope he texts soon, so I know what we’re doing tonight. I took the initiative and made the date come about so I’m not going to chase him today. SO EXCITED.

11.30am

Still no text. He should have contacted me by now.

1.30pm

No text.

2.30pm

I can’t bear it.

4.00pm

Right, I need to know what’s happening.

4.15pm

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I texted him only to be told he has an emergency with his kids and can’t make it. I was full of adrenalin in anticipation of the date and now I feel like I’ve had it punched out of me. I would have been disappointed but accepted it if he’d told me he had an emergency, but to wait until I contacted him? That’s rude. Was he even going to tell me?

10.30pm

Went for a walk to shake it off. The people of Islington obviously don’t believe in curtains. There were so many happy families round dining tables and a few couples having candlelit dinners. I know it’s not an attractive attribute, but I felt envious. Early night for me. Let’s hope our date on Wednesday will make up for it.

Tuesday, 9 July, 11.30pm

I was hoping he’d call with an update but nothing. Is the emergency ongoing?

Wednesday, 10 July, 4.00pm

He texted to say he had to work late, and shall we go out on Friday? Aargh. I’ll give him one more chance.

11.30pm

I suppose he couldn’t help it if he had to work. He can’t just walk away. Fingers crossed for Friday.

Friday, 12 July, 10.30am

He’s booked the restaurant and we’re all set for tonight. Butterflies in my stomach. I hope he’s as charming as I remember from the party.

6.30pm

Spent all day on a building site getting filthy. After much scrubbing in the shower, I’m ready for The Hot One.

11.30pm

I’m in heaven. It was a perfect date tonight. Going to bed to dream of him.

Saturday, 13 July, 1.30pm

Woke up to the memory of my lovely date last night, which made me feel energised and positively skip to ‘Born to Grind’. I walked in with a huge smile on my face.

Leila took one look at me and said, ‘I take it the date was good?’

‘Oh yes. You could say that. In fact, it was perfect. He’d booked Le Petit Bistro in Islington. How did he know it’s one of my favourites? Anyway, we talked all evening about our lives and childhoods and all sorts of things, until the restaurant threw us out. And we had a kiss before parting.’ I grinned.

‘You’re like a teenager, Sophia. No, like Cinderella after she’s met the prince.’ Grace giggled.

‘You can laugh at me all you like. I haven’t been this happy for a long time.’ It was true. Finally, I felt like I’d connected with someone who was on my wavelength. Someone who appreciated me. Someone I think has relationship potential. AND he is so exceptionally sexy. Those dazzling blue eyes, kissable mouth, and legs that go on forever. I don’t know how I managed to keep my hands off him. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I don’t want to rush into sleeping with him, because I want more than just sex. Gasp.

I think I want a proper relationship. Am I doing the right thing? I thought I didn’t want emotional entanglement, but I seem to have done a complete turnaround. Something has awakened in me, and I want more. I want to love and be loved. Is he going to be the one who entices me into coupledom?

3.30pm

Joy took one look at me and said, ‘Why you grin like that? You look silly.’

I ignored her, but she kept staring at me suspiciously. I’m sure she polished the coffee table three times.

Sunday, 14 July, 11.30pm

Haven’t heard from The Hot One. Should he have texted by now?

Monday, 15 July, 5.30pm

He wants to meet up on Wednesday. Yay! I’ve been so happy all day. Even demanding Cassandra couldn’t dampen my spirits. She told me she’d changed her mind about the master bedroom design and wanted me to come up with a new scheme. I know she’ll love it when it’s done, but she’s afraid of making the wrong decision, so she plays delaying tactics. Usually, I’d use my best interior designer/therapist skills to reassure her but today I said, ‘No problem. I’ll do a new scheme,’ and floated out of the meeting.

Wednesday, 17 July, 5.00pm

We’re going for a romantic picnic tonight. The food and the fizz are all packed in an ice bag. Now I’ll make myself delicious!

11.55pm

WOW, WOW, WOW. Tonight’s date was the best. I’m so turned on and tingling all over that I can’t sleep. We found a lovely spot near the lake and spent the evening draped on a blanket, flirting and frolicking. Sitting in the middle of all that natural beauty, his eyes glinted, and he looked at me like I was the most beautiful creature there. There were still people wandering around the park, but we were in a bubble of lust that blurred out everything and everyone around us. I hadn’t felt quite like that for a long time, that depth of desire – and yes, even a hint of potential for love. I reached out and caressed his shoulders and arms as he lay back on his elbows. He sat up and held me around the waist. I felt protected and wanted.

By the time I opened the picnic, I was all fingers and thumbs, and flustered with a pink face. I managed to get the tuna salad dressing all over his T-shirt. Then I popped the prosecco cork, which hit him – comedy style – on the forehead just above his right eye.

‘I probably deserved that. Sorry I didn’t have time to bring anything, but I knew you’d be all over it.’

I said it was OK, but it would have been nice if he’d brought something.

We walked through the park, our hands naturally finding each other. We kissed again, a long and lingering goodbye kiss as I stood on my tiptoes, and he bent down to reach me.

‘Ever since we met, I hoped for this,’ he said, holding me around the waist with no intention of letting go.

‘Did you?’ I asked, then teased, ‘It’s a good thing I made it happen then.’

He protested it wasn’t true and that he’d done the running. ‘Whoever it was, we got to the right place,’ he said, and kissed me again.

‘What’s that?’ I sniffed. ‘Is that Eau de Tuna I can smell?’

He laughed and shook his head, and I noticed the beginnings of a bruise around his eye.

I think I’m falling for him a little.

Thursday, 18 July, 11.30pm

Went to see potential clients in Camden today. The couple and their two teenage daughters were charming, but the house was obviously ruled by their three creepy-looking crinkly pink sphinx cats with piercing blue eyes. I could see the evidence of their mess and destruction on the carpets, sofas, and beds. The cats sensed a nonbeliever among them and showed their discontent by puking up on the stairs as I was being shown around the house. The owners thought it was terribly funny and said it happens all the time. I need the money, but I don’t want the job. Everything will be destroyed by the cats.

Was hoping for a ‘Thank you for the lovely picnic’ text, but nothing. I’m sure I didn’t imagine the connection between us. Or am I jumping ahead too much? No, I’m certain he likes me. He looks at me with such warmth and longing. Anyway, life’s too short and he’s gorgeous. Why hold back?

Friday, 19 July, 5.30pm

The Hot One texted this afternoon and wants to meet up soon. He said he didn’t want to wait too long to see me again. We have a date on Sunday. I can’t wait to see and touch him again. No sex for a few dates though. It’ll be better to wait and get to know him. I sound like The Ice Skater. I still feel guilty about him.

Saturday, 20 July, 2.30pm

‘What’s the latest with The Hot One?’ asked Grace as I sat at the table.

I told them about the picnic date. Leila was being cautious again and telling me to calm down and not jump the gun. Grace found it amusing and kept laughing. I know she’s been down lately after her cancer surgery, so it was great to see her enjoying herself. But as soon as I asked her how she was recovering, she broke down and said she’d had a meltdown last week because she might need chemotherapy. She was fretting about Ajay and the kids and her career, on top of worrying about how her body will cope with it. Personally, I think she should give up her job. She doesn’t need that level of stress on top of everything else.

I felt guilty to have been gushing about dating while Grace was suppressing her emotions. But I’m going to her next appointment with her, so I’ll have a chance to be a better friend then. Hopefully, there’ll be some good news for a change.

Ace was quiet. He was probably fed up with listening to me going on, or is he regretting causing his marriage breakup now he knows what dating is like nowadays? I wanted to catch up with him on his own, but he’s off abroad again tomorrow.

11.30pm

The Hot One has booked Terrazza in Highbury for tomorrow. He has good taste in food. And women, of course. They do a tasting menu. Oh, how I’d love to play strip tasting menu with him, like in my Mr Delicious dream. We could play pretend stripping and imagine we’re getting naked. That would certainly hot things up. He’ll be ravenous for me after that.

Sunday, 21 July, 11.30pm

I’m in bed (on my own) and trying not to float away. It was sexy, fun, and perfect tonight. The Hot One sizzled in jeans and a blue T-shirt that set off his eyes beautifully. He leaned forward and nodded when I suggested the strip tasting idea. The waiter was perplexed when we said we didn’t want him to announce each dish, but did want to keep the menu for reference. The food was tasty and The Hot One even tastier. The game was better than in the dream, less dramatic but more intimate and seductive. Sometimes, keeping your clothes on can be more erotic. He kept my gaze while we were eating and watched my mouth as I guessed the ingredients. Not an out-of-body experience, like with The Guru, but an altogether more sensual and romantic one. At first anyway. Then we descended into uncontrollable laughter as we tried and failed miserably to do dirty talk.

‘I like your shorts,’ I said, after I’d imagined him taking off his trousers, ‘but I wasn’t expecting Latex on the first date. I think you should take them off.’

‘I like your bra, but I wasn’t expecting nipple tassels on the first date. I think you should take it off,’ he replied.

‘And that piercing on your … erm … do you take that off at night?’ I asked.

‘No, but I think you’ll enjoy it.’ He winked.

Neither of us knew where to take it after that so there was a slightly awkward pause.

‘It’s Sophia, isn’t it?’ said a Phil Mitchell lookalike with an impressive beer belly as he came over to our table. ‘I didn’t recognise you with your clothes on,’ he said in a geezer accent, with leery eyes and leerier grin.

‘I’m sorry. Do I know you?’ I said.

‘I came to the life drawing class you modelled for,’ he said, putting life drawing in quotation marks with his index fingers. ‘I was with the stag do.’

‘Oh.’ I blushed like a ripe peach.

‘Good to see you, even with your clothes on.’ He laughed as he walked away.

I picked up my spoon and stabbed my panna cotta as The Hot One tried to hide his own wide grin with his hand. I’d done the class as an act of defiance after I broke up with The Traitor. I wanted to feel that my body was beautiful and worthy of capturing on canvas. But the stag party were hideous and were thrown out after making lewd comments. It was horrible.

‘He looked like a nightmare student,’ The Hot One said but didn’t ask any questions, as he could see I wasn’t entirely comfortable with the revelation. I like him even more now. He’s playful and brings out the mischievous in me. Despite feeling sexually charged by the end of the evening, I said no when he asked to come home with me. I’m managing to control my sexual urges so far, and my heart is fluttering away and wants to fall in love. How did I go from ‘only sex’ to no sex unless it’s a relationship? I’m going from one extreme to the other, I know. I’ve remembered what it’s like when you meet someone you really want. The butterflies, the luscious thoughts, and that lightheaded, breathless feeling of lust. Leila was so right about me changing my tune as soon as I meet the right person. Obviously, I’ve been in denial, telling myself I don’t need love and pretending to just want sex, when all along I yearned to be in love.

Monday, 22 July, 6.00pm

Mum called so I asked her for advice on the Leila and Jude situation. She thought it was best to keep quiet. These things have a habit of working themselves out and one should not interfere in someone else’s marriage. I decided to take her advice and promised to practise my best Jude-friendly face for next time.

‘Mum, you’re so lucky you’ve never had to worry about anything like that with Dad.’

‘Hmm…’

‘That didn’t sound convincing, Mum,’ I joked, confident that Dad would never be unfaithful.

‘What? Sorry, Lovely. I’m a bit busy. Must go.’

She rung off. Why is she so busy? Or did she say that because she didn’t want to talk about Dad? Come to think of it, she didn’t reply to my comment. Surely not? Don’t be silly, Sophia. Not Dad.

11.30pm

Dad phoned as I was about to have dinner. A nice surprise. Today was blessed with much parental attention. He loves it when I call him, but both he and Mum think I live such an amazing life that under no circumstances must it be interrupted by something as mundane as a phone call.

‘So, what are you having for dinner, Sophie love?’ he asked. It’s funny how, as a family, we find no phone call is complete without a rundown of recently consumed food, meals about to be eaten, or indeed the menu planned for the next meal. I’m sure that didn’t help my teenage puppy fat problem.

I told him I was making a Jamie aubergine bake and he said he won’t bother me then. I had to shout to stop him hanging up. Then he asked me about dessert, and I told him ice cream because I knew he’d like to hear that. Dad and his ice cream. It always makes me laugh when he listens patiently while a waiter tells him about all the exotic ice cream flavours available at a restaurant, and then he says, ‘Vanilla please.’ Every time.

He said he’d had toast and cheese for dinner, and I asked why Mum hadn’t cooked.

‘She did, but,’ he said then hesitated, ‘you may be aware, we’re not talking much, so I ate alone in the kitchen.’

It was worse than I thought. Things must be bad if he’s missing out on Mum’s cooking.

‘What’s the matter, Dad? Why aren’t you talking to Mum?’

‘I don’t want to involve you kids. I’ll handle it.’ Typical of Dad’s stiff upper lip attitude. I persisted but I knew from his tone he wasn’t going to tell me.

‘I’ll tell you one thing, though. I’ve joined a ballroom dancing club for the over-seventies. I’d forgotten how much I enjoy dancing. We’re rehearsing for a performance at the local care home. I’m doing a rumba with Consuela.’

Who the hell was Consuela?

‘She’s one of the women at the club. From Spain. She’s seventy-two and shoots from the hip when it comes to the cha-cha-cha,’ he said, sounding more cheerful.

I didn’t like it at all. He hasn’t been this excited since I took him to the Red Arrows show a couple of years ago.

‘Is Mum going dancing with you?’

‘Oh no, Sophie love. She’s far too busy with her international modelling career to come dancing with me.’

There it was. He was trying to console himself (or should that be Consuela himself?) with a Spanish temptress who’s jiggled her tassels at him. I’m sure there’s nothing to it, but Mum and Dad need to talk.

Wednesday, 24 July, 7.30pm

Phoned Sara to discuss the situation with Mum and Dad.

‘Hi sis. Have you time for a chat?’

‘Really, Sophe? It’s seven o’clock. I’m busy getting dinner ready,’ she said.

‘Sorry, I didn’t think.’

‘You never do, Sophe, do you? You think everyone is footloose and fancy free like you.’

‘I wanted to talk about Mum and Dad, not about my marital status.’

‘That’s a relief,’ she said with an impatient sigh, then screamed. ‘I can’t do this right now. The burgers are burning.’ She managed to evade me again, though burning burgers were a new excuse.

I texted her later and suggested a drink tomorrow and she agreed. That was something, I suppose. I hope she’s ready to talk. God knows I am. And why is SHE calling ME inconsiderate?

Thursday, 25 July, 6.30pm

Waiting for Sara to arrive. Just had a text from The Hot One, saying he’s leaving work and will see me later. I reminded him we were meeting tomorrow, and he sounded disappointed. How sweet that he was so desperate to see me he was wishing it to be today? I’m all warm inside. I hope Sara won’t be in a bad mood again tonight.

11.30pm

Sara marched in with a slit for a mouth, her jaw set hard and her knuckles white from gripping her bag. I hoped she was nice to her patients. I decided I would be easy-peasy-breezy and relaxed, whatever her attitude.

I bought a bottle of wine hoping she wouldn’t be in a rush to get home. Laurence could get his own dinner and feed the children for a change. He’s the one who had an affair, so shouldn’t he be making it up to her? I think he’d be OK with helping more around the house, but lately Sara likes to be a martyr and do everything herself. I suppose it’s her way of coping with the guilt.

‘Are you on a bender tonight then?’ she asked when she saw the bottle. I ignored that comment. I tried to make her laugh and reminded her of the first time I got her drunk on red wine when Mum and Dad had gone away to Norfolk to see Auntie Susan. Sara must have been about fifteen. We were dancing around to Irene Cara’s ‘Flashdance’ in the front room, and I decided it was time she was initiated into the red wine club.

‘I don’t remember the music, but I do remember feeling dizzy after the second glass,’ she said with a scowl. No matter how nice I was to her, she was prickly back.

‘You were going, “Sophe, Sophe, I can’t feel my legs. Sophe, why is the room spinning?” It was so funny.’ She was still glowering. I wanted to shake her by the shoulders.

‘Yes, then I spent the next hour draped over the loo being sick.’

Why couldn’t she just enjoy the memory with me? She had to make it sound like I’d done something terrible to her.

‘It wasn’t a great initiation, but we did have fun together when we were young, didn’t we?’ I asked.

‘Yeah, we did.’ Her pursed lips turned into a tiny reluctant smile.

I reminisced about how happy I was the day Mum and Dad brought her home from the hospital. Everyone thought I’d be jealous, but she was so cute with her dark curly hair, and at ten years old I could appreciate having a baby sister.

‘Anyway, what’s the important thing you wanted to discuss with me?’ she asked and looked at her watch. I poured her another glass of wine.

‘I’m worried about Mum and Dad. You know she did a swimwear shoot?’

‘Yes. Dad told me. What was she thinking? Getting her kit off at eighty years old? She should act her age and cover it up. And going out galivanting, leaving Dad on his own. No wonder he’s upset.’

‘I went to the shoot with her, and she was stunning and graceful. Stop being an age-fascist.’

‘I should have known you’d approve,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t join in and do a double act.’

‘And what would be wrong with that?’ She always did know how to pick at my insecurities. She knows I swing from being proud of being sixty to not wanting to mention my age at all. I know that’s contradictory, but I’m not claiming to be perfect.

‘An eighty-year-old and a sixty-year-old undressing for the camera? I bet only perverts will want to see those pictures.’

She hasn’t always been like this. We used to be close, but it’s been awful lately since she did what she did. She must still feel guilty about it, but she doesn’t know that I know, so why is she being horrible to me?

‘Anyone would think you were one hundred not fifty with that attitude. Have you not heard of the body positivity movement? Or have you been too busy cooking dinner to pay attention to what’s going on around the world?’

‘Don’t have a dig at me because you don’t have a husband, Sophia.’

‘Actually, I’m dating a lawyer and it’s going great.’

‘“Actually, I’m dating a lawyer”,’ she said. ‘Oh, just act your age,’ she spat out. She picked up her voluminous bag, put her mobile in, stood up and gave me her ‘I’m extremely disappointed in you’ look.

‘Where are you going? We need to discuss Mum and Dad.’

‘Why don’t you talk to Mum and tell her to forget the stupid modelling idea? Leave me out of it. I’m done here. I’m not going to listen to you lecture me about my marriage.’

She walked off and left me wondering how and why it all escalated. Why is she mad at me when I’ve done nothing wrong? She’s ten years younger than me but acts like she’s older. She treats me like I’m not a mature adult because I’m not married with a family, but I’m not defined by my marital status. I’ve been through a lot myself, but my experiences and challenges have been different from hers. I’ve had to deal with divorce, living my life without a partner’s support, being cheated on, and – the big gaping black hole in my life – accepting I’ll never have children. I love Sara but lately I don’t like her much. #HadEnoughOfJudginess

Friday, 26 July, 5.30pm

I hope it’ll work out with The Hot One. I have a good feeling about it. And about him. I’ve been dating for seven months (how did that woman on the radio find her husband in three months?). Yes, seven bloody months! And it’s been one disaster after another. Can I bear to carry on dating and hoping? It all seems like a lot of hard work for no return. But if this one doesn’t go anywhere, I don’t know if I’ll be happy with being single again. Will I want to go back to only looking for sex or not bothering to look at all? Now I’ve had a taste of what I could be missing, it does feel like my life is lacking something. I regret not trying harder to meet someone before. I’ve been happy, but now feel I could have been happier. And that makes me sad. I can’t bear the thought of a lonely old age.

But why am I getting sad? I have my hot date tonight. I’m going to cook a main course, so we can have sex for starter and dessert.

Saturday, 27 July, 11.30am

The Hot One lived up to his name. He’s just left and I’m staying in bed to savour our night of passion. I can’t stop grinning. We managed all of twenty minutes of chat – or should that be foreplay? – before we ended up in bed. We started out touching on the sofa, where my bra somehow came off before my dress, Joey Tribbiani style. We kissed softly at first then passionately. He had no middle-age droop trouble in the trouser department. Phew, what a relief. He was equally sexy naked as he was in his light blue jeans and Comme de Garcons T-shirt with a red heart logo. Was he trying to tell me something?

His body was slim and taut, and I wanted to touch all of it. When his largeness was revealed, I wanted to say, whoa, let’s talk about this. He was XL or possibly XXXL. But he was gentle and considerate, and we took our time until it worked. It helped that I found him so bloody attractive and had no trouble being ready for him. I was hungry and he was the buffet. I wanted a bit of everything and to go back for seconds.

After a while we stopped for dinner, then went back to bed and did it again. I could feel he was strong, so when instead of rolling over to change position, he stood up and took me with him, I thought he could probably take his arms away and I would still stay up. Like a Barbie mounted on a lollipop stick! I savoured touching his smooth chest, good enough to eat off – put that in your pipe and smoke it, Mr Delicious – his rock-hard abs, thighs that could crack a walnut, and the bountiful penis. In the morning, it was bliss to wake up next to him and caress those perfect sinewy shoulders and arched back. We made love again, and I felt calm and happy afterwards. I think there’s a real connection between us. Definitely physically, and hopefully a connection of the hearts soon. #Shagtastic #AmfallingForHim

P.S. I think his penis deserves a name of its own. I’ve christened it Junior.

Wow you are a sight to behold

My temperature has risen threefold

You are an object of desire

My body is singing like a choir

My skin totally tingles

You’re as yummy as a box of Pringles

Anticipating your sensual crush

Brings me out in a hot flush

You look as tasty as a chocolate Hobnob

Ooh you’ve made my vagina throb

Please can we touch again quite soon

Wow, you’re making me swoon

I want Junior to be mine, all mine

Oops my panties have fallen down

I had you as a starter, main and dessert

Now I am a culinary expert

5.30pm

Joy was on time and on cutting form today. Could she have been more misnamed? Firstly, she came into the bedroom before I’d had a chance to tidy up after last night’s acrobatics.

‘Oh, what you do in bed, Sophia? Such a mess for Joy.’

I was too happy to get annoyed and just smiled while she yanked off the sheets.

‘And what’s this?’ She pointed at a stain on the sheets as she gave me the evil eye. Oh God, was there nothing this woman would be too embarrassed to say? I blushed, and she tutted.

I escaped to the kitchen to make lunch. She came in five minutes later and put the sheets in the washing machine as she glared at me, then noticed the dirty dishes from last night.

‘Oh Sophia, did you cook? You know how to cook?’ she asked and did her best surprised expression.

‘Yes, I can cook.’

‘But why you use everything in kitchen? Such a mess for Joy.’

Such a diva.

Meeting Izzy for drinks tonight. Will have lots to tell her. Will she notice my awkward bow-legged walk courtesy of Junior?

11.30pm

I must have been glowing with pheromones tonight. I had three men chat me up, but I wasn’t interested. I resisted talking about The Hot One though. I didn’t want to drive Izzy mad. On the way home, I texted him and asked how his Saturday evening had gone. Then I threw caution to the wind.

Last night was lovely. Is it crazy to say I miss you?

You can say what you like.

I think life’s too short, and I don’t want to hold back on how I feel.

Do what feels right for you.

What about you? How do you feel?

Life’s too short.

But how do you feel?

It was fun last night.

WTF? What did that even mean? Is he saying he only wants to have fun? I told him before that I wanted more than that. A proper relationship. Wish I hadn’t texted him. I didn’t reply.

Sunday, 28 July, 10.30am

I woke up feeling deflated and doubting my feelings. I read the text again and he definitely hadn’t gushed back at me. Could I have got it all wrong? Didn’t he feel the connection I felt the other night? HeLikesMe.com or HeLikesMeNot.com

11.30am

He called to ask if I was OK as I hadn’t replied. I told him I didn’t appreciate his text. He said he wants to talk and explain his situation. Whatever that means. I feel like curling up in bed for the rest of the day. #SodYou

11.30pm

Leila called earlier to invite me for dinner next Saturday. She said it was ages since I’d been round to them, and we should have a proper catch-up. If I’m honest, I’ve been avoiding going to her house because I don’t want to see Jude. And I feel so disloyal for not telling her what her husband’s been up to and that he’s a lying, unfaithful, devious, and manipulative dick of a man. If I was married, would I want to know if my husband had been unfaithful? I’d like to think yes. But then I also remember a past boyfriend turning up at my house one night with what were clearly love bites on his neck. He persuaded me that the marks were a reaction to the seafood he’d eaten for lunch. Now I can admit to myself that I chose to accept his explanation, implausible as it was, because I didn’t want to face the truth. Would Leila want to face Jude’s deceit?

Monday, 29 July, 11.30pm

Mum texted asking for my aubergine bake recipe. Said Dad had mentioned it. She’d put three aubergine emojis in her text.

At least they’re talking.

Tuesday, 30 July, 11.30pm

Not heard from The Hot One yet. Went for a drink with Izzy and told her what had been going on.

‘Do you remember Francis, who I dated for a while?’ she asked.

‘Yes, the knob who messed you around right from the beginning.’

‘And do you remember you wondered why we go blind as soon as we get the hots for someone?’

She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head. She might as well have said, I rest my case. Shit. Is that me now? Completely blind and being messed around? Right from the beginning? Am I ignoring the red flags? I don’t want to repeat the mistakes of the past. I need to think.

Wednesday, 31 July, 11.30pm

He wants to meet up on Friday. Does he want to have a ‘talk’? What did he mean by his ‘situation’? He’s definitely divorced. I know that from Kai. So what could it be?