Chapter 5
5
NADIA
I m so sorry. I hate seeing people sad, especially kind people, and from what I ve seen of him this evening Tom is very kind. Not just in being polite and charming to us all over our unexpected dinner, but little things, like he was very quick to turn the conversation whenever Carole seemed miserable again, and he was much more tolerant than a lot of people would be to a server when she spilt definitely-oily-and-staining tomato sauce on his quite-new-and-not-cheap-looking leather shoes. So, yes, properly kind, I think.
He s also clearly pretty miserable. He s tall and solid and looks like he s mid-thirties, and he s one of those just-the-right-side-of-handsome-but-not-too-handsome people who are often very confident socially (and he was indeed unselfconscious and chatty-but-not-too-chatty when we all met) but right now he looks like a little boy who s had his last Haribo snaffled by an adult he trusted, just as he was popping it into his mouth. Bewildered, heading towards very hurt.
Yeah, no. He shakes his head. It is what it is. Not meant to be, I guess. Although…
I wait. I feel as though he has thoughts he s going to have to work through. I certainly would in his position.
Did that seem weird to you? Her wording? he asks.
A little, I say cautiously, but I don t actually know her of course.
Yeah. He looks back at his phone and rereads the messages, before looking up and staring ahead of him with the hurt-following-Haribo-theft look on his face again.
I feel he shouldn t be alone now, so I don t want to leave him. Although maybe he has a housemate who he s close to who he d like to talk to.
Do you live alone? I ask.
Yes? His voice is inflected as though it s an odd question.
I just… I m choosing my words carefully because I don t want to imply that things are so bad that he shouldn t be alone, but, also, surely he d be better off with someone to talk to. I thought you might want to talk things through more. Let s go and get a drink?
Tom nods. Yeah, actually, that would be great. Thank you. If you re sure you aren t in a rush to get home.
No, all good, but shall we go now? It s been colder than I expected this evening, since the rain started, and this platform is a bit of a wind tunnel, and I d love to be standing somewhere warmer. Actually, I d love to be sitting somewhere warmer. I check my watch. Oh. The pubs will all be closed. A wine bar? I look at his tight smile and miserable eyes and try to think of a quiet, non-party-like wine bar in the vicinity, and fail. Or a coffee at mine? My flat s a seven-and-a-half-minute brisk walk away.
Tom manages a little laugh. Not to be too precise. He hesitates. Are you sure? It s quite late already and I m not at my best.
I nod. Absolutely. Really. I d hate to think of you going home and being miserable by yourself.
Yes, please, then. Thank you.
And just like that, he s coming back to my flat with me for a coffee, and it feels completely natural because somehow this evening I genuinely feel as though I made four new proper friends, and of those friends Tom is the closest in age to me.
I m not even that horrified about what I ve just remembered is the big tip I left my living room in, because good friends do not judge you on temporary messiness. Although I should probably warn him.
As we walk along the platform, I say, I would like to mention that I was in a very big rush when I went out and as you know I was on my way to a blind date and I wanted to look my best, so I might have the entire contents of my wardrobe strewn across the flat.
Tom laughs and says, Noted.
We barely speak once we emerge from the station, because the rain s so heavy now that it drowns out all other sounds, even the road traffic; we just concentrate on hurrying to my flat.
We go at my fastest pace (a jog/speed-walk combination that Tom keeps up with effortlessly, although, to be fair to me, his legs are a lot longer than mine, plus I m in my wedges) and smash my usual seven and a half minutes.
When we get there, we burst through the main door into the building and stand in the hall dripping.
I m finding it difficult not to snigger, even though it isn t very sensitive to Tom s misery, because the way raindrops are making their way down his ears and falling from his lobes is very comical.
I m obviously looking ridiculous too, because, despite Lola, Tom s actually looking as though his own lips are twitching.
We just stand there dripping for a few moments, before I realise that I should do something about the water and say, Okay, my flat s on the first floor, and head for the stairs.
When we get inside my front door, which opens straight into my open-plan kitchen-living room, I leave my sodden shoes on the doormat (I really hope they re going to recover from the water because I love them) and Tom stands on the mat next to them, trying to avoid dripping onto the floor. I m grateful for that, because I m very protective of my floorboards; my friend Gina and I lovingly (and incredibly unenjoyably) sanded them with a rented machine last year when I moved in, and then varnished them and nearly asphyxiated ourselves, and I m not at all keen (and neither is Gina) to have to redo them.
A couple of minutes later, I m in a dry top and jeans, and Tom s wearing an old T-shirt of my brother s that I found at the back of my wardrobe, we ve both towel-dried our hair and I have the kettle on.
I turn round from getting mugs out of a cupboard and catch Tom checking his phone again.
Anything else? I ask.
He shakes his head mutely, and then a few seconds later says, I should have asked her why she didn t show up this evening.
You could still ask?
He shakes his head again. I feel like that could sound accusatory. If we re going to speak again, I don t feel like I can begin with that kind of question.
Yep, you re right. I pause and sip my still-too-hot coffee, ow. I m so, so sorry again that this has happened. I don t think you should be annoyed with yourself for not having asked that question, though; she might not have replied to it, because she could have volunteered the information, and it s kind of obvious that a lot of people in your position would want to know, and maybe she would have volunteered it if she was happy to say?
True. He takes the steaming mug of coffee I hold out for him and wraps his hands around it. Thank you. That s good. Funny how cold you can get in the rain, even on a warmish evening.
Yes, like your actual bones feel damp.
Exactly. It s refreshing, though, after the heat we ve had. Looking on the bright side. He makes a face (which, to my admiration, does nothing to diminish his handsomeness; I m pretty sure most people would look like gargoyles if they did that) and then continues. I think I m going to have to look on the bright side about Lola.
You know what. There will be a bright side. I m trying hard to think of genuine positives. Maybe now wasn t exactly the right time. Maybe it will happen – I mean, I m sure there s every chance it will – but just today, this week, this month, maybe this year is wrong. And when it does happen it will be perfect. And — I m warming up now; I m sure I can think of loads of cheering-up things to say —as you pointed out to me, no-one should need to be in a relationship.
I did say that, he agrees. Was I talking total crap, though, just to cheer you up?
Er what? I frown at him. Were you?
I don t know. He does a face-scrunch sorry . I think I might have been.
Yep, he totally was, I realise. Hmm. Yes. I ve been carried along for the past hour or so on a tide of Tom s convincing bullshit about not wanting a partner, but, actually, I do want someone. This is not about me, though. And also, wanting is not needing.
No, I state. We do not need partners. No-one does. You would like a partner. So would I. You re deeply disappointed this evening because you thought you were going to reconnect with a woman you fell in love with at first sight ten years ago and have always believed was the one for you. And I m, well, just generally disappointed in love. But we definitely do not actually need partners. I m warming to my theme. Think about all the amazing, happy , successful single people there are. Elderly and middle-aged ones, not just young ones. They have other meaningful relationships. I mean, what s so different about a romantic relationship from a non-romantic friendship?
Sex, Tom points out.
That s just a detail, I tell him. Sex is not the be-all and end-all. I mean, obviously good sex is amazing, but, you know, maybe the way forward is meaningless hook-ups to satisfy the sex thing and then great, meaningful, deeply satisfying non-romantic friendships.
Really?
Absolutely, I lie. I personally do not like meaningless hook-ups. I ve found that out the hard way and have established that I would much rather have no sex. Although I do like sex, a lot, in the right context.
You re looking wistful; you re totally lying.
Yes, okay, fine, I was lying a bit , because meaningless hook-ups are not actually for me. But also, I wasn t. Lots of people do like them. And also, most people – most people I know, anyway – go through dry phases. And they are totally, completely fine with that, usually. Like the vast majority of people would surely rather be single than with the wrong person. And if you re single and you don t like meaningless hook-ups, you re going to be sex-free. I want to wind this strand of conversation up now, because Gina keeps popping into my head; she s very vocally into sex toys for her own personal use, no need for a partner, and I don t enjoy her monologues on the topic, and I don t want to start a similar conversation now. I don t need more than one friend in my life who likes to have long (or indeed any) discussions about masturbation. Anyway, basically, good sex is obviously a lovely added extra, but equally obviously your average person can perfectly happily live without it.
True, Tom concedes.
I press my advantage. So, basically, what we re saying— I don t think this is too much of a stretch —is that the main benefit of a good romantic relationship is in fact emotional. And you can get emotional support from friends. And you can have fun with friends. And if you need a plus-one for events you can take a friend. I close my eyes for a moment remembering the time I plus-oned Gina to my grandmother s eighty-fifth birthday party.
Thinking about a bad plus-one experience?
Just my friend Gina at a family barbecue. She ended up talking about masturbation with my uncle .
Tom s eyes widen. Wow.
Yeah.
We sit in silence for a couple of beats before I remember that I m supposed to be helping him achieve a happier state of mind.
You re going to be fine, I continue. Your friends will help you. We , your new Waterloo friends, will help you.
It s just occurred to me – kind of lucidly, as opposed to being at the back of my mind – that Tom does not in fact know Lola at all really; they messaged after they first met, but in person he s spent precisely one two-hour-long evening with her, ever, and that was ten years ago. Who knows whether in practice they would actually like each other now as friends? Obviously they might be in lust with each other but I know from bitter experience (I have so much bitter dating experience) that there s only so far mutual lust will carry you in a relationship.
I open my mouth to point out that for all he knows she s an axe murderer or a bigamist or just really not very nice or not someone ten-years-older Tom-of-today gets on with that well, and then close it again. He is clearly not ready to hear that yet; what was I thinking?
Also, everyone knows that it s a very bad idea for friends to criticise each other s partners or exes unless they are definitely, completely, no-going-back exes forever. It s terrible for a friendship when Friend A has heavily criticised Friend B s ex when the split turns out only to have been temporary. (Yep, also bitter experience – with my friend Samrita and her now husband – we did get over it but it took a while.)
So I go in a different conversational direction.
I think we need to amend our resolutions. I stand up and go over to my desk in the corner of the room and return with a brand-new notebook and a pen (I love stationery).
We re going to write them down?
Can it hurt?
Very fair point; it can t. Tom takes a big slurp of coffee.
Exactly. And it s scientifically proven that if you write stuff down you re more likely to stick to it.
Really? He raises one eyebrow.
Definitely. And even more so if you write it with someone, so you re accountable to each other.
Yes, now that definitely is true.
Exactly. Okay. So. I open the book and twiddle the pen while I think. Where did we get to?
You re going to stop trying to find love; you re just going to let it creep up on you so if it happens it happens, and if it doesn t, all good? So you re going to stop going on dating apps full stop, and you won t automatically say yes to blind dates but you also won t be entirely closed-minded to them, I think you said? But basically no dating, for at least six months.
Yes. All correct. My dating detox. I note all of that down, sorting it into bullet points. Okay, now you.
Oh. Tom s resolution was to find Lola, check she s okay and tell her he loves her. But since then we ve had the no-reply to his I-love-you.
Erm. I feel like it would be better if I wait for him to suggest things because my mind is completely good-idea-free.
Yes. Me. Well. Yeah. I d like to find Lola somehow, see her in person, tell her in person that I love her and see what happens.
I nod. I m feeling very uneasy on his behalf because it could obviously all end horribly. But I can see that he needs to do this. Everyone needs closure sometimes and ten years is an unusually long time.
Okay. I click my pen on and start writing. There. Done.
Tom nods.
I look at the page. Actually, not really done.
We aren t?
No. I ve just written what we want to achieve, but not how we re going to achieve it. We need a way forward. Something more concrete than just let things happen but not for six months in my case and look for Lola to check she s okay and say I love you .
Kind of difficult to make fully concrete plans sometimes, though?
Okay. I twiddle the pen again. Maybe that isn t exactly what I mean. Maybe it s that I don t like what I ve written for either of us. It isn t positive enough. Like, I feel we need to be taking some kind of affirmative action. Okay, yours is positive action. But as we said before, it shouldn t be the be-all and end-all.
So you re saying…? Tom looks a bit confused.
That we need to resolve to prove to ourselves that neither of us needs a partner. As in, we do not need romance, because we have good friends. I write that down.
That s still very wishy-washy, though. Shouldn t it be something more specific?
I smile at Tom, pleased that he s finally entering properly into this.
You re right. Okay. Here we go. I click the pen on again with a flourish. Basically, what do we need from a romantic partner? Other than sex. For everything else, we re going to prove to ourselves that we re totally fine – more than totally fine – with our platonic friends.
Fun, emotional support, a plus-one, Tom reels off.
I write them all down.
So have we made a plan? Tom asks.
Yes. We re going to do everything we just said. I close the notebook with a satisfying snap.
How are we going to do it, though?
It ll come to us, I say airily.
Good, then, Tom says.
I don t like your tone. I frown at him. You sound doubtful. Hmm. I reopen the notebook and look at what I ve written.
And no. These are not the kind of resolutions that should be written down. This is not a go for a 3k run every Sunday and Wednesday, eat max one extra-large bag of Tyrrell s crinkly ready-salted once a fortnight and only one chocolate bar a week reminder that I wouldn t really mind anyone seeing. This reads like an article in a teenage magazine from pre TikTok days and I d be mortified for pretty much anyone to see it.
I m mortified that Tom s seen it, and he s part of it.
Yeah, no. We don t need to have this written down. We just need to agree it and hold each other accountable. I pull the page from its ring-spine and scrunch it into a small ball before taking it over to my recycling bin.
Agreed, Tom says as I close the bin. For sanity we both need a plan and we need next steps but, yeah, not in writing.
Thinking about next steps, do you know Lola s surname? I ask delicately as I sit back down.
Well, would you believe it, it s Smith. It would be so much easier if it were a more unusual name. And yes, sadly I ve googled and there are quite a few Lola Smiths including a very talented young footballer, it seems, but I couldn t find her at all. I m guessing she doesn t do social media and isn t on LinkedIn.
I wonder how often it truly isn t possible to find someone online. Surely not that often. Although if you only have a name to go by and there s no description of them on their work website and they don t do social media, maybe it isn t surprising. Also, maybe Tom doesn t have full details.
It could be that Lola s short for something, I suggest. If it s an abbreviation it might make it even harder to find her. I finish the last of my coffee and look at Tom s already-empty mug. Another one? I stand up as he nods a yes please .
We end up googling and social media searching all sorts of names including variations on and longer versions of Lola all the way through our second cups of coffee.
We get nowhere.
I m so sorry, I tell Tom as he places his empty cup down. Another one?
You sure I m not outstaying my welcome? He looks over at where my kitchen clock s showing that it s heading towards 1a.m.
Absolutely. I d feel terrible if he went home looking as miserable as he does right now. We need to talk about something more positive than fruitless online searches for Lola.
Once I ve placed refilled, steaming mugs on the table, I sit back down and say, You know, from my perspective anyway, there are so many good reasons to be single. As in, there are active upsides to not having a partner.
Yes, there definitely are. I mean, I m single now, and until Lola got in touch I was completely happy about it.
Exactly. I m going to get the conversation away from Lola and onto less mournful topics if it kills me. You can spread out across the whole bed. I ignore an annoying little thought that I like having a cuddle in bed with the right person. That whole limbs-tangled-in-the-morning thing is lovely. On a work night in particular, you just want a really good night s sleep.
True. And you can get up and go to bed when you want to. And eat what you want when you want. Exercise as much or as little as you like.
Hooray, we re finally off the Lola topic.
Watch what you want on TV, I add.
The list could go on, Tom says.
Exactly.
She s never going to reply, is she? he asks as I m trying to think of another positive.
Oh. Okay. Yep, obviously it s going to take more than a silly list of fake positives about being single to distract him. Understandably.
I focus on his question. I m not sure. My gut says no , but does he want to hear that?
I don t think she is. He checks his phone again and then turns it face down. Distract me. Tell me what you re doing tomorrow.
Erm. Well. Due to his no-show, I won t be thinking about the terrible date I had tonight with Dougie, which is a plus. I m going to get up late and go for brunch and then a walk with my old schoolfriend Holly who lives round the corner and then I m going to my parents for dinner where my mother will light-heartedly except also very seriously grill me about my love life and I will grit my teeth and think how mortified she would be if she knew that I d been stood up last night. Oh. Whoops . That wasn t very cheery. And I will be pleased that I m single, I add carefully.
Tom laughs. A lot.
What? I pat my face. Do I have food hanging off it or something?
Sorry. He is literally holding his sides.
I start to laugh too, entirely because Tom is laughing.
Eventually we both stop.
Sorry, he says again. It was just suddenly so funny the way you ve been trying so hard to convince me that honestly it s fine , in fact better than fine, it s desirable to be stood up by the woman you ve thought about for years and years because actually who in their right minds wants romance, and then the first thing you said about your actual life was basically that your mother is going to nag you about not having a partner and you aren t going to enjoy it.
Well. I can t believe that I ve been laughing just because you were laughing when the premise of your amusement was actually wrong. I pick up my pen from where it s still sitting on top of my notebook and point it at him triumphantly. It is not that I want a partner, it s that I don t enjoy my mother wanting me to have a partner. That is an entirely different thing. All I need is for my mother to think I m with someone and I m sorted. And then in a few years time for her to think I have children and again I ll be sorted.
Well, that shouldn t be a problem. You just need to get yourself a fake partner and fake kids.
Oh yes, easy. If I m honest… It s like all the caffeine I ve had this evening is acting like a truth drug on me; I really don t usually confide this much in people. Sometimes I wonder whether I should ask Gina to be my fake girlfriend. But then I think that would be really complicated because my mum s main stated reason for wanting to me to have a partner is that she d like to be a grandmother so then I d either have to lie about having a third-party male friend sperm donor, or I d have to research fertility treatment, and then I d have to tell proper lies rather than vaguely saying I was planning to try in due course.
Wow. Tom s tone is awed. You ve actually thought seriously about this, haven t you?
Nope, not at all, I lie.
Why not ask a male friend?
I don t have any single male friends I know well enough. My guy friends from uni and work are all partnered up now. When I think about it, the whole plus-one thing is one of the biggest reasons I ve been on so many first dates. It would make life so much easier to have someone to take to weddings, family barbecues, work things where you re going to see an ex…
Yes, tell me about it. I ve been single for nine months now and that is definitely one of the worst things. Especially once you hit thirty-five, as I did in April. You should hear my mother on the subject of biological clocks – in her words they tick for men too, not just women.
We sit for a moment in silence, kind of mutually eye-rolling at the shitness of being nagged about singledom, and then Tom suddenly sits up straight.
I have an idea, he almost yells. We can plus-one each other . Say we re in the early stages of a relationship, nothing serious, so no-one s asking us when-are-the-babies-coming questions. It doesn t seem like we have any friends in common, so no-one will be able to catch us out.
Oh my God, I say, awed. You re a genius .
I know. He does a preening pout and a shoulder waggle, which makes me laugh. So… let s do it? He sticks his hand out and I shake it with no hesitation.
And there we go. We re fake-plus-one partners. Which I think is the best dating decision I ve made for years.