A Lot to Unpack

Chapter 10

I’m on my third trip for Matcher – this time travelling about as far as you can from the UK – and I’m still simply ‘on call’ waiting for something to do.

To be honest with you, I’m sort of used to it now.

I’d probably be disappointed if things changed.

I’m being paid to go on holiday and use dating apps.

Maybe that’s it, perhaps that really is just the job, so I’m not complaining, I’m having a nice time… in Sydney!

Yep, I’m in Australia, and I’m loving it.

It’s a little bit strange today though, because it’s actually my birthday, and here I am, spending it alone on the other side of the world to everyone I care about, but with my job position being…

interesting, shall we say, I didn’t dare turn down what is so far only my third assignment. I’m making the best of it though.

Breakfast at the hotel today was something else.

I’m not usually one to rave about eggs – I’ve been known to get the egg ick – but these were poached to actual perfection, perched neatly on thick slices of sourdough that had been grilled, not toasted.

That’s an unnecessarily fancy step, surely, to grill your bread, but I’m here for it.

The seasoned avocado that finished it off just sealed the deal.

Easily a contender for my top five hotel breakfasts of all time – well, now that I’m staying in lots of hotels, I’m making a list (although this is only the third one so far, so it’s not hard to get into the top five at present).

I’m having such a lovely time not working, seeing the sights, exploring everything the city and the surrounding area has to offer.

I’m somehow doing my dream job, whatever it is, so in a roundabout way, Ben did me a favour, because I never would have left my old job were I not leaving him too.

Sure, there were easier, less embarrassing ways to get here, but I’m at my destination now – so why stress over the turbulence?

It’s been such a busy few days and I’m positively knackered – mainly because everything I have done has involved so, so much walking.

I have hiked around the Blue Mountains National Park, which was so beautiful, but to me felt more like a climb than a hike.

I’ve strolled around Sydney Harbour, taking in the sights of the Opera House, and the bridge – which I also walked up, which again also felt more like a climb than a walk, but that might be because they strap you into a harness and you walk up high, across the metalwork.

I was nervous, at first, especially doing it alone, but being alone is something I’m starting to get used to.

I shouldn’t miss out on things just because I’m single, right?

That said…

Today, in an attempt to feel like I’m at least doing some work, I have been swiping and chatting on Matcher, and there’s one guy I’ve been talking to for a few days – Liam – who seems nice and normal so we agreed to meet up for a stroll on Bondi Beach.

Yep, more walking, but we’re having a lovely time so far.

We’re taking it slow (in every sense) and chatting as we go.

It’s December, so it’s summer here, which was lovely but surreal to touch down to, after leaving the chilly weather back home. It’s positively hot – and so is Liam.

I know what you’re thinking: did I swipe right on him because he looks exactly as you’d expect a Bondi Aussie to look? Absolutely. Is his accent driving me wild? It certainly is.

Liam is a lifeguard, and while he may be wearing a vest on his top half now, most of his pictures were of him in his work uniform – shorts. Nothing but shorts. So I know there’s a toned swimmer’s body lurking underneath that top.

‘I’m much happier walking along the beach than I am going in the sea,’ I tell him.

‘If everyone thought that, I’d be out of a job,’ he jokes. ‘Fancy grabbing some food?’

‘I’d love to,’ I reply. ‘What do you recommend?’

‘Fish and chips,’ he suggests.

I laugh to myself. I’ve come all this way – travelling about as far as I can from the UK – and I’m going to have fish and chips for my lunch.

‘Sounds great,’ I reply.

To be fair, the fish and chips here are not at all like they are back home. They have so many different types of fish on offer – they even do lobster – and it’s in breadcrumbs, not batter, which is a nice change – so long as the UK authorities don’t take my passport off me for saying so.

‘It’s my birthday today,’ I tell him, realising I haven’t yet mentioned it. ‘I’m pretty sure, anyway. I forget what the time difference is, so maybe it’s not technically my birthday back home, but it’s my Aussie birthday.’

‘What?’ Liam blurts. ‘Happy birthday!’

‘Thanks,’ I reply.

‘So, you’re alone in Sydney for your birthday?’ he checks. ‘Wait, isn’t it your thirtieth birthday then?’

‘No, I’m turning thirty-one today,’ I reply.

‘I was gonna say, my mum would’ve been mad as a cut snake if I’d spent my big 3-0 on the other side of the world,’ he tells me, popping a frankly massive chip in his mouth.

I have been messaging with my mum, and I told her I would call her later tonight, for a proper chat.

The plan is that, when I’m home, we’ll have a big party – probably while I’m there for Christmas, but after Hannah’s wedding, so she doesn’t think I’m only doing it to steal her thunder.

It’s not like it’s my ‘big’ birthday, is it?

I’ve noticed Liam talks about his mum a lot. I don’t know how recently she passed away, but you can tell she’s on his mind. It’s sweet.

‘I don’t know, it’s kind of cool, being here,’ I tell him. ‘And, to be honest with you, I didn’t do anything special for my thirtieth anyway, so I don’t think it would have been any different.’

I remember, at the time, Ben saying thirty wasn’t really a milestone.

That after twenty-one there was nothing to be proud of by simply ageing.

He said that at that point it stops feeling like counting up, and it starts feeling like counting down.

I remember my blood running cold when he said it, because I don’t feel old, but he made me feel like we were on borrowed time, that our days were numbered.

I suppose, when you think about it, when you view life as that short, it makes sense to live life like there are no consequences for your actions.

I disagreed with pretty much everything he had to say on the matter (which should have made me realise we were completely incompatible) because I think ageing is a privilege.

Looking back, I can’t remember what we did agree on.

We certainly didn’t agree on whether or not we should show our genitals to other people, I know that much.

I wonder if he’ll do that to his next girlfriend, if he’ll sneak around behind her back, or if that was just something special he did to ruin my life.

Actually, you know what, I’m going to give myself my birthday off from thinking about any of that.

Ben isn’t welcome in my thoughts today, even if I am slagging him off.

‘My mum threw me a surprise party, at a restaurant in town, it was great,’ he tells me, snapping me out of my thoughts.

‘She didn’t get on with my ex-girlfriend, so it meant a lot to me, that they planned the party together.

But, hey, she was right about her. She always told me, when she thought she saw something that didn’t seem right with my ex – her intuition was spot on, but that wasn’t anything new.

I remember, even when I was a kid, she would tell me that you could tell a lot about a person from their hands. ’

Liam takes my hands in his, turning them, looking them over.

‘I think you’d pass the test,’ he says with a smile.

‘That’s really nice,’ I tell him, smiling back at him. ‘When did you lose her?’

Liam raises an eyebrow.

‘How do you mean?’ he asks.

‘When did she pass away?’ I say more clearly.

‘Liberty, she’s not dead,’ he says, sounding almost offended. ‘What made you think she was dead?’

Erm, the fact that you talk about her all the time, in a way that would be sweet if she had passed, and you were missing her, but now that I know she’s still alive it seems kind of creepy.

‘Oh, sorry, I must have misunderstood you,’ I reply.

I give my head a little wiggle, the alarm bells going off in my ears like tinnitus that won’t quit.

I just need to ignore it, because I’m doing it again, I’m being overly critical.

Oh, what’s Liam’s big crime, loving his mum too much?

Come on. I’m being ridiculous. He’s a great guy, he’s fun, he’s gorgeous, we’re having a lovely time together, it’s only a holiday romance at best, and it’s my birthday.

Even my ‘ick’ alarm should take my birthday off.

Plus, in a few days, I’ll be safely back home, on the other side of the world, and I’ll never see him again.

That’s what I’m focusing on, while I’m here, because it takes the pressure off.

It’s not a big deal if I mess up. I get to go home after.

All I need to do is enjoy myself and not worry about the details. How hard can that be?

‘Ah, that’s okay,’ he replies, batting his hand. ‘So, it’s your birthday, how are we celebrating?’

I glance down at my food, then back up at him.

‘Nah, this is lunch, we should go out for dinner,’ he suggests.

‘Oh, okay, I’d love that,’ I reply.

‘We could go out in Sydney, just give me a couple of hours, I can organise something special,’ he tells me.

I smile, relaxing again.

‘Don’t go to any trouble,’ I insist. ‘I thought I’d be spending it alone, so doing anything is a step up from that.’

‘You deserve to do something special,’ he says, taking my hand again, squeezing it.

It is very sweet, when he holds my hand, but it is making it harder for me to eat, and this food is delicious.

‘Aw, thanks,’ I reply, picking up my can of Coke with my left hand so that I can have a drink.

‘It’s just my luck, that I meet a girl so perfect, but she’s from the other side of the world, and she’s going home soon,’ he says. ‘You know what though, tell me if you feel it too, but I reckon we could make it work.’

I cough and splutter, choking on my drink.

‘Sorry, it went down the wrong way,’ I say as I catch my breath. ‘You were saying what, sorry? Making what work?’

‘Me and you, doing the long-distance thing,’ he replies.

For a second I stare at him. He has to be kidding.

‘I know, it will be hard, but I think it’s worth it. Let’s see where this goes,’ he suggests with a level of enthusiasm that is frankly alarming.

I thought Australia, the actual other side of the world, would be somewhere I could meet someone, have a nice time with them, see how it goes, and then head home as free and single as I arrived.

Sort of like a test. I thought this because the only way I could meet a man who lived further away would be if I got a booty call from someone aboard the International fucking Space Station (yes, I did google ISS right after my date with Woody, and now what he said makes a lot of sense).

I feel so cheated. Seriously, I’ve come all this way, thinking I could relax, have a commitment-free time, enjoy myself – and yet here we go again. The alarm is sounding, and every reflex I have is telling me to run from this man who is clearly crazy – or to use his own words: mad as a cut snake.

I didn’t want to spend my birthday dwelling on why I can’t seem to pull the trigger on moving on. I – ironically – come on these trips so that I don’t have to unpack anything. Ugh, and now here we are.

Obviously, I shouldn’t go to dinner with this man.

His intense relationship with his mum seems ever more crackers, now that I’ve seen how quickly he’s trying to get serious with me.

Honestly, if you can’t rely on a beach lifeguard to be the kind of guy to shag his way through every tourist he meets, then what has the world come to?

‘I’ll just check, make sure my boss doesn’t want me to do anything this evening,’ I tell him, grabbing my phone, doubtful that there will be anything there, but certain I’m going to lie that there is.

‘Only a monster would make you work on your birthday,’ he points out.

Then a monster is what I’ll make out like she is, because there is no way I’m spending the evening with this guy.

Oh my God, I don’t believe it, there’s an email from Paige, saying I’m needed at a dinner this evening, with an attachment including the details. I have work – actual work to do – and I’m not disappointed at all, because this gets me off the hook.

‘Oh, no, I do have to work tonight,’ I tell him – rather conveniently, but it’s true – but I don’t sound as disappointed as I had intended.

He narrows his eyes in disbelief.

‘Really?’ he replies.

‘Yeah, honestly, look, here’s the email,’ I tell him, showing him my phone, sounding like I can’t quite believe my luck.

Poor Liam. I feel bad now, but it never would have worked.

If he’s going to entertain a future with anyone then he should pick someone who is a) geographically accessible, because the UK and Australia are about as far apart as you can get and b) someone emotionally available, because I so clearly am not.

Whether I’m doing it on purpose or not, things just never seem to go right. My dates are like Groundhog Day. Sooner or later I’m icked-out and I’m running for the hills (or my flight home) – there are always red flags or, worse, beige ones, and I can’t see beyond them.

Is it always going to be like this? Me going on dates, wondering what’s going to be wrong with whoever I’m seeing?

What big fat flaw or itty-bitty ick is going to be the thing that sees me retreating?

I feel like I’ll always find something, even if things are going well, some little thing to obsess over, to call the whole thing off.

Maybe I’m broken, but I can’t worry about that now.

I have a job to do.