His 'n' Hers by Mike Gayle Page A

it you know what it is straight away.’ I laugh self-consciously in an effort to change the mood. ‘Come on, then. I’ve confessed everything. So, what about you? How many times have you said, “I love you”?’
    ‘None.’
    ‘None at all?’
    ‘A big fat zero.’
    ‘I don’t understand. How could you have reached the age of twenty-three and not told a girl you loved her?’
    ‘I’ve never really been into the idea of saying, “I love you”,’ says Jim. ‘I mean, before the age of twenty-three there aren’t a great many occasions that a bloke needs to say those words.’
    ‘How can you say that?’ I ask incredulously.
    ‘But it’s true.’
    ‘But you’d had girlfriends before me. And you never told them you loved them?’
    ‘I’ll concede that I quite liked a lot of them but none of them inspired in me the desire I always imagined you needed within you to say those three little words.’
    ‘None of them?’
    ‘None of them.’
    ‘Did you ever even come close?’
    ‘Not really. I had girls say they were in love with me, though.’
    ‘And what did you do when they said that?’
    ‘I said, “Cheers.”’
    I look at Jim, horrified. ‘Tell me you’re joking.’
    ‘With the gift of hindsight I can see now that it wasn’t the best thing to say but I’m afraid I did actually say it. I thought I was being polite.’
    ‘So let me get this straight. They’d say, “Jim, I think I’m falling in love with you,” and you’d reply, “Cheers, mate”?’
    ‘I didn’t call them “mate”, that would’ve been daft. But, yeah, that was the short and tall of it.’
    ‘You really must have been a charmer. The only good thing to come out of what you’ve said is to reassure me that I wasn’t the only girl in the world to have said, “I love you,” only to get the most ignorant of responses.’
    ‘The funny thing,’ says Jim, ‘is that the less you say those words the more important they become to you.’
    ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
    ‘Well, look, it’s like this. It’s not like I don’t believe in love. I do. It’s just that I think I have a greater reverence for it than those people who just bandy it about in an everyday kind of way.’
    ‘You mean like me?’ I joke.
    ‘Exactly. You see, for me the words “I love you” are like one of those big red fire-alarm buttons behind glass that say, “Smash in case of emergency” – and in any case, if it isn’t an emergency, by which I mean the real thing, I’m not going to smash the glass.’
    ‘I can see how that could make sense to you.’
    ‘But what can I say? If I don’t feel it, I’m not going to say it just to make someone feel better.’
    ‘No,’ I say, sarcastically. ‘That would be too awful.’
    ‘Anyway,’ continues Jim carefully, ‘this brings me to my point.’
    ‘Which is?’
    ‘Well, remember how I asked you not to infer anything by this conversation?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Well, having given it a lot of thought I think you should feel free to infer what you like.’
    ‘But you told me not to.’
    ‘Well, now I’m telling you that you can.’
    ‘Why? You spent ages telling me not to read anything into what you were saying.’
    ‘Look,’ he says, ‘what I’m trying to tell you is that I think it’s time for me to smash the glass.’
    ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
    Jim laughs. ‘I know what you’re doing. Smithy.’
    ‘Do you?’
    ‘You’re trying to make me say it.’
    ‘Am I?’
    ‘Yes, you are.’
    ‘So, why don’t you say it?’
    ‘Okay, I will—’
    ‘Ready when you are.’ I concentrate all my psychic energy on him willing him to say it.
    Say it.
    Out comes the first word.
    Say it.
    Out comes the second word.
    Say it.
    And then out comes the third word.
    That’s it. He said it. ‘I love you.’ There’s no mistaking it. There’s no way he can take it back.
    I watch Jim as he studies my face for a reaction. I give him my best poker