topic of conversation was my
getting laid. I was hurt.
“My sex life is private, and it’s not for you to discuss!” I was whisper-shouting.
“Look, it wasn’t planned. It’s just that Richard knows this solicitor — he’s really nice and he’s been single for over a year and …”
I stopped listening. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe that she thought it was OK to be having this conversation
with me, here in this stupid packed coffee shop.
“So, you see, that’s how the conversation started and Clo and I really feel it’s time to move on.”
I had missed the middle bit. Shit, they were talking about me behind my back and that was enough. I couldn’t believe that Clo and Anne were discussing my sex life
with Sean and Richard. It was humiliating.
“Well, actually Sean was pretty quiet,” she admitted. “He does spend a lot of time in your place. Is there something we should know?”
“Nothing’s going on between Sean and me. He was John’s best friend,” I said, disgusted at her lack of consideration.
“OK,” she brightened. “So you can meet Ron.” I looked at her and repeated, “Ron?”
“Yeah, Em, the solicitor.”
I wanted to tell her to piss off, but after she talked for a long time, I found myself agreeing to meet a guy called Ron. It appears I was lonelier than I thought.
*
A week later I’m in my bedroom getting dressed to go
out on a date at eight with Ron. My first date since I was sixteen. I had bought a dress, but decided I didn’t like it. Clo and Anne were there, as helpers and spectators. They were drinking vodka and arguing whether red or black
was a better choice of colour. I was a nervous wreck, like a bad flyer facing a long-haul flight.
“What if I hate the sight of him?”
“You won’t,” said Anne.
“How do you know?”
“He’s a ride,” she responded.
“He’s a ride?” asked Clo.
“Yeah,” said Anne.
“So why have you never set him up with me?” Clo challenged. We laughed and she smiled at herself. “Anyway, just as well, I’m off men,” she reminded us.
We knew and wondered how long it would last.
It was nearly time for him to call. Clo and Anne were giddy on vodka and I was two minutes from a serious case
of the runs.
“Where’s Richard?” Clo asked Anne.
“Oh, he’s out with Sean,” she responded.
I hadn’t mentioned my date to Sean. I wasn’t quite sure how he’d take it, being John’s best friend. It made me nervous.
“Does Sean know I’m going on this date?” I asked, trying to appear casual.
“Yeah, I’m sure Richard mentioned it,” Anne replied while fixing my hair like I was a two-year-old.
“Is that a problem?” asked the ever-vigilant Clo. “No,” I responded, lying. “It’s fine.”
The doorbell rang and I wanted to vomit.
“Answer the door,” Anne prompted.
“Right,” I agreed. “You’ll stay in the kitchen. I will leave with Ron!’ I could barely make myself say the name Ron. “And then you will go home and not be here when I get back.”
They both agreed to those terms so I opened the door
and greeted my blind date.
“Hi, I’m Emma,” I said.
He smiled. “Ron Lynch. Sorry I’m late!’
It was one minute past eight.
“You’re not late,” I pointed out while grabbing my coat.
I needed to get him out fast before Clo lost her resolve
and attempted to check him out like my mother had done
with John all those years ago. “Let’s go.”
“OK,” he smiled.
We left and I walked down the path to his sports car
thinking jesus, Ron is a ride.
The curtains twitched as we took off and I knew that
Clo was giving Anne a hard time for not introducing
Ron to her. We sat in silence, occasionally turning our heads to smile at one another. He asked me if I wanted to listen to some music.
“Great,” I said over-enthusiastically.
“Any requests?” he asked and I thought it a bit stupid seeing as we were in a car.
How much choice could he
getting laid. I was hurt.
“My sex life is private, and it’s not for you to discuss!” I was whisper-shouting.
“Look, it wasn’t planned. It’s just that Richard knows this solicitor — he’s really nice and he’s been single for over a year and …”
I stopped listening. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe that she thought it was OK to be having this conversation
with me, here in this stupid packed coffee shop.
“So, you see, that’s how the conversation started and Clo and I really feel it’s time to move on.”
I had missed the middle bit. Shit, they were talking about me behind my back and that was enough. I couldn’t believe that Clo and Anne were discussing my sex life
with Sean and Richard. It was humiliating.
“Well, actually Sean was pretty quiet,” she admitted. “He does spend a lot of time in your place. Is there something we should know?”
“Nothing’s going on between Sean and me. He was John’s best friend,” I said, disgusted at her lack of consideration.
“OK,” she brightened. “So you can meet Ron.” I looked at her and repeated, “Ron?”
“Yeah, Em, the solicitor.”
I wanted to tell her to piss off, but after she talked for a long time, I found myself agreeing to meet a guy called Ron. It appears I was lonelier than I thought.
*
A week later I’m in my bedroom getting dressed to go
out on a date at eight with Ron. My first date since I was sixteen. I had bought a dress, but decided I didn’t like it. Clo and Anne were there, as helpers and spectators. They were drinking vodka and arguing whether red or black
was a better choice of colour. I was a nervous wreck, like a bad flyer facing a long-haul flight.
“What if I hate the sight of him?”
“You won’t,” said Anne.
“How do you know?”
“He’s a ride,” she responded.
“He’s a ride?” asked Clo.
“Yeah,” said Anne.
“So why have you never set him up with me?” Clo challenged. We laughed and she smiled at herself. “Anyway, just as well, I’m off men,” she reminded us.
We knew and wondered how long it would last.
It was nearly time for him to call. Clo and Anne were giddy on vodka and I was two minutes from a serious case
of the runs.
“Where’s Richard?” Clo asked Anne.
“Oh, he’s out with Sean,” she responded.
I hadn’t mentioned my date to Sean. I wasn’t quite sure how he’d take it, being John’s best friend. It made me nervous.
“Does Sean know I’m going on this date?” I asked, trying to appear casual.
“Yeah, I’m sure Richard mentioned it,” Anne replied while fixing my hair like I was a two-year-old.
“Is that a problem?” asked the ever-vigilant Clo. “No,” I responded, lying. “It’s fine.”
The doorbell rang and I wanted to vomit.
“Answer the door,” Anne prompted.
“Right,” I agreed. “You’ll stay in the kitchen. I will leave with Ron!’ I could barely make myself say the name Ron. “And then you will go home and not be here when I get back.”
They both agreed to those terms so I opened the door
and greeted my blind date.
“Hi, I’m Emma,” I said.
He smiled. “Ron Lynch. Sorry I’m late!’
It was one minute past eight.
“You’re not late,” I pointed out while grabbing my coat.
I needed to get him out fast before Clo lost her resolve
and attempted to check him out like my mother had done
with John all those years ago. “Let’s go.”
“OK,” he smiled.
We left and I walked down the path to his sports car
thinking jesus, Ron is a ride.
The curtains twitched as we took off and I knew that
Clo was giving Anne a hard time for not introducing
Ron to her. We sat in silence, occasionally turning our heads to smile at one another. He asked me if I wanted to listen to some music.
“Great,” I said over-enthusiastically.
“Any requests?” he asked and I thought it a bit stupid seeing as we were in a car.
How much choice could he
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