My Thursday was dull as dishwater. Work was a drag, and afterwards I dutifully called my parents but they had nothing to say except for some strict and old-fashioned instructions about how to live my life. They also guilted me into agreeing to visit soon, because I hadn't seen them in ages. There were good reasons for that. Being with them was mostly a chore, they were extremely negative people. They drew the energy from me, always left me feeling drained. It's a miracle I managed to grow up with any positivity at all. I'd always wanted a sibling but no such luck, I'd had to struggle through on my own. I messaged Brian, hoping to have a quick chat to vent concerning the call to my parents, but he was busy. Ranting to Ed about my parents didn't strike me as sensible. So I bottled it all up -- I was always quite good at doing that. I heard nothing from Ed, and sent him nothing.
Friday at work was hard-going, again, but I got through it. My usual lunch pals were absent, I ate on my own, and couldn't decide if I wanted more social time in my life or less. Less seemed a little almost obscene -- I already lived on my own, what more could I want? It had to be more. More social interaction, more people, more experiences. That had to be the answer.
At home I made a simple dinner, put on some music, and slouched on the sofa with Romeo. I stroked his soft black fur, and he ignored me. I wanted to read but felt too restless to concentrate. Just waiting down the clock, so that I could meet up with Ed, feel that thrill again, of wanting and being wanted. Our bar plan seemed incidental, I barely thought of it, like it wasn't going to happen at all.
We met at a bar neither of us knew well -- that was just logical. In case it went badly. Ed was in nondescript black jeans and a black jumper, and said that he wanted to 'blend in'. I said he looked a bit too preppy to blend in in this town. I was in my relaxed-fit blue jeans, with the holes at the knees, and a soft red cardigan. Not my most seductive, but if I was going to make a fool of myself, I was damn sure going to do so in comfortable clothes. I'd re-read the relevant part of my book before coming out, and it definitely, definitely needed re-writing. It was unconvincing, it read just like someone trying to imagine what drunkenly getting off with a stranger felt like. It wasn't good enough. And this was my chance to make it shine.
A table in the corner called to us, and we tucked ourselves away there, with wine. I set to work on getting myself tipsy, but I'm a slow drinker, and anyway I wanted to talk.
"Tell me more about your life." I said to him. What do you like to do for fun?"
"Fun?"
"Yeah, you know. You've heard of fun."
"I have, yeah. Well, apart from reading I play football a couple of times a week, and I do darts and snooker with a couple of old friends of mine. Otherwise I just stay home, reading."
"That sounds more social than me, to be fair. Good for you. What are these friends like?"
Ed smiled and shook his head. "They're real plonkers. Constant mischief. But I love them."
I'd not heard a man admit to loving a friend before. It made me like Ed more. And I suppose it gave me a little bit of early hope, that he could come to love me. Someone had to, surely. Someone had to see me and think yeah, yeah, this girl is something worth holding onto. I was starved of affection. Being leered at or harassed did not fill that void, it was merely unpleasant. I wanted something good.
"And what do you read?"
"All sorts, really. Anything, everything. I don't think there's a genre I don't like. Except maybe sports biographies... yeah. Those are pretty... well, they're awful, aren't they?" I said that yes, yes they are. "I'd probably be reading right now, if we weren't out. I don't mean that I'd rather be. I'm happy to be here, with you."
"Yeah? Tell me more about that. Because like, I'm happy to be here with you too. I like you. I feel good being with you." That was brave of me. Not especially articulate or persuasive, but brave.
"Same for me. It feels right, doesn't it? This is where we're supposed to be right now."
We spent a couple of warm minutes just looking at each other, then around the bar, which was sleek, modern and minimalist with lots of black and grey and chrome surfaces. It was filling, steadily. That atmosphere of building anticipation, the Friday night thing. People, possibilities, concealed frustration and longing. I cast my innocent eyes around, and tried to work out who might be the right one. Not that I really felt like doing anything, at that point. The only person I wanted to make out with was sitting right across from me. But I believed in the idea, I wanted to write well, and I didn't want to back out and look like a coward. I told myself just do this, and then you can take Ed home and do whatever you feel like doing. If he's up for it. Which he probably will be, because he's a man. Not that I should think like that, because that's a sexist idea.
"Have you found a target?" Ed asked me. He very carefully withdrew a slim notepad and biro from his pocket, then slid them back, like he was revealing some Class A drugs.
"Not yet. Aren't you supposed to be helping me?"
"Not with that bit. Do you need another drink?" He went off to the bar, and I watched him. Everything about him spoke of quiet, gentle confidence. He was so at ease. When he returned I took a big gulp. This place was expensive but the wine was good, worth it. The ambience was a bit...posh. I felt I should have dressed up a bit more. Never mind, too late now.
"I need another hour."
"No worries."
"Sorry, I just need more of a buzz, you know? And it'll be easier when the place gets full, so people don't see me make an idiot of myself. Are you really going to stay sat here in the corner, when I'm getting off with some guy?"
Ed shrugged. "Yeah, probably. I'll watch, and make some notes."
"Ah, that's your thing, is it? You like watching?" I'd been with a guy like that before, years ago. He wanted me to sleep with other men in front of him. I'd not liked that, there was something weird about it. And he wasn't the kindest of boyfriends, or the most supportive. So instead of sleeping with people in front of him, I'd done it behind his back. Which I'm not proud of. I've learned a lot since then. I've got more self-respect now, and higher standards. I think.
"No, but I can do it when I need to. Like now. We're going to make this book the best it can possibly be, it's going to be... vivid. Everything it describes will pop off the page. Your writing was really good. It just needs more colour."
"And that's what we're here for. So, tell me about your ex-girlfriend. The most recent one."
Ed sighed, and had a sip, then leant back and frowned, like he was deciding how much to reveal. "Well, she was our age. I say our age -- you're late twenties, right?" I said I was thirty-one, and he said he was thirty. "So, around our age, and we met online, and we were together for around... around a year. She was a lot of fun, and a really good person. I liked her a lot."
"What went wrong?"
"Why does something have to have gone wrong?" He poked his tongue at me, a childish gesture of his that I was beginning to enjoy.
"Well, you're not with her, so..."
"Yeah, well, we just weren't right for each other. We wanted to be, but we weren't. Different interests, different ideas about life... I think we both got a bit bored." It definitely seemed that there was more to it than that, but clearly he didn't want to go into it right now. "And you? Your last one?"
That was a sneaky pass of the baton. A classic distraction tactic. But alright, I would talk a bit. "He was a bit of a rat, to be honest. Nothing awful, just the way he used to look at other women, and little things like that. And he wasn't... I don't know. He wasn't... present, you know? Maybe I'm just angry at him for that. He wasn't really there, when we were together. He was so into his phone, so into social media. Sometimes I felt like I didn't exist. I mean -- I'm not clingy, okay?" I felt the need to establish that. Although stating it in that way made me seem a bit too defensive. "But when you're there with someone, eating a meal or having a drink, or a walk or whatever, I think it's best to try to really be in that moment, and not talking to someone else, or scrolling your feeds, or thinking about work. I don't know. He was nice, in some ways. He wasn't really a rat. I suppose it's more that I found him very... disappointing."
The conversation shifted, onto family, and then onto the town, and the places we liked and loathed. I got through glass of wine number two, and Ed offered me the second half of his, saying that I needed it more than him. Very true. I knocked it back and sighed. Time to get to work. Ed pointed, subtly, at a guy in his thirties who was on the edge of a group standing round the bar, looking bored. The rest of them were chatting away, he looked to be half-listening. They were all in boring office attire, this had post-work drinks written all over it, and clearly he was just trying to run down the clock, and get out of there. Not an unattractive man. I quite liked his close-cropped hair, and tidy beard. Okay, come on. Do this. You've drunk enough. It's after ten pm. This is an acceptable context for snogging some randomer. No one is going to take any notice. Please, please, no one take any notice.
"Hiya."
"Evening." The man replied to me, and in that instant he was halfway between his colleagues and me, awkwardly backed against the bar, with me on one side and them the other. Waiting to see if I wanted to talk more or if I was just some friendly gal who says hello to everyone she comes across.
"Are you out with work?" I raised my eyebrows in a kind of sympathetic, confide in me type way. It worked like a charm.
"Yeah, I am," he said, gratefully, glancing quickly to the left to make sure they were still engrossed in their conversation. "It's one of those things that isn't mandatory... but also, it's kind of mandatory."
"Sucks. Fuck your life."
