by Chris Birch
One summer’s day, sat in our sitting room, the lads and I decided that we needed to do more than just a shower, shave and spruce to make an impression.
'I reckon we should get a wax, y’know, on our chests,' one of the lads suggested as we watched an advert on TV with a topless David Beckham on it.
'The girls love him cos he’s got no hair on his body,' he explained.
It seemed painful but if it helped me pull girls I was willing to give it a try.
'Here’s some tea.’
Mum walked in the room and plonked the mugs down in front of us on the coffee table.
'Who waxes your legs mum?' I asked.
Mum tutted but when I explained we wanted to see a beautician she just laughed.
'You boys! Here’s her card, she’s on the high street.’
We made an appointment to get waxed but disappointingly discovered afterwards that despite being hairless, we didn’t resemble David Beckham at all.
'Maybe a spray tan will help?' the beautician suggested.
'Will make you nice and brown'.
Me and the lads agreed and spent the afternoon taking it in turns to be sprayed with the sticky orange substance that smelt like cheesy crisps. Covered in the greasy liquid I looked in the mirror, happy with the results.
'It’s slimming isn't it,' I concluded, sucking in my beer belly.
I went home, put on a white shirt to show off my sun kissed look and we got a taxi to Blackwood for a night out.
Later that night when I went to the toilet I caught sight of what I thought was one of Willy Wonka’s Oompa Loompas, until I glanced again and recognised myself. The tan had darkened from a sun-kissed glow to a neon orange. With every hour that passed I turned a deeper shade and what had once been a white shirt became stained peach with my handprints.
'You did wash it off when you got home right?' one of the lads checked.
From my expression he could tell I hadn’t.
'Is that what you’re meant to do?' I panicked.
Suddenly, I realised why I was the only one resembling a piece of terracotta pottery.
'Ah well, it’s dark in here,’ I shrugged.
Amazingly, it didn’t turn girls off me. Minutes later a woman in her fifties, with a mahogany fake tan and straw like blonde hair that made her resemble a wooden broom, sauntered up to me.
'I love your tan,' she whispered.
At first I ignored her but she wouldn’t leave me alone and followed me to the other side of the nightclub.
'We both love a tan, we’d look good together,' she grinned.
If I had of been picky I would have carried on avoiding her but the lure of an older woman seemed exciting. Fast forward five minutes and we were snogging next to the DJ booth whilst my mates cheered in the background. When I came up for air I rushed to the bar to get us two glasses of vodka and coke but whilst I waited someone pinched my bum. I turned on my heels and another woman, she looked about forty years old, was smiling back at me.
'Aren’t you lovely?' she grinned, curling her long brunette hair around one of her fingers.
I had the attention span of a fly and the woman who was waiting for me on the dance floor faded from my mind.
'Is that for me?' she whispered flirtatiously and lifted one of the drinks that the bartender had served me.
Watching her with stunned glee I barely had a moment to react before she lunged and stuck her tongue down my throat.
It must be the fake tan, I congratulated myself.
Then I felt a tap on my shoulder, the lady who looked like a broom had returned and judging from her expression, was furious. The two ladies looked at each other and it became clear they knew each other.
'Up to your old tricks are you?' the blonde one sneered at the brunette.
'I can’t help it if he fancies me more,' the brunette said cattily.
Taking a step back I hoped to remain undetected.
'You cheeky bitch,' the blonde one shrieked and then landed an almighty slap on the brunette’s cheek. As I shrank further back into my crowd of mates the women started tugging at each other’s hair.
'Bloody hell mate, they’re fighting over you!' my friend laughed, gobsmacked.
I’ve done it, I thought, I’m brilliant with women.
Like most lads that age, by the time we could legally drink we had exhausted most of the local nightclubs and bars and so wanted to cast our net further afield. So, every year, the boys and I would go on holiday.
'What sort of sights would you like to see?' the travel agent asked as we chose a holiday together.
Our faces stared back at her blankly.
'What food do you like?' she continued.
'Are you interested in history, or, do you prefer art?'
After a stoney silence I piped up. 'We like kebabs and nightclubs,' I admitted.
Raising her eyebrows she sighed, 'ah right, a lads holiday it is'.
Each year we went to a different Spanish resort but they all had the same thing in common, hot sandy beaches, English themed restaurants and the only sights we saw were the nightclubs.
Every night we would drink our weight in sugary cocktails, served in huge buckets and adorned with sparklers and flamingoes stuck on cocktail sticks. Then, like a scurrying pack of dogs chasing a single cat, we would desperately try to talk to as many women as possible.
'Right lads, you know the score, whoever pulls the most girls wins,' one of the lads announced across a packed bar.
You didn’t get anything if you won, just the respect from the other lads and the knowledge that you were the, ‘top puller’.
On one holiday I fell for a beautiful Russian girl and when we snogged at a foam party, covered in soapy bubbles, I raised my arms above my head.
'Birchy, Birchy, Birchy,' the lads chanted around me.
I felt victorious.
Chapter Three: Marriage Is For Life
I scanned inside the glass counter, it was filled with row upon row of gleaming silver and gold rings, carefully placed on large navy blue pillows. As I glanced momentarily at each ring I hoped one would stand out from the rest.
'We’ve got gold, silver, platinum and then there’s the stones, you can have diamond, which is more traditional, or, go for ruby, emerald, something more unusual.'
The lady who worked there had her hands perched on the counter, eager to open it up. She was dripping with jewels, gold hoops peaked out from behind her grey hair, watches and bracelets decorated her wrists and each finger was stacked with sparkling rings, like a walking shop stand. She hadn’t stopped talking since my best friend Paul and I had walked into her shop five minutes before.
'I’m assuming it is an engagement ring you want then Chris?' she raised an eyebrow.
She’s fishing for gossip, I thought.
The lady who owned the shop knew my nan, so, it was very likely that as soon as I left the jewellers she would be straight on the phone to tell her.
I hadn’t told Mum my plans to propose to my girlfriend, Lauren. I didn’t really want her to find out from a rumour around the town but as it was the only jewellery shop in Bargoed so I had to go there.
I’ll pretend the ring is for a friend, I thought.
'Yeah, he’s going to propose to his girlfriend, what would you suggest?' Paul blurted out before I could stop him.
The lady raised her eyebrows again.
'Are you now? How exciting!'
Well that’s that then, the whole town will know before I even get home.
'Depends what your budget is. How much do you want to spend on your wife-to-be?'
Wife-to-be? Wow, it sounded so grown up.
I had met Lauren when I was seventeen and at the time I was dating her friend, Lynsey. They knew each other through a local drama group that they were both members of. They performed at The Miners Institute in Blackwood and would tour the local area with different productions. One afternoon Lynsey and I had met for a drink in the pub and she told me about a play she was p
erforming in at the time.
'It’s about drugs awareness, we’re going to take it around the local schools to teach kids not to take drugs,' she explained.
'Oh right,' I nodded and then took a sip of my beer.
'It’s quite a good role for me to play because…'
Lynsey started talking but my focus fell on the TV screen behind her head.They were replaying the rugby match from the day before. I knew at some point she was going to notice I wasn’t paying attention but couldn’t quite drag my eyes away from the screen. It didn’t help that I had no interest in acting whatsoever. In fact, I struggled to understand how her and the other members of the drama group did it really. Getting up on stage in front of a bunch of strangers, making a fool of yourself, it just seemed utterly mortifying to me. Why on earth would you want to do that? I couldn’t imagine having the confidence to get up on stage. Although I was cocky with my mates, deep down, I was pretty shy, especially with strangers, or, in scenarios that were out of my comfort zone.
'So the play is going well but we’ve just gone one problem….' Lynsey carried on.
My eyes flickered onto her and then back to the TV again.
'Can I get you anything else?' a waiter asked and broke my concentration on the game.
Lynsey looked annoyed that she had been interrupted.
'Yeah, another pint for me and a packet of cheese and onion, Lynsey?' I asked.
She shook her head and the barman turned on his heels back to the bar to make my drink.
'So, anyway, as I was saying, would you mind being in the play?' she said simply, as if she was asking me to pass her the salt.
I stared back at her with a very severe frown and an open mouth.
'You haven’t been listening to me, have you Chris?'
It was a lose-lose situation, so I went with the truth.
'Erm, no I think I missed a bit.’
'Someone has dropped out of the play so we are one man down, it’s a really small part but we can’t do the play without it. I’ve told them you would do it.’
She could see from my frown that I would need some convincing.
'It’s literally, like, three lines, it’s so easy, it will only take you a few minutes, please, pleeasssseeee…'.
The next day I found myself in a town hall, surrounded by props, my hands clasped a script as I wondered why on earth I had agreed. The truth was, in the toss up between girls and keeping my dignity, girls won, every, single, time.
'Hi, I’m Lauren.’
A soft, female voice broke me from my thoughts. I focused on her face. Her golden hair was tied up in a messy pony tail, strands fell down by her neck and her pillowy, plump, lips had a slick of lip gloss.
Say something, I thought. Speak Chris, you’re going to look like a weirdo if you don’t say something in the next second.
'Chris,' I blurted.
I stretched out a hand for her to shake.
Why the hell did you do that? You aren’t at a business meeting, great first impression. I wished that I had had a few pints before I had come, that way I would know what to say.
But Lauren just carried on smiling sweetly, her eyes blinked as she shook my hand and I noticed her thick, long eyelashes, like feathers.
'Don’t worry,' she said, ‘you’ve only got a few lines’.
She had noticed I was nervous and that made me even more self-conscious. Everything I knew about impressing women involved coming across as cool and aloof, not sweaty and on edge.
'Right, let me run you through a few things,' a female voice bellowed from the other end of the hall.
It took me a few seconds to register and when I tried to break my stare from Lauren I realised she hadn’t looked away either, my heart began to beat faster.
'So, the play is called Wings To Fly, you are going to play the drug dealer who supplies the drugs that kill Lauren,' the voice was next to me.
Lauren finally looked to her side and I followed her gaze.
'That’s the director,' she whispered.
'I’m sorry about killing you in the play,' I said.
Lauren’s face scrunched into a laugh. I’ve made her laugh, I thought, that’s a good sign. Maybe being in this play won’t be so bad.
Over the next two weeks I begrudgingly learnt my part and with each rehearsal my romance with Lynsey fizzled out more and more. It wasn’t ever going to last, we had nothing in common and it didn’t help that I fancied the pants off Lauren.
The first performance of the play was terrifying, I rushed my way through the lines and swore I would never do it again. Then, after the audience had filtered out and I had changed out of my costume, Lauren came up to me backstage.
'Fancy going for a drink?’
'Yeah, erm, great.’
I tried to seem cool but it was probably obvious to Lauren how excited I was.
On that first date we didn’t stop talking. We met in a pub in town, it was a weeknight so it was pretty dead in there, the jingle of a fruit box machine and our voices were the only noises.
'So, where do you work?' she asked.
'In McDonalds.’
It was hardly impressive but I wasn’t ashamed, I was still at college at the time and was just working there at the weekends and evenings to save some extra money. It was better to be working there then have no job at all.
'Awesome, so do I get free burgers now?'
‘Anytime.’
She made me feel totally at ease, instead of feeling like I had to impress her, it was like she was one of my mates.
'How about you?' I asked.
'Oh, I just work in a bank, sounds boring but I love it.’
I had grown up with such a hard working Dad that the importance of holding down a job was drilled into me. She was seventeen, the same age as me and had a profession, I was impressed.
'Wow, well you can buy the next round then.’
'It’s a deal,' she winked, 'same again?'
Spending time with Lauren just felt easy and she was different to any girl I had ever met before, I was totally enamoured by her.
'So, do you want to do this again sometime?' I asked, after the landlord rang the bell for last orders.
She smiled back, 'definitely'.
With three pints of beer and what I thought was a pretty good date behind me, I took a brave step. As we stood outside the pub, the night sky plunged the rest of the street into darkness and I leant towards her, kept my eyes focused on hers and prayed that she didn’t turn away. My prayer was answered, she moved towards me, her hand rested on my arm and we kissed. My stomach churned, my palms instantly got sweaty and my chest burnt with excitement, not to mention all the other sensations I felt across my body. This is it, I thought, I’m totally in love.
Things moved quickly for Lauren and I after that, we had our first, second and third date in quick succession and spent all of our free time together.
'So, we’re together, right?' I asked her, at the end of date number four.
'We are,' she smiled and then kissed me.
All the other girlfriends that came before Lauren seemed childish and juvenile. It was like she made me realise what a real relationship was, as if meeting her had made me become a grown up. We would go out for dinner together and spent Saturday’s trawling around the shops in town, I patiently waited for her outside changing rooms and then we would spend the evening cuddled up in the middle of a row of seats at the cinema.
When I had popped in to see the lads in the rugby club for the first time in weeks they made it clear they weren’t too impressed.
'What’s happened to you mate?' Paul asked.
'Yeah, we thought you’d been kidnapped,' Steven teased.
The lads elbowed each other with glee, like a double-act.
'Alright boys, give it a rest.’
Although they were trying to wind me up, it just made me smile, I was so happy with Lauren that nothing could annoy me.
I even learnt to drive so that we could spend more time to
gether. She lived in the next town on from me but rather than let that stop us from seeing each other I was determined to drive so that we didn’t have to rely on buses, or, getting a lift from our parents.
I passed my test and after Dad had bought me a car, there was nothing that could stop Lauren and I seeing each other. I even started missing nights out with the lads in favour of nights in with Lauren.
'You’re under the thumb,' Paul grinned cheekily when I met him to show off my new car.
'Nah,' I shook my head.
'You are mate, we never see you.’
I could tell from the smile on his face he wasn’t really angry with me.
With each month we spent together Lauren and I got closer. Dozens of tiny milestones passed, she met my parents, I met hers, each one confirmed what we both already knew, things between us were serious. But at the same time that love blossomed for us, my mum and dad’s relationship was eroding.
For months, Mum and Dad seemed to be playing a slow game of hide and seek, they were never in a room together at the same time, as soon as one appeared the other would disappear. Then, one evening, after dropping Lauren back at her house, I walked into the sitting room and Mum was sitting in almost darkness, just the light from the telly illuminated the room.
'We need to have a chat Chris,' she said solemnly and patted the seat next to her on the sofa.
Sensing a serious atmosphere I shut the door behind me, the sound of the catch seemed ten times louder than normal.
'Me and your Dad, Chris, we aren’t, well, things aren’t great,' she sighed.
She was staring blankly towards the telly but not watching it. I wasn’t sure if we were the only ones in the house but Mum was speaking in a hushed, quiet voice, so I matched her volume.
'Right…'
'You and your brother, well you know things aren’t right between your Father and I.’
Do we? I thought. It dawned on me that I should have noticed something, that there was an obvious problem that I hadn’t picked up on, perhaps because I spent so much time with Lauren.