Cathryn flipped through the papers on her clipboard. ‘A few people have dropped out but it looks like we’ll be at full capacity by eight.’
‘Amazing!’ I kicked off my flats and slipped into my heels. They’d cripple me by ten, but hopefully that was long enough to make an impression. ‘We’ve only got half an hour before the doors open so let’s do a quick sweep of the area and make sure the planetarium is ready to go.’
The sweating had just about subsided and I gave my hair a final brush before following Cathryn to the front of the museum. The planetarium looked amazing. The DJ would be stationed up in the rafters and the crowd would be dancing beneath the stars. There was a bar being set up right outside the door so people could slip out and get another gin and tonic without spilling booze on any expensive science equipment. The powers that be had stressed that no expensive science equipment should be damaged in the name of a good time.
I was really proud. Sure, there wouldn’t be a whole lot of learning happening, but at least it would introduce the museum to a new demographic and, hopefully, bring in some money from ticket sales. Mainly, though, I had set the whole thing up to realize my thirteen-year-old self’s dream of having a party in the planetarium. Blame the Pink Floyd laser show I saw in junior high, I guess.
I smiled at Cathryn. ‘It all looks great.’
‘It does, doesn’t it? I’m quite pleased.’
‘Seriously, we’ve outdone ourselves. If we don’t get a promotion out of this, I’ll eat my hat.’
‘That’s probably going a bit far, but I do think it looks lovely.’
I nodded. ‘I’m going to run outside for a cigarette and then I’ll take my post on the door.’
‘Don’t get lost!’ she called as I ducked out the side door.
Cathryn and I had agreed to rotate the painfully boring job of standing guard over the door and checking people off on the guest list. I usually hated door duty and tried to get out of it any way I could, but tonight I was looking forward to it. It was like a sneak preview: I could take a look at the merchandise before it went on the shop floor.
I snuck into a back alley and lit up, thinking about the best way to tackle the evening without breaking any rules. No eye contact. No lingering. No approaching a man I was interested in. No giving out my number unsolicited.
I sighed and flicked my cigarette butt into the corner. I sensed this was going to be a long night.
Doors opened at 7 p.m. so I took my place with a clipboard and a smile on my face. At first, there was just a trickle of people filtering through but thankfully by 8 o’clock that trickle had become a steady stream.
So far, the talent was looking good. As with any event like this, it was kind of a mixed bag. Maybe one too many hooting preppy guys with popped collars for my liking, and I was pretty sure I got the hairy eyeball from a couple of graying sixty-something men who really should have known better, but I definitely noticed a few wan-looking hipsters slide past me. Underfed men with too much hair and brooding eyes are like catnip to me. My ideal man is one-third history professor, one-third guitarist in a struggling neo-folk band and one-third deranged hobo.
Finally, 9.30 rolled around and I passed door duty over to a slightly frazzled-looking Cathryn.
‘How’s it going in there? You all right?’
‘Yes, all going well, though if one more trustee member gropes me, I can’t promise what I’ll do.’
‘They’re like octopi, those guys! They should be heading off soon, though. I’m sure their wives will be calling them home.’
‘Or their mistresses. Right, hand me the clipboard and get yourself in there. There are some good-looking men and you need a new test subject.’
‘I know. Too bad I can’t look at any of them.’
Cathryn shot me a quizzical look as I ducked through the door.
I made my way through the throngs of people at the bar and then slipped behind it and helped myself to a well-deserved Jack and Coke, showing the bartender my free booze pass. I peered into the planetarium; it was full to capacity with loads of twenty- and thirty-somethings dancing maniacally to nineties hip hop (my idea, thankyouverymuch). The trustees were pressed against the walls watching, like they had stumbled into a postmodern immersive theatre experience.
I downed my drink and made my way into the furor. I wasn’t sure how to approach this new style of partying. Usually I would just get drunk, make eyes with a guy, hope he reciprocated and then sidle over to him. But with the Rules, I realized my place was more with the trustees on the sidelines.
I squeezed myself next to a besuited man who was old enough to be my father, hoping I could melt into the background. He smiled benignly at me and I quickly returned the smile before looking out at the dancing crowd.
‘Bit loud in here, isn’t it?’ the father-figure said.
‘Yep, but that’s how they like it!’ I had to shout over the music to be heard.
‘Well, it’s a bit much for our lot, don’t you think?’ He nudged me gently in the ribs. ‘You look like you’d much rather be home with a nice cup of tea and a good book, like me.’
I smiled and shrugged, then slowly realized that he was lumping me in with his generation. He apparently thought I was in my sixties because I wasn’t jumping around on the dance floor like a lunatic.
I felt old and lame. I had to get into the fray.
I decided to try out Rules-style mingling. I couldn’t make eye contact, but I could move around. I excused myself, then started circling the room like a restless buzzard, pushing my way through the crowd before eventually getting pinned against the wall by a couple of Henrys hooraying themselves a bit too enthusiastically to Kid ’n Play. Things weren’t going according to plan.
I decided to try another Rules-approved tack: act removed and vaguely entitled. With the ‘dance like no one’s watching’ mantra quoted so much on Facebook posts running through my head, I staked out a spot in the middle of the dance floor, closed my eyes and went nuts to ‘Jump Around’. I mean, I really got into it. By the end of the song, the people around me had cleared away, leaving me in the middle of an empty circle. I’m not sure how refined I looked, but no one could say I was on the prowl for a man.
I stayed the course, doing a low-key, interpretive dance-style performance to ‘Gin and Juice’ before throwing everything I had at Missy Elliott. It was strangely liberating, this whole dancing-like-no-one-was-watching thing. Just as I was about to get to the finale of ‘Hot Boyz’, I felt a tap on my shoulder.
I cautiously opened my eyes, willing it to be one of the rumpled hipster types and not Cathryn asking me to go back on door duty. Instead, I found myself staring at the face of a chiseled blond man.
‘Hello,’ he said. ‘I’d like to buy you a drink.’
He wasn’t my usual type (he looked far too healthy for that) but he was very handsome. He looked like a poster-child for the Aryan nation and I could see the outline of some impressively muscled arms underneath his neatly pressed button-down shirt. I decided to give it a shot.
‘Sure,’ I said. ‘I need some air.’
He smiled a white, even-toothed smile. ‘I’m not surprised, after that performance.’
I tried to look demure. ‘I was just feeling the music.’
We squeezed our way to the bar and he clicked his fingers at an annoyed-looking bartender and ordered two vodka tonics. He hadn’t asked what I wanted, but as it was free, I accepted without complaint.
I was acutely aware of the fact that I had only a few minutes with him before the Rules pulled me back into the room to mingle. I had to work fast if I wanted to see those arms in more detail. We exchanged names. Let’s call him Popeye (post-spinach, of course). Drinks procured, he looked at me politely but expectantly, as though waiting for a surprise to pop out of me like a jack-in-the-box. I remained staunchly silent for a few minutes before finally cracking under the pressure.
‘How are you enjoying the museum?’ I asked. ‘First time here?’ Argh. What k
ind of a Rules girl was I if I couldn’t go five minutes without asking a question? I put my most uninterested face on as penance.
‘No, I’m an old museum pro. I brought my nephew a few weeks ago.’
‘Aw, that’s sweet.’
‘Yeah, he’s four. He loved it. Couldn’t get enough of the Launchpad bit, and I had to drag him out of the planetarium. He just wanted to look up at the stars for ages.’
‘Yeah, that’s always a little-boy pleaser. So, are you having fun tonight?’
‘It’s great. Though I’ve got to say, it’s a bit of a different vibe tonight than when I was here with my nephew.’
‘Yes, more drunken.’ I concentrated on looking aloof.
‘My father is one of the museum’s patrons, so I’ve spent a lot of time here. What brought you here tonight?’
‘Your father pays my salary. I’m one of the events coordinators here.’
‘So this is your event? I’m impressed! It’s fantastic.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t go that far. But thanks.’ I pulled my eyes away from his and settled on his left bicep. Surely that counted as avoiding eye contact? God, he was hot. I wondered what he looked like without a shirt. Maybe doing some carpentry.
I could sense I was getting into dangerous territory. My Rules fairy godmothers pulled me away. ‘Anyway, I should get back. Circulate or whatever. It was really nice to meet you, though, and thanks for the drink.’
For a second, he looked surprised – he obviously wasn’t used to being rebuffed – but his chivalric side recovered quickly. ‘Of course. Here, let me get the door for you.’
I walked through, trying to look elegant and graceful. ‘You are a creature unlike any other,’ I thought to myself. ‘A creature unlike any other.’
The mingling began anew, with me bouncing from wall to wall like a well-played game of Pong. I danced to a couple more songs but, despite DMX’s best efforts, my heart wasn’t in it. When it reached midnight, I decided to call it a night. Being out and surrounded by attractive men but unable to do anything other than look aloof and dance by myself was boring, and my shoes were officially two hours past the bearable mark. It was time to turn back into a pumpkin.
I grabbed my coat from the office, slipped my blistered feet into my flats, checked that no one had broken any important science equipment, said goodnight to Cathryn at the door and set off down the front steps.
Halfway down the street, I heard footsteps approaching rapidly behind me and then a hand grabbed my shoulder.
‘Fuck you, fucker! I have mace!’ I yelled as I spun around, grabbing a tiny bottle of hairspray from my bag. I tried to remember if I was supposed to head-butt a rapist in the nose or knee him in the balls first.
It was Popeye.
‘Oh,’ I said, slipping the hairspray back into my bag. ‘Sorry about that. I thought you were a rapist.’
He looked mortified. ‘God, no. I’m sorry I startled you. Are you all right?’
‘Yes, I’m fine, and don’t be sorry. I’m very relieved you’re not a rapist.’
‘I saw you go and just had to run after you. I was watching you all night and I just think you’re … I don’t know … rather extraordinary. I’d like to see you again. Could I take you to dinner?’
‘Oh, um. God. Sure.’
‘Great. I know a wonderful little place. My treat, of course.’
‘Sounds good.’ Look demure look demure look demure, I chanted to myself.
‘Lovely. Could I take your number?’
He took out a gleaming iPhone and I tapped my number in.
‘I’ll give you a call during the week,’ he said. ‘Now, let me put you in a cab. I don’t want you to have another fright tonight.’
This guy was unbelievable. I was sure that one of the Rules authors had put him on to me to convince me of the merits of their ways. I glanced at his arms and decided I didn’t give a shit.
And so it happened that I had my first glimpse of Rules success. He hailed a taxi, kissed me on the cheek and stared longingly after the car as it sped away (I know this because I watched him in the reflection of my phone). I was sure he would call.
Regardless, it was out of my control, which actually felt kind of good.
14 April
‘So let me get this right: a gorgeous man reaches into his pocket with these apparently amazing arms of his and buys you a drink, and you leave him after five minutes in order to wander around a room by yourself. He then runs down the street after you and tells you you’re amazing.’
‘Yep,’ I said, spreading peanut butter onto a cracker as I lay on the couch in my bathrobe. Lucy and I were enjoying our Sunday-morning debriefing over instant coffee and nail polishing. ‘That’s what happened. Can you pass me that raspberry-colored one?’
She slid the little bottle across the table. ‘And he’s already rung you this morning?’
I nodded. ‘We’re going out on Wednesday. He actually wanted to see me tonight but the book forbids me from accepting a date less than two days in advance.’
‘So The Rules works?’
I painted a single stripe down my thumbnail and watched as it immediately bled into my cuticle. I looked up at Lucy. ‘I mean, I wouldn’t go that far. That banker friend of Michael’s didn’t exactly fall at my feet. But, yeah, it seems to have worked on this guy, at least for now.’
‘Why do you sound gutted? Shouldn’t you be pleased to have cracked the secret?’
I squinted as I tackled my pinky nail. ‘I don’t really want to go around acting like some feminine zombie for the next sixty years, so I’m kind of rooting for it to fail.’
‘Well, I think it sounds brilliant. I might need to give it another go. Max has gone quiet on me again and I have zero prospects on the horizon.’
‘No!’ I cried. ‘You have to have a normal life and bring me back stories from the real world! Speaking of which, how was your night?’
Lucy let out a long sigh and took a sip of her coffee. ‘Hayley and I went to the Electricity Showrooms for the eighties night, which was decent, but full of bridge and tunnel types. So of course we ended up in the Horse and Groom until three in the morning.’
My eyes widened. ‘I am so jealous. How was it in there? Man, I miss that place.’
‘Same as always. I was harassed for an hour by a man called Boomer who was wearing a woolen hat and kept talking about his ex-wife’s dog. He was a good kisser, though. Asked for my number at the end of the night so I gave him Amy’s.’
Amy was the evangelical, teetotal former room-mate of Lucy’s who was an obsessive tidier of shelves and alphabetizer of spices. Lucy had never forgiven her for dumping her rum and had taken to giving out her number to Shoreditch’s weirder male inhabitants. Lesson learned: don’t mess with a girl’s liquor.
‘See? That’s so much more fun than being all demure and elusive and shit. I circled a room like a neutered piranha for hours while you were out enjoying your youth and making out with crazies. Science sucks.’
Lucy rolled her eyes. ‘Um, excuse me? You were told you were amazing by some incredible mystery man with great arms who is now probably going to buy you dinner. So fuck off.’
‘Okay, okay,’ I said, taking a sip of now-tepid coffee. ‘But if Popeye turns out to be a psychopath and cuts me up into pieces and stores me in a meat locker, you won’t think I’ve got it so good.’
‘Oh! I forgot!’ Lucy suddenly jumped up from the couch and ran into the kitchen. She returned holding a postcard covered in tiny sailboats. ‘This came for you.’
I flipped it over.
‘You can never cross the ocean until you have the courage to lose sight of the shore’ – Christopher Columbus
Good luck on your scientific adventure – just make sure you don’t capsize!
Love, Meg
I smiled and tucked it into the pages of my journal. She always knew just what to say to make me feel brave.
17 April
The first date with Popeye was a resoundin
g success, and I didn’t end up in a meat locker at the end of it. I had to work late that night so we sacked off dinner and went to the pub instead for a drink.
He chose a cozy little pub in St James’s that dated back to the seventeenth century. I’m a sucker for that kind of thing, and when I asked him about it, he shrugged and said he was a traditionalist.
He really wasn’t kidding about that. It seemed like he was on a one-man mission to bring back the Arthurian age.
I walked in and he stood up immediately, took my coat, hung it up, pulled my chair out for me and went to the bar to buy me a drink. It was like being in the eye of a chivalry tornado.
He was polite, considerate, attentive. He asked questions, he complimented me, he bought drinks without awkwardness or hesitation. I don’t know where this guy had come from but I definitely wasn’t complaining.
After his allotted two hours were up, I sweetly told him that I had a big day ahead of me (a slightly more probable excuse on a Wednesday night) and said goodnight. Polite kiss on the cheek and one last yearning look at his truly excellent ass as he walked away, and I was back home to gush to Lucy about how eerily perfect he seemed.
This was confirmed when he called the next day to ask me to dinner on Saturday. Annoyingly, Rules girls aren’t allowed to accept weekend dates past Wednesday because we are just Too Damn Busy and our time, like everything else about us, is precious. So we made a date for the following Saturday, which gave me an extra week to fantasize about him picking me up and tossing me around in exciting sexual positions.
27 April
I had prepared notes ahead of tonight’s date with Popeye:
Name: Popeye
Age: 26 (A younger guy! In your face, gender stereotypes!)
Occupation: Consultant (A fake job if there ever was one, but never mind)
Nationality: English
Description: Really, really hot. Have I mentioned the arms?
Method: The Rules
We arranged to meet at a little Italian place in Soho, so after an action-packed day of exercising, painting my nails and eating cheese and crackers while watching a Food Network Cake Wars marathon, I made my way to the West End. I found the place pretty quickly, so I hid around the corner and smoked cigarettes until I was five minutes late. I’m a modern woman and very happy to sit on my own in a bar most days (maybe that just makes me a modern alcoholic?) but I hate being the first person to turn up on a date. I want the guy to be early, preferably with a drink waiting for me.
Age, Sex, Location Page 4