Rubber Gloves or Jimmy Choos?

by Faith Bleasdale

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Matty. But I can’t talk about that now.’ We got up. Again we walked in silence, Katie hugging her cardigan and me with my hands stuffed into my coat pockets trying to keep warm. It was a cold, crisp winter’s day, my head was awash with thoughts. I tucked my arm through Katie’s, pulling her gently towards me. ‘I’ll buy you a coffee,’ I said.

  ‘You’re on,’ Katie said, and smiled.

  Chapter Twelve

  There was a little boy around town, he was called Cupid and everyone was saying what a naughty little boy he was. Apparently he would hit everyone he came across in the chest with his arrows. Posters warned people to keep away from this boy. But he was cunning: he would disguise himself and trick people to get to them. Everyone was despairing, everyone was falling in love. I decided to track this Cupid fellow down. I saw him sitting on a rock, looking a little forlorn.

  ‘Cupid, Cupid, hello.’

  ‘Hello.’ He sighed.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘People are trying to avoid me and my little arrows. It’s very sad.’

  ‘But I’m not. Look, Cupid, I would very much like you to hit me in the chest with your arrow.’

  Cupid smiled. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, look, I shall stand here and be your target.’ Cupid picked up his bow and arrow and aimed at my chest. The arrow hit me in the arm.

  ‘Ow, that hurt,’ I cried, in pain.

  ‘Sorry, I’ll try again.’ Cupid fired another arrow, which hit me in the leg. Then another, which hit me in the head, and another, which missed altogether. He sighed again. ‘I’m sorry, but I guess it’s just not going to work when you’re so willing. I’m going to find someone else.’ With that he picked up his bow and arrows and left me nursing my wounds. People were right about Cupid; he was a bloody pain in the arse.

  ***

  After our conversation, I felt I was beginning to know Katie, but I had a long way to go, which was fine. I felt I had taken down one barrier, and to become friends with Katie I was prepared to wait until she was ready. I had also broken down one of my barriers: I had stopped wanting to be her. Of course, I still wanted to be like her, but now I didn’t want her life. I was sad for her past and I was sad for her lack of friends, but I didn’t feel sorry for her. She didn’t need me to feel sorry for her. She had reluctantly become my friend. I was determined to teach her that friendship didn’t have to mean hurt, but I had to do it her way. This meant that I became part of her life, and her social life. I knew we were both hiding, but that was the way it had to be.

  ‘Katie divided her social life into two scenes: the rich people and the ‘cool’ people. Apparently these groups were kept separate because you couldn’t really be rich and cool – or not really cool anyway. The cool people were very scary, always trying to be individual, which meant each person was more outrageous than the next They were also too cool to talk to most people, and definitely too cool to be your friend. I was in awe of these people. Katie wasn’t: she said they were just people, which seemed to be her favourite saying. Walking into a room full of cool people is the most intimidating experience I’ve ever had.

  The rich people were just that: too much money, not enough to do. And they all behaved as if they were still at boarding-school. However, I was almost as intimidated by them as I was by the cool people, although it was among their ranks that I was hoping to find love. Where did Katie fit into these two scenes? I don’t know. She said that she just went to the parties because she was invited, and the clubs always had a mixture of people anyway. Katie went because that’s what Katie did. She admitted her life was hugely shallow, but that was just the way it was.

  Sometimes I wished my life could be a little more shallow. Or perhaps it was. Although I seemed to have a catalogue of disasters as long as the M4 where men were concerned, I hadn’t met many. That was the problem I had identified. I just needed to meet more. The more I met, the more luck I was bound to have.

  We went to parties, we went to clubs, we went to bars, we went everywhere. It was exhausting, it was exhilarating, it was amusing, and it was sometimes disastrous. I embarked on a voyage of discovery: a voyage to discover all the eligible men in London. And discover them I did.

  One night, at a party full of rich people, I met Guy the Fascist. I had learned that to attract a rich man the best stance to take was one of the adoring but dumb woman. I was trying hard to do this as Guy told me he was in the army, ‘Gosh, you must be so strong;’ he came from Buckinghamshire, ‘Oh, that’s my favourite county,’ and that he collected classic cars, ‘Cars are so fascinating.’ I was doing a very good job, if I say so myself. But then he had to ruin it by saying that he thought all homeless people should be rounded up, put in a concentration camp and made to work producing things for the rest of society. It would solve the problem of people having to see them, it would clean up the streets and they’d be useful. I had been listening to this man for hours. I had given him my best dumb-bimbo act, and now I was ready to chop his balls off. In response I suggested using them to help the armed forces, sewing uniforms, making bombs, cheap labour for people like Guy. Of course, I said this in my best non-bimbo sarcastic voice. Guy missed the sarcasm, and told me that my idea was wonderful. He asked me if I fancied getting together to discuss it further.

  ‘Well, Guy, perhaps I’ll see you in hell.’ Leaving him looking confused I went home alone.

  At a trendy bar opening I met Sebastian. He wore black and looked like a tortured soul, creative, attractive. I decided that this time I would play interesting and amusing: creative people need stimulation. I spent all night talking about London, my jobs, Katie, me. He looked so amused, I was definitely giving the desired effect. Anyway, I was rather drunk and he was very flattering so when he suggested going back to his flat I almost ran there. Sebastian started to seduce me, and I was trying to get into it, but my head was spinning a bit. I could feel him stroking my leg, kissing my ear, undressing me. Then he got undressed. I tried to focus and I saw him naked. He had the biggest, most magnificent penis I had ever seen.

  My eyes widened. ‘It’s exquisite,’ I squeaked before I passed out.

  When I woke the next morning I was on the sofa with a blanket over me. There was a note on the coffee table, which read, ‘Hope you’re OK. You were so out of it, I decided to go out again and see if I could get luckier this time. If I’m not here, you’ll know I did. Love, Seb.’ I slunk home.

  When I told Katie about this, she found it hilarious. Especially when I told her about the size of his penis. ‘You were faced by the biggest penis you’ve ever been close to and you passed out?’ She couldn’t stop laughing. She said that I must be the worst person she’d ever met for attracting disaster. She was probably right. But I wasn’t to be deterred.

  At a club I met Toby, who was a bit older, about thirty. I decided that a nice mature man might just be what I needed. He was very slick: he said he drove a Lotus something, and I guessed I should be impressed so I was. He also said he ran his own company and had a house in Chelsea. He was perfect. Determined that this one wouldn’t get away, I flirted like I’d never flirted before. We danced, we chatted, we danced, we drank. I was having the most fun. At the end of the evening he asked if he could come back to my place. I thought about it, and decided that I would much rather see his house in Chelsea, so I said so. He went very quiet and said, no, that wouldn’t be a good idea. When I pushed him he admitted that his wife and baby were there. I made a swift exit.

  Then I met Neil, who was shorter than me, but never mind. Neil, who was the only man I’d met so far who seemed to want to have a future with me. Neil who told me, two hours after having met me, that he thought he might be in love with me. Neil, who had ginger hair and was really unattractive. I was desperate, but I did a runner anyway.

  At a ‘cool’ party I met Oliver, who said he was into bondage and asked if I would wear nipple clamps for him. Although I had no idea what a nipple clamp was, I declined the invitati
on.

  Due to my complete inability to find a man, Katie took matters into her hands and set me up on a blind date. Actually I think she did it to salvage her own sanity and who could blame her? God, I was excited. I asked Katie if I should carry a newspaper or wear a carnation, but she just shook her head. ‘I’ve told Barney what you look like. He’ll recognise you.’

  Barney was lovely, really lovely. He was cool, he was in TV, he was pretty damn gorgeous. And he became my first success in a while. He came back to my house, we had a great time and in the morning he promised he’d call me and see me again. The phone didn’t ring. I begged Katie to call him and find out why, but she said that wouldn’t do me any favours. I pleaded, but Barney was history. So were any more blind dates and Katie hung up her matchmaking hat.

  I returned to my own limited resources. I was still on a mission. My man mission, my love mission, my sex mission. My husband mission. I met Charlie, ‘call me Chaz, like the Daz’. The only thing I could grasp from my conversation with him was that he worked in the City, but would probably have been more at home hosting a game-show. I found him hard to understand: he insisted on speaking in riddles, or perhaps it was another language. I was trying so hard to concentrate on what he was saying, I had stopped thinking about my reason for being with him. Until he said to me, ‘Women love me, throw themselves at me. If you play your cards right, it could be your turn tonight. Do you feel lucky?’ I told him I felt very unlucky and beat a hasty retreat. I was doing what I wanted, I was meeting men. Unfortunately I wasn’t meeting the right sort of men.

  Rupert tried to talk to me about God. Robert tried to persuade me to go home with him and his friend. John told me I’d been his mother in a previous life, and would I let him suck my nipples? Brian was called Brian and I just couldn’t.

  Four weeks and five thousand men later, I was still well and truly single.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The handsome prince was appearing in an advert on television. It had been so well publicised that all the available women in London were told to watch at seven o’clock on Monday. At the appointed time, I took my position in front of the television set. When the prince appeared I could hardly believe my eyes. He was so gorgeous. He said that he had been at a trendy club and spotted a woman with whom he had fallen instantly in love. He had tried to get close to talk to her but she disappeared and the only thing she left behind was a shoe. Silly cow, I thought.

  Then the prince held up the shoe. Wow, it was made of glass and I recognised it. It was my shoe. When trying to catch the last bus home on Saturday night, I had lost it. Then the handsome prince said that he would marry whoever the shoe belonged to. The girl had to come to the palace on Tuesday and try it on. I took down the details. I went to get the other shoe to make sure, but I knew it was my shoe, and now I was going to be a princess.

  On Tuesday I dressed in my best outfit and went to the palace. Hundreds and hundreds of girls were lined up. I took my place in the queue. I wasn’t worried, I knew I’d be the winner. When my turn came, hours later, I went to put my foot in the shoe and it didn’t fit. This could not be.

  ‘Next,’ the footman shouted.

  I tried to protest. ‘It is my shoe, it is,’ I pleaded. But I was waved away.

  I went home shoeless and princeless. What could I do? It turned out that some stupid tart of a girl had made it fit her anyway and now my handsome prince was marrying Sharon from Essex.

  ***

  I was exhausted. The social life I had coveted for so long was making me tired and, believe it or not, more miserable. On the up-side I had Katie; on the down-side I had a permanent hangover. Katie was wise. She had started to value me, which made me feel good about myself for the first time in ages.

  She knew that she wouldn’t want to party for ever – ‘The shallow life will lose its appeal, believe me.’ She thought careers were pointless – ‘Why waste my life striving for something I’m going to have to give up when I’m sixty?’ And money was just a necessary evil – ‘I work therefore I eat and party.’ Katie was an education to me. Katie felt you could live your life how you wanted, as long as you could pay for it and you didn’t hurt other people. She said, ‘It’s fine to do what you want. It’s just that so many people don’t because they don’t know what they want. Most people don’t think, they just do, and they end up doing what they’ve been told to do.’ Hitting the nail on the head.

  ‘Think about it, I work, I party, I meet men, I sleep with men, I drink, I smoke dope. That’s the life I’ve chosen. But I’m not excessive or an addict, it’s controlled. People who start out like me and let things spiral out of control, they’re not making a decision to take drugs, they’re attracted to drugs because of other problems they have. They’re looking for escape. For me they’re a choice. People who are addicts will always think they were making a choice to have fun, but in fact, the drugs, or the drink or the gambling chose them. Take my mother, she’s a great example. She had problems – she must have done to drink so much – but instead of ever facing them, she drank. I will never be like her. My lifestyle is different. I know people disapprove of me but, then, I disapprove of people who drive Ford Escorts.’ The world according to Katie. She seemed so together, but it was time for me to find out more.

  ‘Katie, why do you party – you know, drink and drugs – when you’ve seen what they can do?’

  ‘I just explained that. My mother was an addict. It just happened to be drink. She would have found something else if it hadn’t been that. I can take it or leave it If I decided I wanted to give them up – I could, I really could. That’s because, as I said, I make a choice, it doesn’t choose me. But, well, if you really need to know, I have to prove to myself that I’m not my mother. If I was the sort of person who refused a drink just because of what it did to her it would show I’m scared of her and scared of it. I’m more intelligent than that.’

  ‘I understand.’ I think I did.

  ‘Ruth, you think you know what you want, but you’re confused. You want a man and you want love, you don’t want a job, you want security, but that’s your long term goal and in the short term you don’t know what you want. You kill time by partying with me but one day you’ll realise it’s not for you, and so will I.’

  ‘You make it sound simple.’

  ‘It is. Life can be as simple or as complicated as you want. If you hate your parents and your friends, get rid of them. If you hate your job, leave it. Too many people spend their time moaning about what they have instead of changing things. They complicate their life and moan about how hard-done-by they are.’

  ‘Sounds like me.’

  ‘No, because you’re going to stop doing that, it’s just a stage for you. One day you’ll wake up and know what you want to do next.’

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘Trust me. It will happen.’

  I know it sounds as if I’m trying to sell Katie to you, but that’s the way she was. Confident in an unaware sort of way. Magnetic in an unaware way. Special. Although at first the scales tilted in her favour, we had balanced our friendship. You see, she started to open up to me, told me her fears and her hopes, I was someone she was learning to trust. She told me she was scared that if she stopped partying there would be nothing in her life. She said that her lack of friends scared her – ‘although I’m fiercely independent, if I was murdered in my bed I wonder how long would it be before anyone went to the police. Weeks, I think.’ She told me she was glad she had me. For once in my life, I felt that someone needed me a bit. Our friendship had become more than just parties.

  Of course, my view was not shared by all. As my friendship with Katie grew and my social life grew, I was subject to disapproval from a number of sources. My friends. My mother.

  The first line of attack came from Jess. ‘Your behaviour isn’t normal.’

  ‘Oh, Jessie, what is normal? I go to work, I go out, that’s what people do, what you all told me to do.’

  ‘Ruth, going out is fin
e, working is fine, if you do it properly. You do neither properly.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Well, you don’t have a career, you just work, and you don’t just go out, you go out and get rip-roaringly drunk and leap on men.’

  ‘Well, when you put it like that … Jess, I have fun. Can’t you just be pleased?’

  ‘Oh, Ru, I’m pleased you’re happy, but your lifestyle, well, it can’t go on for ever. You need to do something more. Being a party girl can’t become your replacement for Ben.’

  ‘Can’t it?’

  ‘No. You can use it as a distraction, but it isn’t a long term solution. Not by any stretch of the imagination.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘You can’t just party for the rest of your life, or work in a cushy job where all you do is be hung-over.’

  ‘I can’t?’

  ‘No, and don’t give me this nonsense about you’ll stop when you get married because the way you’re carrying on no one will marry you.’

  ‘They won’t?’

  ‘No. You mark my words.’ Jess swept out of the room looking triumphant. The trouble was she had failed to realise that advice, although often given, is rarely taken.

  The others had their opinions too. Sarah said my work would suffer, Sophie thought I’d been meeting too many undesirable men, Thomas just thought that letting me out at all was dangerous, and they held Katie responsible for all of this. It was her fault. You would have thought that Katie was the devil, and I was the person the devil had kidnapped. They tried to persuade me to stay away from her, but they couldn’t. I knew they cared about me, but sometimes they had a strange way of showing it. They couldn’t understand that, if I was going to do all those things, I didn’t need Katie to corrupt me.

  My mother, who knew little about my new life, called me at work and demanded to know why I was never at home. She said it was unhealthy for a young girl to be out having fun. Didn’t I know there was more to life? I should be planning my career not chasing men. She said that a woman who preferred a man to a career needed her head looked at. My mother should have given birth to Jess or Sarah. I tried to convince her that the whole point of being young was to have fun. My arguments fell on deaf ears. As a last resort I told her I was sorry to be a disappointment to her but I loved her and she was a wonderful role model and I admired her life. Then she said she loved me too and she was sorry, she just wanted me to be happy. I assured her I was, and told her to stop worrying. We parted well. I decided that I should visit my parents soon and I asked Jess if she wanted to be adopted.