by Isabel Wolff
‘The other thing,’ I said, ‘and this is the main reason for my coming here – is that three months ago I had this …terrible experience. I was getting married you see and …and …’
‘Yes?’ said Elaine encouragingly.
‘In fact …it was my wedding day …and …’
Oh God, this was so embarrassing. Especially in front of Joe. I could feel my heart pound and the heat rise to my face.
‘What happened?’ David asked gently.
‘My fiancé ran off,’ I replied. ‘In church. Just as we were about to make our vows.’
‘My God!’ said the woman who suffered from party-bores. The others were all staring, dumbfounded, and shaking their heads. I glanced at Joe. But he didn’t look shocked at all. He obviously knew all about it, from Helen. And that made me feel a bit odd, to think that I’d been the subject of a conversation between Helen and Joe.
‘What a dreadful thing,’ said Elaine.
‘It was,’ I said bleakly. ‘It was terrible. And it’s only really now that I’m beginning to try and find out why it happened.’
‘Why do you think it happened?’ Elaine enquired.
‘I don’t really know. That’s what’s so awful. That’s what makes it even harder to get over. Because I don’t know the answer to that. Perhaps I never will. Because I’m too proud to get in touch with my fiancé again, after what he did to me. And he’s never contacted me to even try and explain. All I can tell you is that he just – ran off. In front of two hundred and eighty people.’ My throat was aching. The carpet had begun to blur. Joe passed me a tissue. That was nice of him. Especially as I hadn’t been very friendly in Paris.
‘Carry on, Minty,’ said Elaine quietly.
‘Well, it was a massive shock,’ I continued. ‘And I’m trying to get over it. I’m trying to rationalise it. Because otherwise I know I won’t be able to move on. And I think maybe the reason why it happened is because I’d allowed Dominic – that’s his name – to push me around so much before …’
‘He was domineering, was he?’ asked David.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Extremely. And I think because I’d never set parameters with him – I didn’t like to, you see – I subconsciously gave him permission to do anything he liked. Even to jilt me. I think that’s a big part of it. He had all the power. And so I’ve come to realise that at work, and in my relationships, I need to set boundaries. To keep a bit of power for myself. But however hard I try, I find it almost impossible to do. Anyway, that’s why I’m here.’ Thank God. It was over. Now they knew.
‘Thank you for being so honest, Minty,’ said David. ‘We’ll work on that with you today. But first, Joe, please introduce yourself and explain why you decided to do this course.’
I looked at him. He was wearing off-white chinos and a crumpled checkered shirt, and deck shoes with no socks. He hadn’t shaved. His hair had been cut very short. And though I knew Helen was seeing him, I was also aware, in an academic kind of way, that I found him a very attractive man.
‘My name’s Joe Bridges and I’m a writer,’ he began.
I saw Amber’s face tense up and her eyes rise to the ceiling.
‘I’ve adapted my first novel into a screenplay, which I’m trying to sell,’ Joe went on quietly. ‘And I’ve just sacked my agent, because he’d made some serious contractual errors. So I’ve decided I’m going to do things on my own. And getting a film project off the ground is notoriously difficult. So I thought this course might give me some psychological armour to deal with the tough times ahead.’
‘Good,’ said David. ‘And now, we’re going to stand up for the first exercise, which we call the “Nice-Nasty Circle”. What happens is that we each say one nice thing to each other, then one nasty thing. And the nasty thing can be as insulting as you like.’
‘Now, Minty,’ said Elaine, who had caught my appalled expression. ‘That feeling you’ve just had about not being nice, that sinking of the heart, that fear of giving offence, that’s what we’re going to be dealing with here, OK?’
‘OK,’ I said, nervously, though my pulse was racing and my face was hot. We stood in a circle, smiling nervously at each other, then David started it off. He was standing next to Elaine. And I was between her and Joe.
‘You’ve got lovely blue eyes,’ David said to the party-bore magnet whose name was Anne. Then he turned to Elaine. ‘And you’ve got appalling dress sense!’
‘But I think your dress sense is wonderful,’ she replied serenely. ‘That shirt really suits you, David.’ Then she turned to me, and looked me up and down. It was excruciating. I braced myself for her insult as I might brace myself for a bomb. But suddenly Amber intervened:
‘Look,’ she said. ‘Sorry to interrupt, but I don’t think you should be too nasty to Minty because, actually, it’s her birthday today.’ I threw my eyes to the ceiling. I could see that Elaine was struggling to control herself.
‘Amber,’ she said slowly, ‘this is only an exercise, OK? Right, Minty. A very happy birthday. And now I’m going to say something unpleasant. Ready?’
‘Ready,’ I said, as she scrutinised me once more.
‘You’re terribly scrawny, aren’t you?’ she said. ‘Don’t you think you’re too thin?’ That was it. Phew. Could have been a lot worse. My turn now. I had to say something nice back to her, because she’d just been nasty to me. I looked at her. Large hazel eyes. Quite tall. Nice dress. Oh God. What on earth could I pick?
‘I really like your earrings,’ I said. ‘They’re very attractive and unusual.’ Then I turned and looked at Joe. I had to say something unpleasant to him. How embarrassing. I’d much rather be insulted than dish out insults myself. My heart was thumping so loud I was sure everyone could hear it. I looked at his handsome face, his open expression and his short dark hair which was receding slightly into a widow’s peak. He was smiling at me. He was smiling because he was embarrassed because he knew I was about to say something rude.
‘Er …you’re starting to lose your hair,’ I said. His face fell a mile, and I felt sick.
‘Oh God, did I hurt your feelings?’ I asked. ‘I’m really sorry. It isn’t really receding, you know, only a tiny bit, and most men lose a little at the front, don’t they, so I really wouldn’t worry abou-’
‘Minty, this is only role-play,’ said David. ‘I don’t think you really hurt Joe’s feelings.’
‘Yes she did,’ he said. ‘I’m shattered. I’m heartbroken!’ Then he grinned. And I relaxed. And now he had to pay me a compliment, when I’d just been nasty to him. Poor chap. He looked me up and down for what seemed like ages, biting thoughtfully on his lower lip. And then he said, ‘I think you’re very pretty, Minty.’ My God! I felt a punch of adrenaline and the blood rushed to my face. I’d better not tell Helen he’d said that. Still, it was only an exercise. He didn’t mean it. He was looking at Amber now. ‘And you’re too tall,’ he announced.
‘And you’re too short,’ she spat. ‘And your book’s crap, by the way. Complete crap! And what’s more-’
‘Amber, you’re supposed to say something nice to Joe,’ said Elaine.
‘Why?’ she whined. ‘He’s just been horrible to me.’
‘Exactly. And that’s what “nice” people do,’ she explained. ‘People are rude to them, but they say something nice back. People hurt them, and they’re the ones who apologise. Because nice people take the blame. So please say something complimentary.’
‘OK. Well …’ Amber smiled, as she tried to think of something. ‘I think your book’s really sweet,’ she said.
Sweet? That wasn’t a compliment at all! Then Amber turned to Ronnie.
‘And you’re a pathetic WIMP if you can’t even get your own secretary to do the bloody photocopying.’
Ronnie blenched. Then swallowed. ‘And you’re a refreshingly forthright young woman,’ he said, by way of a compliment.
On it went, until the circle was complete, and then we went round again the other way. At first, we all see
med to find the exercise excruciating. Our insults were accompanied by stifled giggles and red faces, averted eyes and shuffling feet. But then, thanks to Amber, everyone got into their stride – and soon the slights were flying like surface-to-air missiles.
‘– your shoes are filthy!’
‘– your teeth are a mess!’
‘– I hate your voice.’
‘– your ears are huge!’
‘– you’re too fat!’
‘– what a cruddy tie!’
So it was rather strange, when, at lunchtime, we all reverted back to type, competing to fetch and carry, and pass each other things and look after each other in the way that nice people do.
‘– After you with the water.’
‘– Oh, of course. Terribly sorry – I was hogging it.’
‘– Another piece of bread for anyone?’
‘– Well, yes, but what about you?’
‘– Does anyone mind if I have this last lettuce leaf?’
‘– Oh no, no, not at ALL!’
Excessive consideration can be so wearing. Joe came and sat next to me.
‘Would you help me with my insults, please, Minty,’ he said, as he picked up his knife and fork. ‘I’m not very good at being nasty.’
‘I thought you were doing OK,’ I said.
‘Oh no, I really found it very difficult. I think I need a little extra practice.’
‘Um. OK, then,’ I said, cautiously.
‘Right. Your hair’s a mess, Minty.’
Oh. Thanks very much.
‘And your shirt’s horrible,’ I replied.
‘Your face is perfect for radio!’ Bloody cheek!
‘And you’re crap at table football!’
‘Oxfam suits you so well,’ he said, but by now he was smiling.
‘Your teeth remind me of Stonehenge!’ I pointed out pleasantly.
‘Your hair’s much too long.’ He was grinning now.
‘Your aftershave smells like cat’s piss!’ I smiled. He was looking at me, out of the corner of his eye. He was thinking up something really awful. And though he was trying to look serious, he was stifling laughter.
‘You’re a big fatso – don’t you ever stop eating?’
And I laughed too. Though it was true. I had eaten quite a lot. For the first time in three months.
‘You’re quite right,’ I said. ‘I’m stuffed!’
‘The Full Minty,’ he quipped, with a smile. And then he poured me some coffee.
‘How’s Helen?’ I asked.
‘She’s fine,’ he said.
‘She was my bridesmaid,’ I added ruefully.
‘Yes,’ said Joe, ‘I know.’ And I found myself wondering what else he knew about my disastrous wedding day.
The afternoon session began with role-play. Joe role-played being in Hollywood, convincing a famous film director of the merits of his script. And every time the director said ‘no’, Joe would have to turn it round, by sheer persistence, and get him to say ‘yes’. It took him five or six tries. But he got there. And then it was Anne’s turn.
‘You get mugged, socially,’ said David. ‘You’ve got this “I’m a nice person” expression on your face, so life’s losers and the walking wounded stick to you like flies.’ He then role-played a party-bore.
‘Tell him you find him boring,’ prompted Elaine, as David wittered away.
‘I can’t,’ Anne said, ‘it’s rude.’
‘Go on. Get rid of him.’
‘But I might hurt his feelings,’ she wailed.
‘Just do it. Say something that will put him off!’
Within ten minutes Anne had graduated from, ‘Well, it was very nice talking to you …’ and, ‘Excuse me, I must find the loo,’ to, ‘You’re a human anaesthetic. I am not remotely interested in what you’re saying. I’m going to talk to that fabulous-looking man standing by the olives.’ We all cheered.
‘But I couldn’t really say that,’ she said, as she sat down.
‘No, you couldn’t,’ said David. ‘But if you practise being rude, if you play at it in your mind, then your body language will change and the social muggers won’t find you such easy prey.’
Then it was me. Joe had to pretend he was Wesley, constantly whining at me for help. And I had to say politely, but very firmly, ‘no’. But I found this rather difficult because the fact was that by now I thought Joe was really rather nice and so I didn’t want to refuse him. Then David made me do some role-play about Dominic. I had to pretend that he was screaming at me about my clothes, shouting at me for wearing the ‘wrong coat for the country’ – that was a favourite complaint – or wearing something he disliked. And instead of saying, ‘Oh, OK then. Anything for a quiet life,’ I’d be shouting: ‘No, I won’t bloody well change my clothes, you domineering, inadequate, shallow BASTARD!’ And everyone was clapping and laughing and cheering. And it was very funny. Terribly funny. And then I burst into tears. And it wasn’t quite so funny any more.
‘Well, it’s working,’ said David, after a minute. Joe looked upset. And I thought that was nice. Because, let’s face it, he hardly knew me. And then we had to do an exercise where we were all seated in front of a big blank blackboard, and we could draw, or write on it anything we liked. Anything at all. One by one we all went up. Amber drew her initials and a book. Then I did my usual doodle, of a big, closed box, with a dot trapped inside. And Joe had got up, and drawn on to it two windows, and an opening door. And then he’d added a roof, the sun, and some flowers. And when I saw him do that, I felt something in me …unfurl. And the tightening screw in my chest relaxed.
Finally, we came to the end of the day. We all had to give each other advice, one by one, to help us find the way forward.
‘Take yourself back,’ said Joe, simply, when it came to my turn.
‘– throw out the clothes Dominic made you wear,’ said Anne.
‘– buy new things, things you know he’d hate.’
‘– No, just buy whatever you like!’
‘– Do something radical – change your life.’
‘– Remember who you are!’
Who you are?
‘I’m Irene Araminta Malone,’ I said.
‘I-A-M?’ said Joe. ‘I am.’
‘I really got a lot out of that course,’ said Amber happily, as we made our way back to Primrose Hill on the bus. ‘No more Mrs Nice Guy. No more accepting a pile of shit from men, or allowing my publishers to neglect me. I’m really not putting up with it any more. I’m going to change, Minty. Change! Minty, you haven’t said a thing – are you listening?’
‘What? Sorry – no, I shouldn’t say sorry, should I – er, I didn’t hear what you said, I was thinking.’ I was slowly working something out. I’d had a mental breakthrough, you see. An epiphany. A revelation. A Damascene flash. And now I knew why Dominic had done what he’d done. I was right. It was because I was too nice. So he’d lost all respect. Doing the course had shown me this. Seeing everyone being so nice. It was pathetic. It was pathetic that they couldn’t stand up for themselves. Or, worse, that they could stand up for themselves – they all knew how – but had been too nice, too weak, rather, to do it. And the reason why they didn’t was fear of rejection. Being nice was a kind of insurance policy. And though I understood it, because I’m like that myself, I couldn’t respect it at all. And that’s what had happened to me. I now saw that I had been nice to Dominic – but in a negative way. Jumping to it every time he barked, simply in order to avoid a conflict. Meekly doing what he said, to earn his approval and keep things ‘nice’. How abject! I was appalled. Seeing my behaviour objectified like that had shocked me to my core. I’d been an independent, confident person when he met me, and look what I’d become! A spineless people-pleaser. A wimp. A sap. And so Dominic had lost all respect. I didn’t blame him now. I blamed myself. It was my fault, I now realised. That’s why he’d dumped me. Because he no longer had any respect for me. He’d taken one look at me in church, wearing a dress
that he had picked out, and he knew he just couldn’t go ahead.
Now, I’m not letting him off the hook here, you understand, because what he did was terrible. But I was involved in it, because I didn’t have to let him do it. And so at last I understood. I could see that I was largely to blame. And perhaps, armed with this new self-knowledge, I’d be able to start moving on.
‘Minty,’ said Amber, ‘what are you thinking?’
‘Oh nothing,’ I said. ‘Nothing.’ I didn’t want to tell her my theory – she never agrees with me. Anyway, I was ashamed of it. I was ashamed to acknowledge what a meek, compliant creature I’d become.
‘I feel inspired,’ said Amber, as we got off the bus. ‘I really feel uplifted by what I’ve learnt.’
I felt uplifted too. By what I’d discovered about myself. And I realised how vital it was for me to be more assertive. To say what I really wanted. To set boundaries. So now I felt emboldened to bring up a subject with Amber that I’d been hitherto afraid to discuss. And that was how long she was going to stay. It had been almost three months. And in the beginning she’d told me she was only going to stay for a few days. And my flat’s full of her things. The half-landing’s choked with her furniture, and there’s stuff spilling out of her room. And although I’m very fond of her, it was beginning to get me down.
‘Amber,’ I said, as she turned the key in the lock.
‘Yes.’
‘Amber …how much longer do you think …um …you’ll be staying with me?’
She looked at me. Oh God. Oh God. I should have kept my big trap shut. There’d be an awful scene now. I’d hurt her. I’d made her feel rejected. My face flushed red, and I instantly regretted having mentioned it.
‘How long am I going to be staying with you?’ she repeated.
‘Yes,’ I said, my heart pounding. ‘How long?’ To my astonishment she broke into an enormous smile, then flung her arms round me.
‘Oh, Minty,’ she exclaimed. ‘Just as long as you want me to!’