by Ben Thomas
I don’t know where I would be placed on the handsome and confidence scale. When I was younger and at school there were times I believed that I scored fairly highly on both fronts. I got my fair share of attention from the females and I think it is fair to say I was popular. I was in the top set for every subject without really trying too hard and I was captain of the rugby and cricket teams, so there was no obvious reason why I wouldn’t be pleased with myself. Now I don’t recognise that person. Am I good looking? Well, my features haven’t changed that much. I have short cropped dark hair, which goes kind of curly when I let it grow, as opposed to the seagull-style centre parting that I somehow believed was cool back then. I have more facial hair as I sport permanent three-day stubble. I am still tall, roughly six foot, and I no longer battle acne, so I should consider myself better looking now, but I can honestly say that the opposite sex have not formed an orderly queue.
What I am lacking is confidence. I simply don’t give myself a chance to believe in myself. You don’t realise how powerful confidence is until you lose it. Those who have got it, and have always had it, know no other way and so take it for granted. Those who have never had it don’t realise what a difference it can make. To lose it, though, is like losing the golden ticket. Confidence transforms the average looking into the most attractive; it turns the average ability into world beaters. With it you never doubt yourself: you believe you can, you believe it is obvious that you will succeed, and because you believe with such certainty, other people are convinced, and in turn believe in you.
The confident person believes in the face of any contrary evidence that everything will go their way and thus creates a self-fulfilling prophecy. Without the fuel of confidence, though, there is nothing to power hope and ambition and so a belief system develops where you think everything is going to go wrong. Though in reality this may be untrue, your lack of will turns this untruth into a truth in your mind. Steve possesses this confidence, and this makes me worry that tonight may be the night that Julie believes in him too.
I got up to get my round in. The bar was now heaving and throbbing with inebriated patrons getting sweatier and louder and more rambunctious by the minute. It was a night where you had to shout to make yourself heard, even though your companion was right by you, and where, after having already used the word ‘pardon’ twice, you had to pretend you’d heard what was being shouted at you, nod and smile, say ‘yes’ or ‘mmm’, and hope you’d used these responses appropriately and not smiled and nodded when you were being told something like they suspected their partner was having an affair or, even worse, that they had developed a mystery rash down below. It was also one of those nights when you had to fight to get to the bar and where all social norms and etiquette went out of the window. Getting served was always easier for those good looking and confident people. By now I was feeling inebriated and had been approaching happy drunk, but I could sense my mood turning sour as I seemed to grow invisible, getting pushed further away from the bar staff. I was just thinking it was more akin to a rugby scrum when, bang on cue, a prop forward of a man forced his way past me and was getting served before I had a chance to work out whether I was angry enough or drunk enough to stand up for myself. I decided enough was enough and muscled my way past the obstacles to tackle the prop.
“Excuse me, mate. There’s a queue, you know?!” The bull turned around with a big smile on his face that instantly transported me back in time.
“Hope you don’t mind, big T, but I thought you might need some help getting served. You appeared to be taking your time and I think your friends are getting a bit thirsty.” We both looked back to my colleagues who were looking back at us miming a gasping action. “The round, along with bonus sambucas, is on its way back to them courtesy of Lucy and, of course, my good self.”
Satisfaction massaged his face as he watched Lucy, the barmaid, deliver the bounty before turning back to me. “So how are you, T-bone?” I had recognised Bobby straight away, even though it had been more than ten years since we had last seen each other. Bobby was ever so slightly taller than me, and ever so wider. He had dark, spiky hair on top of the friendliest of faces and was wearing a navy pinstriped suit with braces gallantly holding up his trousers. If I hadn’t recognised him from his appearance, I would have remembered him by his propensity to take my initial and mould it into various different nicknames which to him alone were hilarious.
“Yeah...yeah, I’m good. Wow, Bobby, good to see you. How long has it been?”
“You know it’s been too long, and before you say it, yes I know I look great.”
“Well yeah, Bobby, obviously you have taken the words out of my mouth.” Most observers might not necessarily have used the adjective ‘great’ to describe how Bobby looked unless they were describing his size, but Bobby believed it, and as I was saying earlier, that would mean enough other people would join him in believing it.
“So what you been up to, Mr T?” I haven’t seen you turning out for England at Twickers so I assume you’re the CEO of a FTSE 100 company?”
“Erm, not quite, Bob. What you been up to?” Deflection – it’s a vital skill.
“I’m in the recruitment game. Got my own company if you don’t mind, living the dream as you would expect.” Bobby, one of life’s optimists, was always ‘living the dream’.
“So you in touch with any of the old gang?” I asked.
“Oh yeah, I keep in touch with most of the guys via this amazing thing known as social media, which you’ve clearly never heard of. I see a few of them face to face quite regularly, which is more than I can say for you. You’ve been a ghost since we left school. Everyone’s been wondering what they did to offend you and what made you so angry at them. Well, I know I wouldn’t have done anything.” Bobby knitted his eyebrows and gave me a mock serious stare.
What do they think you’ve accused them of?
A chill came over me and I shuddered.
They’ll be angry at you because you’ve accused them.
“No, no one’s done anything to offend me, that’s ridiculous. No one really thinks that, do they? Why would I be angry at them? What have people been saying?”
“Don’t be daft. No one’s been saying anything, and no one thinks you’re angry at them. Well maybe after your first couple of years of exile, but we’ve all had a while to get used to your absence. Seriously though, where have you been?”
“I’ve been nowhere.” Literally. “I’m sorry, Bobby, I’m embarrassed to say it, but I’m just bad at keeping in touch.” I was embarrassed.
“Yes, you should be ashamed of yourself for not being able to use social media. I’ve tried looking you up loads of times over the years but nothing. No problem though as serendipity is in attendance and the timing is perfect. There’s a big reunion organised for next Saturday at the Empress Hotel and you are going to be the unexpected guest of honour. I was going to bring a beautiful lady, but instead you can be my plus one. Everyone will be dying to see you. Shall I pick you up at half six or seven?”
This was a bombshell, exploding years of doubts and fears and anxieties. It had felt good and natural speaking to Bobby, just like the old days, but this announcement about a reunion set the alarm bells ringing at an unbearable volume. I couldn’t handle seeing my friends again. Friends? How could they describe me as a friend after all these years? Plus, even worse, Bobby had used one of the words and this was augmenting my distress, confirming that I could not go.
“Toby?”
“Sorry, Bobby, it’s been great seeing you tonight and I’d love to go, but I can’t. I’ve got something on next weekend.”
“What? Come on, T-Zone, what could be more important or more exciting than spending an evening with me and your old pals. They will be desperate to see how Captain T Kirk has been getting on.”
“I know, and I’d love to; honestly.” This was partly true, I would love to see them and I
would love to allow myself to see them, but I knew it couldn’t happen.
You can’t go, it’s been too long. They know something’s wrong with you. Bobby knows, he can hear your thoughts. Don’t think bad about him. He knows you’ve crossed him. You have let them down. Stay away, stay away.
“It’s been too long, Bobby.”
“Of course it’s been too long, that’s why it’s a reunion.” Bobby wasn’t giving up. He looked at me with ridiculous puppy dog eyes designed to make me feel guilty. It was working.
“Ok, I’ll see what I can do. Next Saturday, right?”
Bobby had quickly reverted to his trademark smile and nodded.
“Okay, Bobby, maybe I’ll see you there.”
“You will see me there,” Bobby said as he took his mobile out of his suit jacket pocket. “What are your digits? Feels a bit strange to be asking a man for his number at this stage of the night. Usually I’d be taking the number of a beautiful lady, but tonight it’s a beautiful man, eh T?”
I couldn’t give him my number. It just didn’t feel right. “Bloody hell, Bob, I don’t know my number. I mean, why would I? I never ring myself.”
“You never ring anyone!” Bobby retorted. “It’s okay, get your phone out. Here’s my number.” He handed me a business card. “Ring me now and I’ll save your number.”
“I…erm, I haven’t brought my phone out tonight. I forgot it.” This was an outright lie which I wasn’t proud of. Bobby clearly saw through my weak attempt at dissembling as he directed his eyes to just below my belt and his smile wavered just for a moment as he noticed a swell in my trouser pocket.
“Just pleased to see me then, are you? Well, if you’re that pleased to see me, you should be happy to join me next week. If I didn’t know myself better, I’d say you were trying to avoid me, but then again you’ve been doing that for the past fifty years.” Bobby was chiding me now, but his smile was fixed and there was warmth coming from him. “Never mind. You’ve got my card now. When you next find your phone, perhaps in your trouser pocket, the very trousers you’ve got on right now, get in contact and we’ll arrange next week.”
“Sure Bobby.” I held the card in front of my face and made a show of taking in the number.
“Right, my good man, I need to jet. Got to get back to my party and you need to get back to yours, and I’d hurry if I was you. The hot redhead is giving you the look.”
“What? Julie? What look?” I asked, truly bemused.
“The look. I know the look when I see it. As you no doubt know, I myself am frequently on the receiving end of said look. And yes, I’ll be honest, I had assumed that she was giving the look to me. But I have to give this one to you; she’s definitely giving you the prize. It appears that you’ve still got it after all these years.” Bobby was looking far too excited on my behalf.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Julie’s not interested in me, we’re friends. Besides she’s been cosying up to my mate Steve.”
“There’s only one guy she wants to be cosying up to and it’s not your mate. She was giving him a rocket when I went over before, to ask what your round was. T, you know I have a gift when it comes to the ladies. I know how to read them, and I’m reading this one loud and clear. She is giving you permission to come aboard.” Bobby finished admiring Julie, put his tongue away and turned back to me. “Right. I’ll see you next week, and don’t use up all your energy with sweet cheeks over there.”
I shook Bobby’s hand. “See you, Bobby. And mate, it really is good to see you again”
“Well the good news is we won’t have to wait another fifty years to do it again. Speak to you in the week to arrange Saturday.” And with that, Bobby strutted away as only he knew how.
As I made my way back to our table, my mind was racing. I mean, what were the chances of meeting with Bobby? When I got back, my pint from my round was waiting for me, courtesy of Bobby. I hadn’t even thanked him for his generosity.
He’s going to go and tell everyone how selfish and ungrateful you are. You know he will.
No, that’s not true, Bobby knows me, I’ll thank him when I see him.
I fingered the card Bobby had placed in my hand. I’d text him to say thanks, simple.
But then he’ll have your number and you don’t want that.
I couldn’t have Bobby thinking badly of me. I know I’m not a selfish or ungrateful person and I wanted people to know that, and in that moment me thinking or more accurately him telling me that Bobby would think badly of me was occupying all my attention, along with the thought that Bobby would be telling everyone that he met up with me and I was a selfish ungrateful prick.
“Oi oi, here he is. Come on, shandy boy, down your shot. You’re still playing catch up.” My anxiety was shoved to one side by Steve’s pronouncement.
I grabbed the shot and threw it down my throat in the heroic way you’re meant to in these circumstances, triumphantly raising the shot glass above my head to whooping and cheering from the table. It really is amazing how much excitement the downing of a shot can create in a drinking party. Still, I was happy to take any acclaim I could.
“While you’re on a roll Toby, you can down this one,” came the authoritative voice of Rory as he arrived from the bar with another round of shots, “and the same for the rest of you.” Cue more whooping and hollering as everyone picked up their glasses and downed them. Rory duly joined in, downing his glass of water.
“Come and sit next to me, dark horse.”
“What?” I said, widening my eyes in response to Julie.
“Oh, your friend and our new best friend, after he introduced himself and took our drinks order, he was telling us all about you, whilst you were taking an eternity at the bar.” Julie had an interesting grin on her face that I was struggling to decipher.
What’s he been saying about you?
“What’s he been saying?” I fretted.
“Oh, nothing much. Just how you were quite the jock at school, head boy, the star sportsman, the ladies’ man, the one all the girls fancied…second to him, he said. He made out that you were some sort of hero. I said he must have got you mixed up with someone else but no, he insisted that ‘T-bone’ was quite the man.” Julie’s eyes were glowing and for some reason her hand was resting on my knee. Now I’m no expert, and I haven’t had a particularly spectacular track record with the opposite sex in recent years…and I’m certainly not as good at reading women as Bobby evidently was, but I had the distinct feeling that Julie was flirting with me and even possibly giving me the ‘look.’ So, like the budding lothario that I obviously wasn’t, I decided to respond and take control of the situation in the way a real man would.
“So what you up to this weekend, Rory? Doing anything nice with the family?”
Rory didn’t need a second invitation to start talking about his family; he took the cue to tell us all about his son and daughter and how they were the best thing to happen to him. I listened along with everyone else, and as I drank I felt a real sense of warmth towards Rory. I felt so pleased that this man, one of life’s good guys, had found contentment in his life, and I wondered if I would ever find that in my own life.
The night continued, and so did the drinking. Strangely Julie continued to flirt with me. Eventually, people started saying their goodbyes and Julie told me that I was walking her home. At that moment, the surprise and nervousness that this announcement provoked conspired with the already present alcohol in my belly to invite the distinct and unwanted feeling that I was going to be sick.
“Just give me a minute,” I barely managed to mutter before urgently diverting to the gents and celebrating the fact that there was an empty cubicle by redecorating the porcelain. One of my old mates would often happily allow himself to be sick in the middle of a drinking session, ‘a tactical chunder’ he called it, as it allowed him to carry on drinking. I had no intention of carrying
on drinking tonight, because I hoped to walk Julie home successfully. As I rose from my knees I felt reinvigorated, and the not insignificant alcohol I still had in my system was giving me plenty of encouragement.
“Bloody hell, shandy boy, are you alright?” Steve had looks of concern and amusement see-sawing on his face. “If you’re not feeling well enough, or dare I say it, if you’re not feeling up to the job, then I can take over with Julie for you.”
“It’s okay, youngster, just using my experience with a quick tactical chunder and now I’m ready to fulfil my duties,” I said with ill-fitting bravado.
“That’s what I like to hear. You should get leathered more often, mate. You’d better get back out there. She’s worried about you, sent me in to check you were okay. Anyway, you lucky sod, you’d better not blow it. I’ll be expecting to hear all the details on Monday.”
“Steve, unlike you, I am a gentleman and I will be fulfilling my duties by walking the lovely Julie home, nothing more, nothing less,” I said with a wink, which I immediately felt embarrassed by. If I had been the recipient of such a wink I would have considered the winker to be a bit of a wanker. Even so, I felt good and so forgave myself this token braggadocio as I returned to Julie armed with a massive smile.
“Wow, Toby, a minute ago I thought you were out of action. I sent Steve in because I thought you were being sick or something. It’s not the reaction I expect when I ask someone to safeguard me home. Now you look like the cat who’s got the cream. Well just so you know, you haven’t got the cream…” In an instant Julie caused the wind that had been billowing my hopes to subside, before she teasingly added “Yet!”
As it turned out I didn’t walk Julie home as Julie hailed a cab and ushered her long legs elegantly in before grabbing my tie and pulling me in with the words, “You didn’t really think you were just going to walk me home, did you?” Before I had a chance to answer, we were kissing in a way that I had almost forgotten existed.