‘I wanted to say again,’ I tell him, ‘how much I appreciated you making sure I got home alright that Friday when we matched.’
‘It’s no biggie,’ he says, but he puffs up a little. He’s definitely pleased as punch about how well he played that particular card. ‘Had it been a good evening?’
‘Yeah… I mean, it was a leaving do at work. My friend left to go travelling, so… bittersweet. Happy for him but also, sad for me.’
‘So where did you say you worked?’ he asks. ‘I think you mentioned a media agency.’
‘I did. Viral Hive,’ I say.
He sits back in his chair. ‘Very cool,’ he says. ‘What do you do there?’
‘I make videos and write features, mainly,’ I say. ‘And I manage three content creators, and we—’
‘Create content?’ he asks.
‘Bingo!’
His face changes. ‘Hey, do you work with the girl who wrote that piece about that date.’
Oh, shit. This is new, and yet, subconsciously I’ve been waiting for it. His tone suggests incredulity rather than awe. Tread carefully here, Fran, old girl.
‘I know of her,’ I say. ‘But we’re not close. Why?’
‘Bit of a shitty thing to do, don’t you think?’
‘Yeah, he was the worst… apparently.’
‘No… broadcasting it to the world.’
‘Do you think that was shittier than demanding reimbursement when she didn’t want to go on elsewhere? Shittier than being called a slut? Shittier than him swiping through Tinder when she went to the loo?’
I know I need to calm myself and I take a breath and a sip of my wine to break up my rant.
‘None of it was good behaviour, granted. But calling him out so publicly. That’s going to damage an ego.’
‘Interesting take,’ I say, and crunch down on a deep fried noodle. Joshua sits back. Is he really siding with Louis? It’s a giant red flag.
‘All I’m saying is, I couldn’t date someone who did that to me.’ He shakes his head and momentarily looks annoyed.
And that’s the second I realise that Joshua, however nice he’s been up until now, is never going to be my boyfriend. And I also realise that if my writing that piece has bothered Joshua, then it’s going to have bothered a lot of people, and that if I’m ever to meet anyone, I absolutely need to keep it under my hat.
‘I mean, a lot of good came out of it, as well, though. It’s sparked a lot of conversations about app dating and what is and isn’t acceptable, as well as the expectations we put on people when we first meet them. And not to mention the fundraiser.’
‘What sort of expectations are those?’ Joshua asks, and I notice he’s completely ignored the charity we just raised a lot of money for.
‘Well, you know, things like whether we should expect to see people exclusively right from the off, or if it’s okay to date a number of people for a while.’
‘And what is your stance?’
‘I think… it’s okay at first to keep an eye on what else is out there. But if you know you’re on to a good thing and you’d like to carry on seeing someone, a conversation needs to happen pretty early on about… well, you know, not dating other people.’
‘Fair, fair,’ he says. He looks like he’s contemplating it, but I can’t tell for sure what he’s thinking.
‘What about you?’ I venture.
‘I… don’t date exclusively.’
‘What, ever?’ I ask.
‘Not really. I would identify as poly.’
Oh of fucking course he’s poly. He’s having his cake and bloody eating it, too. And then he’s reaching for another slice.
‘Oh, wow. Okay. I mean, that’s a bombshell.’
‘Is it?’
‘Well, yes. I mean, it’s quite the lifestyle choice. Didn’t you think to mention it?’
‘I’m mentioning it now, aren’t I?’
‘I guess you are. So, how many women are you seeing at the moment?’
‘Is this a problem for you, Fran?’
‘Not sure yet,’ I say. It’s a lie. Or it would be if I was interested, but I’ve already decided I’m not and now I’m just mainly curious.
‘I’m seeing a couple of women regularly.’
‘Do they know about each other?’
‘Of course. It’s all about transparency, being honest and open.’
‘For sure. I would think that’s the most important thing. Do they have other partners?’
‘No,’ he says. ‘Neither of them identify as poly.’
‘Wait, what? Isn’t it a cuts-both-ways sort of deal?’
‘No, Fran,’ he sighs. Sighs! ‘Because they know about each other and they’re cool with it.’
‘Fascinating,’ I say. ‘I take it you wouldn’t mind if they had other partners?’
He looks a bit shifty. ‘I don’t think I’d love it,’ he says, a little hypocritically, I think. Still, at least he’s being honest. ‘But if we talked about it, who knows?’
‘But… what – and I realise this might sound a little crass – but what makes you so special that you’ve managed to get women to agree to this if they’re not into it themselves?’
‘I’ve got a really big dick,’ he grins, and I wince. Partly because, well, Jesus, and partly because those words sound so weird coming from his mouth. Alright, time to wind this up.
‘Oh, Joshua,’ I say, and then stop. I feel like I’ve somehow entered some sort of parallel universe because this is not the same Joshua who flirted with me over text on Friday night, but never once stepped over any inappropriate line. Never used the aubergine emoji even, despite this revelation. Never told me about this lifestyle that I have never and could never seriously contemplate. Who are these monogamous women who are happy to share?
‘Too much?’ he asks.
‘Put it this way, I don’t think that’s something you’d say to a stranger. Although do correct me if I’m wrong.’
‘Nah, you’re probably right. I’m sorry. Most people react differently when I tell them that.’
‘Really? How do most people react?’
‘Coquettish giggles, mainly.’
Yeah right. What a load of old tosh. I raise my eyebrows at him and there’s silence at our table. The first time there has been any between us. I reach for some of the Bombay mix and wash it down with another glug of wine.
‘Do you always go for girls who aren’t poly, or was it accidental?’
‘No. My girlfriend at uni got me into it. Well, I say my girlfriend, I was on Erasmus for a year in Spain and met her out there. She was wild.’ He looks briefly wistful. ‘Anyway, I knew she had another boyfriend and when I asked her about it she told me she always loved more than one person at a time, but that her other boyfriend was her primary partner. And it just went from there. It was a great year. I dated a lot of women. Didn’t study much, mind.’
‘Sounds like quite the love in,’ I say. Joshua laughs. He is, it would seem, good-natured, despite the fact my comment definitely came off more judgemental than I meant.
‘You have no idea,’ he smirks and obviously my mind has gone to a place of Sangria-fuelled orgies and wild Spanish girls and Josh fully believing all his Navidades had come at once. ‘Would you ever consider it?’
‘Well, let’s just say I’d need a fair bit of convincing,’ I tell him. ‘Because I don’t think I could ever really be okay with all the sharing. I’d get jealous. How do your multiple girlfriends not get jealous? And do you have a primary partner?’
‘I guess because I’m quite discreet about it. I don’t talk to one when I’m with the other. I share my time equally. I show them both how much I care for them. They don’t miss out. I don’t have a primary partner right now, no.’
‘So what happens if you decide you want to level up with one of them? Let’s say you want to move in with girlfriend A. Would you then tell girlfriend B? How would you broach staying over with girlfriend B? Would girlfriend B ever be invited over to the home you shar
ed with girlfriend A? Would girlfriend A become your primary partner? I’m sort of fascinated by this.’
Josh tops up the wine glasses. ‘I think,’ he says, ‘that we’d all cross that bridge when we came to it.’
Cop-out answer. He couldn’t be discreet about it if that was the case. He hasn’t given it any thought. He doesn’t say much more, as if my curiosity closed him up a bit. Maybe he’s paranoid I’m going to pass his details on to my pretend colleague to write about. Instead, he backs away and we revert to idle chit-chat about things neither of us will remember in the morning. Bottle finished, we call it a night and he walks me to the station.
‘I know it’s a lot to take in,’ he says, after a stiff hug. ‘But if you wanted to go out again, I wouldn’t object to it.’
‘I… er, I’m honestly not sure.’
‘I get it if you’re not open-minded.’
‘It’s not that I’m not open-minded, Joshua, it’s more that when I’m seeing someone and it’s going well, I don’t want to have to share them. I don’t want to know that they’re off shagging someone else.’
‘I’ll leave the ball in your court, then,’ he says.
‘Okie doke,’ I say. ‘I had a nice evening. Thank you for that.’
As soon as I’m home, I text Carlina.
Fran
It was a bust.
Calina
Noooooooo! Why?
Fran
He’s allegedly polyamorous.
Carlina
You’re kidding?!
Fran
I’m not.
Carlina
Was he nice though?
Fran
He was fine. But he asked if I knew the person who wrote about Louis, and not in a good way so obviously I had to lie. Oh, and he also told me he is hung, which, if you’d met him, you’d know was awkward and inappropriate.
Carlina
Awkward, and inappropriate whoever he is. Probably for the best it was never going to work.
* * *
At work the next day, two emails ping into my inbox, one almost directly after the other, and they hit me like a sledgehammer. I go from elation to mourning in the space of five minutes. If Lee manhandling Ollie’s desk felt like a punch in the gut, then this really is the kick when I’m down.
To: Frances Tatlin
From: Oliver Taylor
Subject: Hey from Italy
Fran! How’s things? Sorry for the radio silence, it’s been one hell of a ride.
So we’re in Italy right now. We skipped out on northern Europe because the weather was better in Italy. So we’re adding Dubai on to the itinerary instead because Lou is desperate to go. She was telling me about the shopping malls and I told her we could have probably just gone to Westfield and saved a lot of money on air fare, and Fran, that was very much the wrong thing to say. She humphed off! Anyway, after that, we’re going to Sri Lanka, and then on to Malaysia, Singapore, Vietnam and Thailand before Australia! Lou has this idea to stay in Aus for longer than we’d planned but she doesn’t like the idea of the farm work you have to do to extend your visa. Hopefully we’ll find some fruit-picking like we’re doing here. We’re staying on an Italian farm and picking these cherries and apricots all day. Thousands and thousands of them. Then at the end of the day we sit around this giant table with the farmer and his family and all the other pickers and are served this incredible food and local wine. You’d be in heaven. There were backpackers from all over the world so obvs the language skills are limited but somehow it doesn’t matter at all. Somehow we all manage. I’ve attached some pics for you. Check out the sunset over those hills! Also, Lou’s face when they presented her with a whole fish and joked that she should eat the eye! (Not sure it was a joke really, everyone else ate theirs!)
I know I said it before, but if we do stay in Aus, I’d love for you to come and see us! I think I mentioned nabbing a desk at the Viral Hive office in Sydney so you could come out and meet the team! If you spun it as a collab they might shout your flights!
Gotta go but let me know what you’ve been up to. Hope the team are well. I won’t leave it so long to be in touch again – promise!
Ollie
* * *
To: VH-LDN-all-staff
From: Joe Stone
Subject: Expressions of Interest: Video Content Production Lead
Fancy a change in-house? We’re looking to recruit a video content production lead on a permanent basis.
You’ll be a fun, dynamic leader with heaps of ideas, enthusiasm and a good knowledge of online trends and viral content. You’ll be working with teams across the business as a whole as well as those in-house. You’ll be a pro at managing expectations whilst consistently delivering the quality viral content that keeps Viral Hive the world’s number one viral news and entertainment hub.
If this sounds like you, drop me an email explaining what you’ll bring to the team and why you’re perfect for this role by 5th August.
Joe Stone
Video Division Lead
Chapter Thirty-Four
September
I haven’t seen Lydia since before we argued and she hung up on me whilst I angrily chewed on pizza crusts. Things were left a few weeks before we missed each other and started texting again, and attempting to meet up but so far our diaries have never quite synched.
So when she asks to meet for dinner on a Friday evening in early September because she has something to tell me, I go with a mix of vague trepidation that things might be awkward and excitement to see her because I’m pretty sure what she has to tell me is that she’s having a baby, and she’ll stand up and show me a neat little bump, high on her abdomen, hair shiny and bouncy, skin clear and all aglow. She’ll pull out a scan photo of her baby and sip on lime and soda all evening.
And things don’t begin awkwardly at all, but that’s one of the perks of best friendship. True best friendship. The kind where water under the bridge is abundant and fast-flowing and you let all the shit go because a true best friend is a soulmate and the family you choose. She stands up and smooths down her dress. No bump, but maybe she isn’t far enough along to show. We hug and say how much we missed each other and vow never to fall out over a man ever again. We sit and scan the menu and when she asks if I’d like to share a bottle of wine, I can hardly mask my confusion.
‘You’re drinking then?’ I ask.
‘Yes, of course,’ she says. ‘Why?’
‘No reason,’ I say, shaking my head, embarrassed I’d made the assumption.
‘Did you think I was pregnant?’ she asks, and sadness passes briefly across her face.
‘Well… I guess I just thought—’
‘It’s fine, my love, but I’m not,’ she confirms. ‘It’s taking ages. I want to go to the doctor but Jeff isn’t keen. Says it’ll happen when it happens. It’s frustrating.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ I say. I think back to how she basked in excitement at her New Year’s Eve party, how we sat on the wall and she told me about the baby clothes she’d bought in Aspen, how she had everything planned out in her head. I’m sad it doesn’t seem to have been as straightforward as she’d hoped.
‘When we had our spat I’d just got my period, and it was the second month of trying, and I think that probably didn’t help my mood. So I’m sorry about that. Anyway, yes, I am drinking. And if you’d like to share a bottle with me I would not object.’
‘Absolutely,’ I say, and now I’m wondering what she has to tell me. After all, this was never mooted as just a catch-up. There was something specific she had to share, and I know now it’s not what I’d assumed. When the wine arrives, she pours us both a glass and looks a little solemn.
‘So not that it isn’t lovely to see you, but there was a reason I asked you for dinner tonight, and I feel like it’s going to dominate the rest of the evening a little.’
‘Okay?’ I say.
She takes a really deep breath, and it worries me. This is how she reacts when she’s nervou
s, or sad, or the news isn’t great.
‘Back in February, you went on a date with Jeff’s colleague, Tim. Do you remember?’
‘Of course I remember,’ I laugh. ‘Jesus, Lydia, I haven’t been out with so many men that I’ve forgotten any of them. That arsehole is the reason we fell out in the first place.’
‘Yes,’ she says. ‘That arsehole.’
‘Oh god,’ I say, and the panic in me is rising. ‘He’s not dead, is he? I’d feel bad about calling him an arsehole if—’
‘He’s not dead,’ she interrupts. ‘And he hasn’t overtaken Jeff in his career, in case you were worried about that. I’m actually told he’s fairly mediocre anyway.’
I wasn’t in the least bit worried about that. It hadn’t even crossed my mind. Still, I try and look relieved anyway.
‘He knows about your blog.’
‘How?’ I ask, my voice calm. I lean back in the chair and sip my wine. Lydia shifts uncomfortably. She won’t quite meet my eye.
‘Jeff told him,’ she says, quietly.
‘What the fuck?’ I say, slightly less quietly this time. The people on the next table look across at me. ‘Why did he do that? You know it’s supposed to be anonymous. I’ve worked so hard to protect the guilty.’
‘I’m not defending him,’ she says quickly, and holds up her palms. ‘I want to make that very clear. It was at a work thing. Tim made a comment about you and Jeff had been drinking, and opened his mouth. I’m furious. He’s contrite. Especially considering you didn’t write about Tim. I appreciated that, by the way.’
‘He wasn’t worth the effort,’ I say, grimly.
‘Please don’t take this the wrong way but I wish he felt that way about you.’
‘I don’t understand. I haven’t heard from him since his fake trip to Cambridge.’
She shifts in her seat and won’t meet my eye.
‘Apparently there are photos. Of you.’
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