by Holly Bourne
‘Sorry,’ he says, smiling again. ‘I take you away from your night out to chat about operating systems, and then take you away from them to tell you about all my problems.’
I smile like it doesn’t bother me at all. ‘It’s great. You should turn it into a themed club night.’
‘It will be the talk of London.’ We both look at one another and laugh over the rims of our drinks. Mutual attraction obvious and unfurling. Joshua’s workmates have re-clumped with their backs to us, like penguins, leaving us to flirt.
‘So, no skeletons in your closet then, Gretel?’
I point out my finger. ‘Hey, this is technically only date one point five. Surely it’s too soon for the skeleton chat?’
Joshua takes another sip of his beer alongside another appreciative body scan of me. ‘I just don’t get how someone like you is single.’
Gretel smiles serenely. ‘I’m just picky, that’s all. If I’m going to jump, and change my life, it’s going to have to be for someone pretty special.’ I return his glance, to give him a hint that maybe, just maybe, he is the someone special. I want to vomit down myself as I do so.
‘That’s wise,’ he replies. ‘That’s very wise.’
I let there be silence so he can talk more because men so very love talking. I expect him to go off on a monologue, like he did on our first date, but he surprises me by asking more questions about me and acting genuinely interested in my replies.
‘So Gretel, that’s an interesting name. Where did that come from?’
I’d already rehearsed this answer. ‘My mum always loved fairy tales,’ I reply. ‘We used to read them all the time when I was little. It must’ve come from there.’
‘Why Gretel though? Why not Cinderella or I dunno … what’s another fairy-tale name?’
‘Rumpelstiltskin?’
He barks his seal laugh. ‘Yeah, why didn’t she call you that?’
‘Oh, you know, the usual. Cos it would’ve been child abuse.’
‘Well, Gretel’s a good name. Congratulations.’
Gretel curtsies, that’s just how cute she is. ‘So do you like your job?’ I ask him, to make it less about me.
‘Does anyone like their job?’
‘I like mine.’
‘You work for a charity, don’t you?’
I nod. ‘Yes, it’s great. I genuinely love it.’ It feels nice to have just one part of April match with Gretel. My job is that. ‘Like, I rarely get sad on Sunday evenings because I really like going in most days. Not every day, of course, but most of them. I sound like I’m in a job interview, but honestly, working for a charity is so rewarding.’
‘That’s amazing,’ he says. ‘Really amazing.’
We launch into mutually drunken conversation, becoming one of those pissed couples you see, standing outside a pub on a summer’s evening, leaning in a bit too much to hear what the other is saying. He asks me about my plans for the summer, and I say I’m saving up for Africa. He is going to Green Man festival with his friends from university, something they do every year. Apart from the ones who have kids now, of course. We stumble into politics, relieved to learn that we are both of the left-voting persuasion. This excitement dims a bit on my part as now, predictably, Josh is explaining politics to me. Regurgitating facts he has read on the Guardian’s website, claiming them as his own, subconsciously dismissing the fact that I have just admitted to him that I, too, read the Guardian, and therefore am likely to have read the same articles and know the same facts and know where he’s got them from.
But Gretel is so grateful that he’s teaching her more about politics. ‘Oh, yes, you’re right,’ she says, putting her hand on his, just for a moment. ‘I’ve not thought about it like that.’ She’s careful to chime in with a tiny titbit here and there, just to reassure Josh that she’s well-informed enough, just not as much as he is. ‘Oh, yes, I read about that. It’s so sad for Jerusalem,’ she chirps. He looks momentarily surprised, then a bit relieved, then a bit enchanted, and then a bit threatened. He tells me more facts he’s read off the Guardian about Jerusalem. His workmates are forgotten. The sun is finally down. Some come over and say goodbye and we reluctantly break for Joshua to say ‘I’ll see you on Monday’ and for me to say ‘it was nice to meet you’. We lean back into one another before they’ve even left. We share stories of being young, of both growing up in boring suburban towns and the weird stuff you used to do in order to pass time as a teenager.
‘Do you remember, when you were, like, 11, downing loads of own-brand cola from the supermarket to get “hyper”?’ I ask.
‘Oh my God, hyper! I forgot about getting hyper! We used to do the same, but we added sachets of sugar into the cola to make it extra strong.’
‘Yikes. Speed balling. Aged 11. You sound like a right rebel.’
He takes my hand and squeezes it, and it’s annoying how good it feels. ‘Oh Gretel,’ he says. ‘I work in IT. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for someone to use the word “rebel” in reference to me.’
‘Rebel.’
‘Please keep saying that.’
‘Oh my God, Joshua, you’re such a rebel.’
‘This is the best day of my life.’
I lean my head to the side. ‘What can I say, rebel? I’m here to make all your dreams come true.’
Then he’s kissing me, just like that. On the pavement, with the braying of pissed humans all around us. I didn’t see the kiss coming but I go with it, my head bleary with too many different types of alcohol. Joshua’s too pushy with his tongue and I have to concentrate on breathing through my nose. I wonder for a moment how he can get to his age and still think this is an appropriate amount of tongue. Then I remember a fact I read in one of the self-help books about how men use tongue kissing to get you to taste their pheromones. He lets out a little groan and kisses me even deeper, pulling me closer and spilling a bit of beer down the back of my dress. I let Gretel ignore it, as she is supposed to be so into this kiss. And, again, what’s annoying is, even though Joshua isn’t a very good kisser, my body is still doing all sorts of things in response to this kiss. I can taste our compatibility. I can feel my heart thud harder under the thin fabric of my dress. I can feel feelings brewing, a desire unfurling, the urge to be with him and win him and keep him and grow mini hims in my stomach. Sex is such a trap. I forget every time how much it sucks you in, and sucks you dry, makes you lose sight of yourself and your actual needs – rather than the needs activated by biological tripwires and unmet childhood developmental stages. I refuse to be caught though. I am done done done. I can override this. I must. I let him kiss me a while longer, but then I break it off. I put my forehead to his.
‘Well I wasn’t expecting that to happen,’ I whisper, which is the truth actually.
‘I really fancy you,’ he says, before pulling me back into a kiss despite my clear signal to stop. I try not to roll my eyes as I let his need to kiss me overrule my desire to not be kissed any more. I am well-rehearsed in this sort of thing. It’s as easy as tying a shoelace, letting men push past my boundaries. Easier than sneezing. I pull away as quickly as I can get away with though.
‘So, you fancy me, huh?’
‘I think it’s obvious that I do.’
‘Makes dating so much easier, doesn’t it? When you fancy them?’ I am careful not to tell him I fancy him back. Now is not the time for that card. He needs to worry and stew that maybe I don’t.
He laughs. ‘Yes. Much easier. So, can I see you again?’
I pretend to think about it. ‘I guess.’
‘Will that make it date two or date three?’
‘It’s so cute that you’re counting.’
‘Why? Aren’t you?’
I tap my nose and he seems to find that so attractive that we have to kiss some more and even more urgently. He’s drunk and he’s horny and I know I could easily have sex with him tonight if I wanted to. Not that I want to, but I allow myself a moment of feeling powerful that I could.
Megan: I’m in a cab back to his. I’m fine. I’m fully consenting. This is a message to say I don’t think I’ll end up dead in a ditch tonight. Xxx
I’m just typing out a reply when my phone goes again.
Megan: WHAT IF I’VE FORGOTTEN HOW TO HAVE SEX? IT’S BEEN AGES! IS IT STILL THE SAME?
‘What’s so funny?’ Joshua asks my neck as he kisses it.
‘Oh, just a message from my housemate. I have to go and meet her now.’ The lie falls effortlessly from my mouth. ‘I really have to go. This has been great though.’ I twist my neck out of his grasp, quickly peck him on the lips, and then pick up my handbag which I’ve let fall to the pavement.
‘Are you really going?’ His mouth is still half-open.
‘Yes I am.’
‘But date three, right?’
‘Only if you bring a mint chocolate Viennetta.’
Megan: I’VE NOT FORGOTTEN HOW TO HAVE SEX! IT’S JUST THE SAME.
Joshua: Hey Gretel, it was great seeing you tonight x
April: It’s like riding a bike, isn’t it? Ha ha. RIDE. Congratulations on getting laid. Do you want to get brunch tomorrow and debrief?
Gretel: Had a great time too. Night!
April: Are you dead? Has he killed you?
Megan: Not dead. Just shagging. Won’t be back till tomorrow.
Megan: Maybe Monday.
Megan: I’m FINE. He’s really nice!
April: Megan …
April: Are you relapsing? You’ve been clean for two years.
*
Joshua: Hey Gretel, good weekend? When is it going to rain? I’ve forgotten what rain feels like. Anyway, how about a picnic in the park this week? I’ll cook* and bring you that ice cream you wanted x
*buy stuff from M&S
Gretel: Hey, weekend good thanks. I’m pretty packed this week, but can maybe do Wed?
Gretel: PS: Assembling M&S pots of stuff defo counts as cooking.
Joshua: Wednesday it is x
Joshua: I’m looking forward to seeing you Gretel x
*
April: Just checking you’re still alive? It’s now Monday morning. MONDAY. Just in case you’ve forgotten.
Megan: Still alive! Back tomorrow I think.
April: You’re not falling in love with him, are you?
Megan: Maybe …
April: Megan …
Megan: IT’S FINE!
*
Message received: 08:02
Hey, I’ve never written into something like this before. Sorry if I’m being stupid. Sorry. I’m just a bit confused about something that happened with my boyfriend. We were having sex and then he just sort of started having anal sex with me without asking. It really hurt but I didn’t tell him to stop because I was quite confused and just sort of froze. He says he loves me. I really love him. Do you think it was an accident? Soz. I’m prob just being dramatic. Thx in advance for your reply.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: You OK?
Just saw there’s a few tricky ones in there today.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: RE: You OK?
I’m fine buddy. Don’t you worry about me. A x
*
Joshua: How’s work? My colleagues all said how nice you were when I came in this morning.
Gretel: Work great! The joy of Mondays. Aww, that’s nice of them. How’s the crazy world of coding going?
Joshua: Yeah, good. Every day I can pretend I’m hacking into the Matrix.
Gretel: There is no spoon.
*
Joshua: Still on for tomorrow? What are your thoughts on chicken and avocado sandwiches?
Gretel: Hey, sorry for the delay in getting back to you. Crazy day. How did you know that chicken and avocado is my one true vice in life?
April: MEGAN COME HOME. I’ve not spoken to another human outside work for four days now.
Megan: Sorry April. I’ll be home tonight.
Megan: April, I think I love him.
April: Get home now!
*
Joshua: I had such a good night tonight, Gretel. Though I do think we should apologise to the pelicans for our gross PDAs x
Gretel: The pelicans loved it. We should’ve charged them.
Joshua: You free next week?
Gretel: I should be. I just need to juggle some things around.
Joshua: Wanna find some different animals to disgust with our snogging?
Gretel: Did you just use the word snogging, Joshua?
Joshua: Yes. And I’m not ashamed.
Joshua: Is that a yes then?
Gretel: Hey, sorry, fell asleep. Yes. Let’s do it next week x
*
April: Staying at Malcolm’s again tonight? I thought Friday night were our nights.
Megan: I love it when you message me when we’re both in the same flat. Yes. Sorry! I’ll be back Sunday. Have you seen my pink lacy knickers? Argh! Staying at a boy’s house is so stressful!
April: Sorry. On the loo. Why don’t you have him come stay here then?
Megan: Bring him here? Are you kidding me? I can’t bring him here.
April: Why not?
Megan: Because he’ll see how I live!
April: What’s wrong with how you live? PS: We need toilet roll.
Megan: It’s a flat. I don’t want him to know I live in a flat. He lives in a house. A proper one. With its own door, April. It’s own door! In Dulwich. He has a garden. A front door and a garden.
April: We have a front door …
Megan: Yeah that we have to SHARE with people. I can’t let him know that I share a front door. He might be the love of my life. It will all go out the window if he knows I share a door.
Megan: I’ve never felt this way about anyone before …
*
Message received: 13:17
hi my friend steve walked me home the other night because i was too drunk and he said he wanted to make sure i got home safe but then he came into my house and pushed me to have sex with him and then acted like nothing had happened the next morning had to take the morning after pill. v confused pls help
*
Message received: 12:04
My uber driver raped me last night. What do I do?
*
Joshua: Another great date, Gretel. You’re quite good at this, aren’t you?
Gretel: What can I say? You bring out the best in me.
Joshua: I could say the same about you.
Gretel: This is too cute, I may throw up.
Joshua:
Gretel: Did you just heart eyes emoji me?
Joshua:
Gretel: Ever heard of playing it cool, Joshua?
Joshua: Ever heard of taking it easy on a guy, Gretel?
Gretel:
Joshua: The modern equivalent of a sonnet.
*
Megan: Hey hon. OK, so this sounds crazy, but I looked up his ex-girlfriend and is she prettier than me?
Megan: There’s this photo here. I like her dress, but she looks a bit old, right?
Megan: And then there’s this one. She looks better in this one. I am prettier, right?
Megan: Right?
Megan: Sorry. I’ll stop being mental now. I’ve deleted Facebook off my phone and I’m working really hard on this launch party. I’m fine! Sorry! Ignore me. Silly moment.
Megan: How about in this photo?
Megan: I put Facebook back on my phone.
Megan: Sorry. No more being crazy. Phew! I’m going to concentrate on my CAREER and this launch I’m in charge of and stop worrying about some stupid bitch called Regina who looks like she’s got chew and spit disorder.
Megan: OK. But in that last photo? Botox, right?
*
Joshua: Morning Gretel! Happy Thursday! It’s the weekend tomorrow. Whoop!
I was just thinking, how about we remove animals from our dating agenda and add in a roof? Fancy coming around to mine tomorrow? I’ll actually cook, rather than just arrange pots of things.
Gretel: Sounds great. Can I bring anything?
Joshua: Just your gorgeous self. 7?
Gretel: Can’t wait x
On our third date, Joshua pulled out all the stops for the picnic. He brought a folded blanket, a cold bottle of prosecco, a giant assortment of chilled foodstuffs from M&S and a melted Viennetta in a seeping box which I laughed at. He kissed me the moment I rocked up to St James’s Park station, with tongue, just to reaffirm that we’d already crossed this sexual boundary and were going to continue to do so. The conversation flowed as easily as the alcohol. He’s a funny man. He’s easy to talk to. Effortless and bubbly and also very happy to talk about himself, which Gretel let him do of course. We made out in front of the pelicans. I let him kiss me and stare at me with the hope and wonder you can only have in the very early days before you really know anything about someone.
‘Maybe, this time; maybe she is different’, I could imagine him thinking.
He was better at kissing when less drunk. Less tongue. It was not unpleasant. I fancy the guy. I’ll admit that. I fancy the guy. But I also have no heart left to give him, and, even if I did, that is not why I’m doing this. We talked about his job some more and how he feels frustrated with the current management structure. We talked about his parents and how they wear matching cagoules to go on really long walks, and how they never leave Norwich. He briefly mentioned his ex again when I mentioned Chrissy’s upcoming hen do – slipping it out like an accidental fart. ‘Fiona was obsessed with getting married,’ he mumbled, before apologising.
I wondered silently what he did to her in the relationship to make her insecure enough to be obsessed with getting married. Or what he didn’t do. His poor ex.
‘Weddings are ludicrous, aren’t they?’ Gretel said, stretching her arms up into the sun. ‘They’re so over the top and I think people get married for the wrong reason.’
He beamed at me. ‘That’s exactly what I think.’
I laughed inwardly when I thought of the amount of time I’ve spent planning my wedding since I was a child. The flowers, the dress – and how it adapts over time depending on the current fashions – the food, the playlist, the location, the readings. And then I considered all the time I’ve spent pretending I don’t think any of this, to men, so they think I’m someone I’m not and can love me better and therefore I can have the wedding.