“What do you mean?” I ask.
“He’s disappeared. Can’t be friends anymore because his new Internet love won’t stand for it.”
“Oh, Jen. I’m so sorry.” I am sorry too; no one has less luck with men than Jen.
“Seriously, Josie. If you keep pulling that I’m-so-sorry-you-have-been-dumped face I am going to force feed you naan bread dipped in butter chicken. I don’t care. I was not going out with him. I just think it’s pretty rich when someone says they want to be your friend then they don’t when all you have done is be kind to them.”
“Or maybe,” says Kelly, “what I think has happened is actually true. He has a girlfriend now and she wouldn’t like the two of you being friends.”
“That’s probably true,” I say. “Frank’s cousin Jeff says the Internet is full of crazy, possessive women.”
“Aren’t all Frank’s cousins married?” asks Kelly.
“Yes. Well, Jeff is married. They are just going through a bit of a difficult stage at present.”
“And he thought dabbling in some Internet dating would help his marriage difficulties? And they say the women online are crazy?”
Kelly has a point.
“The world’s gone mad,” she says. “And talking of which, my choice of book, and it is Karen Walker Thompson, The Age of Miracles. Dystopian theme. It’s another new one, sorry, but I thought it looked brilliant.”
“When it is my choice,” says Ella, “I will stick to the rules - older books only! Who’s up for a pizza night at mine on Saturday? The boys are away.”
God, pizza. I can’t eat pizza before I go away but I can’t tell her that. “I’m in,” I say, probably not sounding very enthusiastic.
“Me too,” say Jen and Kelly, sounding a lot happier about the idea.
Jen
Definitely Josie’s best choice to date. At least since I’ve been going to book club. Not that that would be difficult, her others have been shockers. Anyway, forget that.
Guess what?
No, go on guess!
Have you guessed?
Oh, maybe you did then...
I met someone!
We went out on Saturday. I had to drop out of Ella’s pizza night. He is articulate, solvent, normal and even good-looking!
So, here’s how I met him. Deep breath, don’t judge me now. I’ll get it all out in one go.
I joined a posh dating agency and it cost two grand.
I said don’t judge me. And believe me, I know very well that there are far better things to spend money on, but I needed to do this. I really, really want a guy in my life, and all the other things I try just don’t seem to work. I figure, if a guy is willing to pay that much too, then he also really wants to meet someone. And I have met someone. And his name is Brian, which is not a great name actually, but aside from that he is well, what can I say? Brimming with potential. He could be the one. I really feel he could be the one.
Now, I know you’re curious. You’re thinking what do you get for your two grand? Well, the dating agency is basically just the woman who owns it. So, rather than have the expense of a permanent office in the city, she works from home and rents out one of those occasional use ones. It’s much more discreet, and of course, as she is the only one doing the matching, it’s much more personal and professional.
You start with a kind of interview at the occasional use office. She decides if you are the calibre of lady she requires, and shows you the different packages available. You know, how long it’s for, how many introductions you are entitled to etc. Which is not that many, but I wonder if I’ll get a refund now I’ve met Brian. Anyway, straight away, she says she can think of someone for me! It must have been him – she is so clever at her job, and lovely too. Well, of course, I sign up when she says that. For the silver package. And yes, you are right –silver means there is a gold one which is even dearer! Heck.
Well, after an anxious three days Brian rang! Now, I hadn’t seen a photo, she doesn’t believe in them, which I do get, as the blokes off the Internet sites look completely different from their photos. Anyway, we have a good chat and arrange to go out the following Saturday. This being the Wednesday he called, after the mega calories of Tuesday’s book/curry club. I spent the next two days doing a Josie, starving myself and wishing I hadn’t succumbed to butter chicken yet again. Still, the starving myself was worth it because he is lovely. Like I said, he is pretty good-looking. He has older kids at private school, his own very successful business, and he likes to play golf.
Brian spent quite a lot of time telling me all about golf rules and how the handicaps work etc. I’ll admit it was a tad boring, but we had a lovely evening, and he has texted me loads since. I’m seeing him again on Thursday.
Finally I may have met someone. Someone quite attractive, with hair, who takes me out to dinner. Hurrah.
Kelly
So, pizza night ends up being me and Ella, and Karen and Lucy from work. Three single girls who know what fun a girls’ night can be, and one married mum for whom the simple pleasure of a girls’ night in on a Saturday is a rare treat.
And it is fun, in a way, to talk inappropriate and indiscreet shop re the two turkeys who run our joint, but to me, Jos and Jen bombing out is a bit crap. I say girlfriends don’t dump you like men do, so don’t dump your girlfriend arrangements for some bloke. But Jos and Jen are made differently. What can you do?
Jen is on some date, and Josie is trying to shed some weight before she goes to Bali next week. Shouldn’t you just look forward to a holiday, not panic about how you’ll look on it? Maybe it’s me.
I arrive at seven to do the usual battle of getting into Ella’s flat. Finally she hears the buzzer, and finally the slowest lift in the world arrives at her floor. Ella’s hallway is the next obstacle; it is home to what would appear to be the Fisher family’s entire shoe collection. Likewise, every coat they own is precariously piled on three struggling hooks, and I swear just the lightest of breezes from walking past them brings one sliding to the floor. In this case I think it was my hair, and once down, a coat refuses to stay up again. I keep my coats in my wardrobe and I make Fanny do the same. Much tidier. I’m a bit OCD-ish like that. Jen’s the same. Ella says she used to be, but with the boys being boys she just gave up in the end. She still hates the untidy, she just has to put up with it.
The lounge is huge-tellied and usually awash with Charlie’s toys, but tonight they are swept away into a corner. Ella has covered them with a kelim she and Ben bought on their travels around Turkey. Actually, I’d never noticed before, but there are lots of things around which must be souvenirs of their travels. They did a lot when they were based in London. There’s a lovely papyrus painting of Tutankhamen, a heavy red and gold plate- maybe Moroccan? Some cushion covers that look Turkish too, though one of them also looks as if Charlie may have had an accident on it. It’s weird how, without the toys and Charlie crashing around the place, you can see their other life. Tonight is Ella’s non-mummy life. As Ben and Charlie are camping, we get a girly night talking crap. Fabulous. We have such a laugh we forget about the DVD altogether. And with it being a work crowd, you can imagine there’s a fair bit of work talk. Pretty bad considering Ella and I are both PA to partners. My guy, Balding, is a bit of a quiet non-entity really, but Ella’s fella, Buxton? Well, there’s no end to what can be said about him. He’s like something out of the fifties. You think male bosses like this don’t exist anymore but, believe me, they do.
“The thing with Buxton is this,” says Ella, “he always speaks to my girls!”
‘What does he say?” This is Karen and she looks shocked. She’s our