My Single friend by Jane Costello

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

            Dominique looks as if she’s bitten a jellyfish and washed it down with lighter fluid. ‘That’s beyond weird.’

            She, Erin and I have hit the shops with Henry to begin his reinvention.

            ‘I mean it,’ continues Dominique, frenziedly rifling through a rail of sweaters. ‘One phone call from his mother would have been suspicious. You deserve a medal to have lasted as long as you did.’

            I shrug. ‘I won’t be seeing him again, that’s for sure.’

            ‘It seems so unfair,’ sighs Erin.

            ‘It wasn’t just the thing with his mother,’ I complain. ‘I couldn’t understand a bloody word he was saying. And that was when he was talking about the plays I’ve seen. When he got onto Roger Vitrac and Power to the Children he could have been speaking Cantonese.’

            ‘Oh dear,’ says Erin, concerned. ‘Don’t worry, Lucy. I’m sure you’ve just been unlucky.’

            This is what she says after all my dates, but I don’t point it out. Besides, unfettered optimism must come easily when you’ve got a love-life like Erin’s. She and The Lovely Gary have been together for eight months and they’re so smitten that she can’t ask him to pass the milk without sounding like a Valentine card verse.

            The Lovely Gary has been referred to as such since the evening Dom and I met him at a new bar opening, shortly after he and Erin got together. Erin had spent three weeks repeating how ‘lovely’ he was, until Dominique attempted to bring her back to earth, saying: ‘Erin, sweetheart – no one’s that lovely.’

            Then he carried Dom into a taxi after an incident involving a snapped high heel and one too many Jackhammers, and she was forced to concede the point. Ever since, it hasn’t sounded right calling him just ‘Gary’.

            There is no doubt The Lovely Gary has been good for Erin; you only have to look at her to see that. Today, with her beaming smile and glossy strawberry-blonde waves, she looks stunning. Her clothes are gorgeous too: Erin dresses in a way that’s bohemian and fashionable at the same time – a look I’ve never been able to master. When I try to do bohemian I look as if I’ve slept rough.

            ‘Oh well, there are plenty more fish in the sea.’ I smile unconvincingly.

            ‘Absolutely,’ agrees Erin. ‘You’ll find someone soon, Lucy, I’ve no doubt.’

            ‘I’m not desperate or anything,’ I say for the record.

            ‘Of course not!’ replies Erin.

            ‘Onwards and upwards.’ I wonder if it’s obvious that I’m hiding my lack of conviction with a string of clichés. The truth is that I am getting a bit depressed about my love-life. Dating has been fun, but . . . what am I talking about? It hasn’t been remotely fun. I’ve enjoyed the anticipation of going out with new people, but am sick to death of it inevitably ending in disaster.

            It’s not that I’m not over my ex, Tom. But I’ll admit that I miss the intimacy. I miss curling up together on a rainy Sunday afternoon and talking about nothing and everything, between kisses. I miss fingers winding round mine as we snuggle up at the cinema. And I’ll admit this too: I miss sex.