Love's Not A Competion

Love's Not A Competition, and I'm not that bothered

I rifled about in the cupboard looking through bottles of various things while my workmates prattled on about their plans for New Year. Oh yeah, that celebration that didn't really mean much to me. There were always kissing couples on the strike of midnight to remind me that it was another year of me being too socially awkward to talk to guys I liked.

"Are you doing anything on Saturday, Juliette?" my boss asked.

"Nothing exciting." I shrugged. "Just eating my weight in pizza and drinking beer."

I felt my workmates inwardly sigh for me.

"You should come with my and Jim to the party I told you about." my friend Taylor pipped up.

"Remind me who's it is?" I asked, half interested.

"It's some rock singer Jim's beeping working with. Can't remember his name but Jim's been producing the band's new album." Taylor replied. She liked telling everyone about her boyfriend and how madly in love they were. If smug couples had an Olympic sport Taylor and Jim would win gold medals for Team GB. "Apparently he's about our age and single."

Ah yes, that phrase that my friends kept telling me about their friend who'd apparently be great for me but always turned out to be a pervert who'd spend the whole first, and only date, addressing my cleavage instead of my face. My age and single didn't mean I'd like him. It was actually a very broad net to cast.

"Oh why not!" I sighed.

It had been a while since I'd been out of a Saturday night. Or any night of the week. My job as a make up artist on a West End musical didn't leave much time for partying. Sometimes I didn't leave the theatre until after midnight by which time I was ready to curl up in bed with my cat and sleep until I was needed to stick a wig or a prosthetic to someone.

After work that night instead of the usual straight to bed I headed for my wardrobe. Tibby, the cat, rubbed at my legs and purred loudly. I scooped her up and cradled her on her back like a baby, kissing her tummy.

"I'm going out on Saturday Tibby Tubs. Will you be alright? I'll leave your blanket by the sofa in case the fireworks scare you." I told her. I liked to talk to her as if she were human. She always gave my friends a look of disdain when they cooed and baby talked to her like she wasn't as intelligent as them.

I poked through a few outfits but eventually decided to decide in the morning. In the morning I'd no doubt tell myself I'd decide on Saturday.

True to my usual style I left my fashion choice to the last minute. I grabbed a dress out of my wardrobe that seemed to tick all the party boxes.

"What do you think, Tib?" I asked the cat. She looked over vaguely at me and went back to sleep on my bed.