Thursday, June 21, 2007
I’m traumatized after speaking to Darren and Ross. They were so bloody hip and cool and SO fanciable and made me seriously question my quest to stay single. I’m not in a good place right now, either. You know one of those days when you’re suddenly pissed off with how you look? And it seems to last for weeks? It’s as if, without realizing it, you’ve become bored with how you look. That same old face in the mirror every day, that same hair and same lipstick. Added to it is the fact that, despite physically being trimmer than I have been in years, I still continually have ‘fat’ days! I’m sure I’m suffering with the S.A.D’s. This ‘promise’ has forced me to look at myself too in a close-up, under-the-magnifying-glass way that screams ‘Mutiny’ – oh no, I mean ‘Scrutiny’ - it just feels as if I want to jump off of SS Sophie! It’s been heart-warming, receiving messages and emails from guys and I’ve realized how I’ve missed those innocuous comments that mean so much - the “are you OK?” and “how was your day?”
And it makes me rather shy and terrified to admit that I wait for Rob to call and ask me those very things. My day isn’t complete unless he’s called and asked me.
And he does.
He’s a gem.
He texts me in the morning to say:
Morning! Keep smiling & have a good 1 ;)
And then calls me every evening to ask if I’m alright and what my day was like.
He’s my rock.
My new-best-friend – but don’t tell Tamsin!
If only he had the charm and sex appeal of Ade, he’d be my perfect man….
As flippy as I am about Ross and Darren’s involvement in anything to do with my life (given their great looks, charm and highly-charged, positive energy) I am a little unsure about their Sophie Dilemma idea. I’ve been tossing it around in my head for the last couple of days and still can’t decide whether it’s a smart move or a shit one! They want me to go on some dates over the Christmas period and they want to film them and stream them live on the internet. They’re going to cut off the filming at a random moment during the date and then throw it out to the public for their idea as to what will happen next! Talk about lay yourself open for criticism! The idea behind it is to portray me as a woman who is subconsciously sabotaging my chances of love, and to involve the public by asking them where they think I’m going wrong! Why am I attracting married men? Why do I only get a few dates before I’m dumped? And why do I choose the wrong men?
Yes – horrific isn’t it?
As I’m being battered and shoved between commuters on my journey home, breathing in the spicy smells and bodily odours whilst sardined on the tube train, I decide that I need to talk this through with Rob. He’ll know whether it makes sense or not.
My very own TVR - The Voice of Reason.
“So Rob,” as Sophie closes her eyes just as the smelly short man bumps into her on the tube train, Jen is sidling up toward Rob across Sophie’s kitchen table. If you were shorter than about 100cm, then you would see her crossing her bare legs beneath the table and twisting her foot lightly around Rob’s ankle. If you were one of Sophie’s fridge magnets, especially the one that states “ I’m on a
So far I’ve
lost 15 days”,
then you’d have direct sight of Jennifer’s face – overly tanned and forcing a pouted, coy expression as she tries the puppy-dog eyes and wet-lipped look. If you were the toaster, you’d see Rob. Looking panicked and slightly on edge about the lusty glint in Jennifer’s eye and slightly shell-shocked by the foot thing that’s going on under the table. He hates himself for it, but he jumps when he hears Sophie’s key in the door. Jen grabs his forearm and pulls him closer to the table. He stiffens up but it’s too late. She has him in her clutches and he knows that Sophie is staring at them with her mouth open.
He counts to seven, his own mouth stretched into a beaming grin, as they stare at each other. Seven, eight, nine - before she speaks. Her voice is light and breezy, strained and forced into a jovial swing as she drops her handbag onto the sofa,
“Heyyyy,” she sings, “what are you two talking about?”
He notices the flash across her face and wonder’s who she’s mad at - him or her sister. Jennifer replies first, pouting a sad face and speaking like somebody who coo-s and ahhh’s at a baby.
“Oh, well,” her bottom lip is in danger of doubling up as a frying pan if she pushes it out any further, “it’s just that I wanted to talk to somebody who would understand.”
“Oh yeah,” Sophie squeaked, pouring herself an orange juice from the fridge and keeping her back to them, “about what?”
“That gorgeous guy that I was talking to at work. I’m disgusted in him. Sophie?” she twisted in her seat and stretched her eyes wide - all for impact. “You won’t believe what he does for a living?”
Sophie turned and stared her in the eye. “What?”
“He’s only,” Jen began to whimper, straining her facial muscles until fake tears appeared in her eyes, “he’s only... a.... a..... drug dealer!”
Sophie threw back her head and laughed.
Rob wasn’t sure whether it was genuine or fake.
But he wasn’t about to find out. In his experience, when women laughed at something that clearly wasn’t funny - it meant only one thing.
They were either mad-in-the-head - as in bonkers, or they were mad as in furious!
He scraped back his chair on th e tiled floor, kissed Sophie on the cheek, touched Jen on the shoulder and made for the front door.
As he walked home he was annoyed at himself for letting Jennifer cajole him into going around for a chat. In all honesty he’d only agreed to it in the hope that Sophie would be there too. It was a perfect excuse to call in! And there was the added bonus that Sophie would think he was fantastic - being there to listen to her sister’s tales of woe. How wrong he’d been! Her sister was scary and nothing like his best-girl Sophie. He’d been plucking up the courage to ask her to go to see the Christmas lights being turned on at Regent’s Street next week. He knew she loved kiddy things like that and he’d heard that David Beckham was being rumoured to ‘press the button’. She’d joked many times about how he could press her button anytime, and so he’d thought it humorously apt.
The huge Christmas tree was going up in Trafalgar Square too and he wanted to make this Christmas the one that he finally spent with a woman that he had warm feelings for. But how to tell her? She’d spent the best part of the year confiding in him about how she thought all these men had ulterior motives, so how to make her trust him?
And what was he going to say to make her realise how much he liked her?
After hearing all the chat up lines that she’d been exposed to over the last few months, any line now sounded cheap and seedy.
But he had to act fast.
The Christmas lights weren’t going to wait for him.
Chapter Forty Five
Chapter Forty Seven