The Ex-Boyfriend's Handbook Part 2

'Dan, I know what you were getting at by the phrase "let yourself go". I meant "what was the reason?".'

Dan takes a deep breath. 'Well, here's me, and obviously I have to look as good as I do for my job...'

'Mind your head on the ceiling.'

'...but I also like to look like this because I want women to be attracted to me.'

'Yeah, but that's just vanity. Selfishness.'

Dan shakes his head. 'It's not a selfish thing. Quite the reverse, in fact.'

'I don't understand. How can that not be selfish?'

'Because, if you think about it, I don't actually do it for me. I do it for other people. Women. Whereas what you're doing is selfish.'

'Why?'

'Because I care about how other people see me, therefore I care about other people. You, on the other hand, are saying "I don't mind how I look. I'm just going to suit myself". And I'm afraid that that att.i.tude has the opposite effect where women are concerned. It repels them.'

I'm not quite getting Dan's warped logic. 'So your point is?'

Dan looks at me patronizingly. 'My point is, mastermind, and it's just a thought, that maybe you didn't just "let yourself go" by accident. Maybe, subconsciously, you wanted to split up with Jane. And the easiest way for that to happen without you being the bad guy was for her to leave you. So how did you achieve that? By letting yourself get into a state where she didn't find you attractive any more.'

The pub has filled up a little, and I think that I must be struggling to hear Dan correctly above the noise of the a.s.sembled drinkers.

'So let me get this straight. You're saying that I've gradually come to realize over the last ten years that Jane and I aren't suited any more, and so recently I've been cunningly stuffing my face in an attempt to make her leave me, rather than me just do the easy thing which is turn round and say, "Jane, it's not working." And what's more, I've been doing this without knowing it?'

Dan shrugs. 'No, that's not what I'm saying. I'm just suggesting that it's a possibility. That's all.'

'That's b.o.l.l.o.c.ks.'

Dan holds up his hands. 'Hey-don't shoot the messenger. It's just an idea.'

'Well it's a stupid idea. Why on earth would I want Jane to leave me? Particularly when we've been together for so long.'

'All I'm saying is, where relations.h.i.+ps are concerned, don't confuse length with strength. Jane was a very different person when you first met her, and as we've just seen, you were a very different person then too. What are the chances that over the last ten years you've both evolved in exactly the same direction? I mean, look at her now, quite the high-flying career woman, always chasing the next promotion, another challenge. You've been in the same job since you left college, and the biggest decision you have to make every day is what to have for lunch.'

I can't quite believe this. 'So we've grown apart? Is that what you think?'

'Possibly.'

'And therefore I've driven her away, so I can find someone more suitable?'

'Maybe.'

I shake my head. 'Well, have you considered that the problem with that approach is that it leaves me in pretty bad shape to go out and meet someone better, doesn't it?'

Dan folds his arms defensively. 'I don't make the rules, do I?'

'Thank goodness!'

Dan tries a different tack. 'So you think the two of you are still compatible?'

'Of course!'

'Well then, let me ask you this. What is it, sorry, was it, that made her so special, in your opinion?'

'Well, the way she...How she...Well, lots of things.'

'Okay. So tell me something. If you went out to a bar now and saw Jane across the room, would you fancy her? Would you think you and her could have a life together?'

I don't even have to consider my answer. 'Yes. Obviously.'

'And what do you think she'd do if she saw you for the first time now? Do you think she'd fancy you? Or would she break into a rousing chorus of "Who ate all the pies?'"

'Well, I think she'd...I mean, hope she would...' I stop myself, because Dan has picked up the two photographs and turned them round so I can see them or, more specifically, see myself in them. And suddenly, shockingly, sadly, whilst I don't like where he's going with this, I can see exactly where he's coming from.

As I sit there, struggling to come to terms with this revelation, Dan leans smugly back in his seat. Unfortunately he's forgotten that he's on a stool and nearly topples over, but even this admittedly amusing spectacle can't raise a smile from me. Embarra.s.sed, he looks around to check that no one's seen, only to catch Wendy smirking at him from behind the bar.

Dan regains his composure and drains his gla.s.s, satisfied that he's fulfilled his counselling duties for the evening.

'So, what now?' he asks.

I sigh. 'Onwards and upwards, I guess. Back in the saddle.'

Dan clinks his empty gla.s.s against mine. 'That's the spirit.'

'Any spare numbers for me in your little black book? Actually, yours is probably a big black book, isn't it?'

Dan shakes his head. 'Don't have one.'

'What? Mister I've-s.h.a.gged-more-women-than-you've-had-hot-dinners? I find that hard to believe.'

'I don't,' he insists. 'What would be the point of keeping their phone numbers?'

'So you could call them the next...Ah.' I've answered my own question. Dan does operate something of a scorched-earth policy when it comes to women.

'Exactly. Treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen, and all that. But not too keen. Don't want them getting the wrong idea.'

'Come on, Dan. Everyone wants someone special in their life, surely? Even you.'

'I've got someone special in my life.'

'Who?'

'Me.' He reaches across the table and pokes me in the stomach. 'And by the way, be careful when you make the "hot dinners" comparison, because by the looks of you, that number is pretty high.'

'Yeah, well, all those women only want to sleep with you because you're a TV personality.'

Dan looks confused. 'But I am a TV personality. I'm "TV's Dan Davis". The two things are inseparable.'

'Insufferable, more like,' says Wendy, depositing two more drinks onto our table and removing the empties. 'On the house, Edward,' she adds, giving Dan a disapproving glance.

'So, are you going to be okay?' asks Dan, once Wendy has moved out of earshot.

I put my head in my hands. 'I suppose so. I'm only thirty years old; much too young for a mid-life crisis.'

'And much too young for middle-age spread. According to Jane,' he adds, getting up and striding off towards the gents before I can think of a suitably rude reply.

As I sit self-consciously on my own at the table, a couple of attractive girls walk in and make their way towards the bar. Both bottle-blondes, they're dressed more for a Sat.u.r.day night out in Ibiza rather than a chilly Sunday evening in Brighton, and I can't work out which are the larger strips of material-the ones they're using as skirts, or the glittering pieces which barely contain their b.r.e.a.s.t.s beneath the denim jackets they're obviously unable to fasten. They order what I'd guess are a couple of Malibu-and-c.o.kes from Wendy, then the taller of the two suddenly glances over in my direction. She points across to where I'm sitting and whispers something to her friend, and when they both turn to face me, I have to fight the impulse to look over my shoulder. As I sit up straighter in my chair, they pick their drinks up and walk over towards me.

This happens all the time when I'm out with Dan, and I brace myself for the usual small talk along the lines of 'what's your friend's name?' or 'has he got a girlfriend?', before Dan puts them out of their misery and asks for a number. I quickly hide the photographs, glance across at the toilet door for reinforcements, and then it hits me-they haven't seen him yet! He was in the gents when they came in, which means it's me they're coming over to talk to. Me! Not Dan. Ha! Let myself go, have I?

Taller blondie reaches my table first, and leans down towards me, affording me a clear view of her not inconsiderable cleavage. Her chest is obviously still feeling the effect of the chilly sea air, and I have to try hard not to stare as I remember Dan's 'Nepal' comment.

'Are these two free?'

I bite off the impulse to say 'almost'. 'Pardon?'

'Is anyone sitting here?' She points at the two spare stools round the table, one of which has just been vacated by the toilet-bound Dan, and exchanges a glance with her friend.

Yes! I can still pull! I've still got it! This isn't going to be so bad, this single life. In fact, I probably won't be single for all that long. I think of the kudos I'll get when Dan comes back and sees me sitting down with these two. I can't wait to see his face. He won't mind standing up.

I change my expression from astonishment to what I hope is my most charming smile.

'No, please, feel free. My name's-'

'Thanks, love,' says taller blondie, cutting me dead. She and her friend help themselves to a stool each and head back towards a vacant table by the bar.

'But...Excuse me.'

As they both stop and swivel round on their stilettos, taller blondie peers at me before raising a badly plucked, several-shades-darker-than-the-hair-on-her-head eyebrow.

'What?' she hisses.

'It's just that, well, I thought you wanted to sit here.' I point at my table pathetically. 'With me.'

Taller blondie looks me up and down as if inspecting a sack of potatoes. And rotten ones, at that.

'Why on earth would you think that?' she says, before turning to her friend and miming horror. And as they head off and sit down, giggling between themselves, I can't work out what I'm more embarra.s.sed about-the rejection itself, or the emphasis she'd put on the word 'you'.

When Dan returns from the toilet, he stares in puzzlement at his missing stool.

'Drink up,' I tell him, leaping to my feet and quickly draining my gla.s.s. 'And don't ask.'

9.49 p.m.

As Dan walks back with me to my flat, he asks me for the millionth time if I'm going to be okay. I nod bravely, though in truth my earlier numbness is starting to wear off.

'Yup.'

'You want me to hang around?'

'Nah.' I remember that he's filming in the morning, and make some lame joke about how he needs his beauty sleep, which he doesn't contradict. When I thank him for listening, he shrugs it off.

'Don't mention it. You're my oldest friend.'

For once, he sounds like he's actually being sincere, and I get a lump in my throat.

'Thanks, mate. We do go back a long way, don't we?'

Dan grins. 'No, I do actually mean "oldest". All my other friends are a lot younger than you.'

'I appreciate you coming out. You know, missing Antiques Roadshow and everything.'

Dan shrugs. 'S'alright. I'm taping it.'

'Oh. Good.'

As I head up the steps and open my front door, Dan clears his throat behind me, and I turn to see him waiting on the pavement, holding Jane's letter out to me.

'I think you've forgotten something.'

I stare at him for a moment, before making a decision. 'Chuck it away for me, will you?'

'So, you're just going to forget about her? Move on?'

'What else can I do? Look at what she wrote. She's left me. End of story.'

'Well...' He gingerly unfolds the note and stands there, reading, for a second or two.

'Well what?'

'She doesn't exactly say that, does she?'

I walk back down the steps. 'What do you mean?'

'Well, now I read it again, it seems more like an ultimatum than a goodbye. Shape up. Sort yourself out. A wake-up call.'

Dan hands me back the somewhat creased piece of paper, and I hold it up to the street lamp, struggling to make out Jane's words, as if I've obviously missed something.

'How so?'

'Well, how she refers to the fact that you need to look at what's happened to you. And then there's the sentence: "Perhaps we'll talk...".'

'"Perhaps"? That doesn't sound very promising to me.'

Dan sighs, 'Edward, you have so much to learn. If I walked away every time a girl said "no" to me when I asked her out...'