The Ex-Boyfriend's Handbook Part 39

And it goes well. The girls seem interested in me. They laugh at my jokes. 'You obviously work out,' someone says to me. 'I like your suit,' says another. I see a couple of them 'tick' me before my time is up, and one girl, Tina, even gives me a slip of paper with her phone number on it. In general, they all seem to be having a good time, and apart from one embarra.s.sing incident when one of them tells me she loves gigs, and I think she means the Manchester United footballer, I have a good time too.

I'm on a high when I nervously take my seat in front of Melanie again, and wait for her to start laying into me. But this time, and to my astonishment, she starts off by smiling warmly at me.

I nearly blow it when I ask her what she likes to do with her spare time, and her answer takes me a little by surprise. I have to get her to explain.

'I'm sorry?' I say. 'Sleeping with strangers?'

Melanie's face runs through confusion, shock, and then realization, but then, fortunately, she laughs.

'No, Ed. I love to swim. Not swing.'

And I'm so amazed by the difference in her that it's a full minute-one third of our allotted time together-before I realize something very important, and it's something that causes me to sit up straight with pride. It's not that she doesn't remember me.

It's that she doesn't recognize me.

Sunday 10th April.

1.04 p.m.

I'm sitting at the bar, telling Dan about my evening. When I get to the part about Tina giving me her number, I have to stop him from ordering champagne.

'So what are you going to do?' he asks, staring in admiration at the sc.r.a.p of paper on the table in front of me.

'What do you mean, "what am I going to do"? Nothing, of course. Have you forgotten why I'm doing all this?'

Dan shrugs. 'Nope, but I was hoping you had.'

'Jane's back in a week, Dan. My entire future happiness hangs on what she thinks when she sees me. I'm hardly going to want to jeopardize that, am I?'

'Which is exactly why you should call Tina. Go out with her.'

'You mean think of it as a dry run for when Jane gets back?'

Dan nods. 'Yup. Because you don't want Jane to smell the paint.'

I sniff the arm of my jacket. 'What on earth are you talking about?'

'When you see Jane for the first time. You don't want her to smell the paint.'

I'm still no clearer. 'What?'

'Like the Queen.'

'Have you been drinking?'

'The Queen thinks the world smells of paint.'

'You have been drinking.'

Dan emits a long-suffering sigh. 'Everywhere she visits has just been painted. You know-to look good for when she comes. And she knows it, because she can smell the paint. Same thing applies to you and Jane. You need to be comfortable in your new skin. Otherwise Jane will see straight through it.'

'Why? Surely I've proved things now. I don't repel women any more.'

'Maybe so. And perhaps you can even attract the odd one, and I mean that in both senses of the word "odd", but how about sustaining it past the initial attraction? If you can't manage that for an evening, how do you think you're going to do it for the rest of your life?'

Tuesday 12th April.

7.44 p.m.

When I meet up with Dan in the Admiral Jim, he's looking more than a little cheesed off. What's more, and unusually for Dan, he's drinking beer and eating a hot dog.

'Careful. Those things will kill you.'

'Hark at you, mister healthy living convert.'

I make a face. 'Do you know what they put into them?'

'Don't tell me,' orders Dan. 'It's like women with breast implants. I don't want to think how they're made-I just want to enjoy the end result.' He holds the hot dog out towards me. 'Like a bite?'

'No thank you!'

'How about a beer then?' he says, waving his bottle in front of me. Dan rarely drinks beer, but when he does, it's only ever that expensive, cloudy, scented stuff brewed in some obscure Belgian monastery.

'You know I would. But not for another,' I consult my watch, 'four days and twelve hours, sadly.'

'Is that all you've got left?'

I nod, thankfully. 'My odyssey is nearly over.'

'Your odd what?'

'My journey of self-discovery. My mission to find the inner me.'

Dan takes a mouthful of beer. 'Your quest for a s.h.a.g, you mean.'

'What's the matter with you? Bad day at the office?'

'You could say that.'

I catch Wendy's eye, signalling her to come over when she's ready. 'Do you want to tell me about it?'

Dan sighs. 'Well, today, after weeks of filming, where all we've found are c.r.a.ppy old toys and naff "antiques" that date from the early Formica period, we finally come across someone who's been left something half decent.'

'Which was?'

'I dunno. I'm not the antiques expert, am I? Some sort of crystal decanter thing that Digby practically got a hard-on about. Two hundred years old, apparently. Worth a small fortune.'

'Well, that's good news, isn't it?'

Dan grimaces. 'It would have been.'

'What do you mean, "would have been"?'

'If I hadn't dropped it. On camera.'

I have to stifle a laugh. 'How did you manage that?'

'Well, I was trying to be funny, you know, by pretending to drop it.'

'But instead, you "actually" dropped it?'

'That's about the size of it.'

'Ouch. So what's happened.'

'Well, firstly, we've had to recompense the couple. Secondly, of course, we can't put the programme out, so that's a whole two days' filming wasted, and thirdly...'

'Thirdly?'

'They've given me a warning. One more thing and I'm out. Banished to the wasteland that is free-to-air.'

'One more thing? What else have you done?'

'You know.' Dan blushes slightly. 'The thing with that chap's wife.'

'Ah, yes.' Dan had been caught trying to make a move on one of the bereaved couples' wives. 'Not the best career move, perhaps?'

'Yes, well, she was begging for it.'

'Dan, that's not a very nice thing to say. I mean, I know they call it their hour of need...'

'No, really. She was actually begging for it. Down on her knees, and everything.'

'And that's when her husband saw the two of you.'

'Exactly Didn't quite believe my "dropped contact lens" excuse.'

'Quite.'

'I tell you, sometimes it's hard being "TV's Dan Davis". Every time I meet someone they're expecting me to be this perfect person they've seen on television, with flawlessly scripted lines, whereas the reality is...' Dan stops talking, and downs the remainder of his beer.

'What's the reality, mate?'

Dan sighs. 'That sometimes I need my lines written for me. Maybe that's why my relations.h.i.+ps don't last. Because they see through the gloss and realize that I'm pretty much just what it says on the tin.'

I put a rea.s.suring hand on his shoulder. 'And there was me thinking it was because you never call them the next morning. Anyway, look on the bright side.'

'Don't you b.l.o.o.d.y start.'

'I'm serious. At least you've got something for It'll Be All Right on the Night 207, or whatever number they're up to now.'

Dan brightens slightly. 'I hadn't thought of that.'

When Wendy appears, I order my usual sparkling water, and buy Dan a refill.

'Five pounds fifty, please,' she says, placing the bottle down carefully on the bar. 'Four pounds of which is for Dan's beer, by the way.'

'Blimey,' I say. 'I thought it was brewed by monks?'

'Well, they've obviously got expensive habits,' she replies.

There's a pause, before Wendy and I collapse in a fit of childish laughter, filled only by the whoos.h.i.+ng sound of her joke flying way over Dan's head.

Wednesday 13th April.

7.09 p.m.

We've arranged to meet for drinks at Bar Bados, a Caribbean-themed bar-restaurant on Western Road. The place is quite busy already, and rather noisy, mainly due to the table full of Elvis impersonators, probably out on a stag do, in one corner.

I'm a little late, having had to unscrew the u-bend underneath my sink when one of my contact lenses fell down the plug hole, and peer anxiously around the gloomy interior until I spot Tina in one of the corner booths. I'm pleased, and not a little relieved, when she smiles and waves me over-last time I did this the person thought I was someone else.

'Hi, Ed,' she says.

I'm not sure whether I should kiss her h.e.l.lo or shake her hand, given that we've only previously spent a total of three minutes in each other's company. She'll lead you, Dan had said, but when Tina just sits there, smiling up at me, I realize I'm not getting any clues. I settle for sitting down opposite her, and against my better judgement, try to remember Dan's dating advice. Ah yes-start with a compliment.

'You look nice.'

'Thanks,' says Tina. 'So do you. I'm glad you called.'

'Well, I'm glad you gave me your number.'

Tina blushes slightly. 'I don't normally do that sort of thing. It's just that there was something about you. Something different to the guys who normally come to those things.'

'Oh yes?' I ask, fis.h.i.+ng slightly. 'Which was?'

Tina regards me quizzically. 'I can't quite put my finger on it.'