"Maybe you will later."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Put your finger on it...Oh, I see. No. Sorry. I mean, realize what it is that"s different...Never mind."
She"s already got a drink, so I head to the bar and order myself a large gla.s.s of wine. When I sit back down opposite her. Tina smiles at me, and looks at her watch.
"Right. You"ve got three minutes."
"Oh. Right. Well..."
"Only kidding. So, Ed. Tell me a little more about yourself."
"Gosh. Where to start?" Probably not with the Jane stuff. "There"s not much to tell, really."
"Go on."
"No, honestly. There"s really not much to tell."
I talk a little about my job, careful not to give too much away, then try and turn the conversation round. "What about you? What do you do?"
"Oh, I work with lager."
I don"t know quite how to process this. Is she telling me she works at a brewery, or is some kind of weird frozen beer sculptor?
"What?"
"Lager. It"s a charity. Lesbian and Gay Equal Rights."
Ah. I"d forgotten for a moment that we lived in Be-right-on. "That sounds...I don"t know what I"m supposed to say about that. But you"re not...Are you?"
Tina laughs. Fortunately. "Oh no. It"s just a job. But I do believe in equal rights for all. Don"t you?"
"Oh yes. Absolutely."
"None of this gender stereotyping, for example."
"I couldn"t agree more."
"Great," she says, holding out her empty gla.s.s. "Now get me another drink, please."
8.02 p.m.
"I"m a little hungry," says Tina. "I didn"t get a chance to eat earlier. Shall we order some food?"
I can"t believe that this "early evening date" tactic of Dan"s actually works. Deciding to follow the rest of his strategy, I look around at what other people are eating. Sadly, Caribbean cuisine doesn"t seem to feature many spaghetti dishes.
"Here? Or shall we go for an Italian?"
Tina looks at me a little strangely. "Italian? Why?"
"No reason," I reply, picking up the menu sheepishly.
9.34 p.m.
The evening still seems to be going well. I"m having a pleasant time, Tina appears to be having a pleasant time, and as we chat over our food, I"m starting to see how this dating business can be fun. And it is fun, up until the point where we get on to past relationships. Tina tells me about the six or so boyfriends she"s had since leaving college, and how she thought she"d give speed dating a try as obviously her work hasn"t proved to be the best environment to meet single men. At least, not single men who aren"t interested in other single men.
It"s a little smoky in the bar, and my new lenses are starting to call out for a little more lubrication, which, of course, is making my eyes water. At the same time, I"m giving Tina an-admittedly abridged-version of what"s happened with Jane and me, leaving out the fact that I"ve gone through this whole process to try to win her back, and deciding not to point out that Tina is, in fact, a trial run for Jane"s imminent return.
I get to the bit about Jane leaving for Tibet and dab at my eyes, which are running quite freely now, with my napkin. When Tina suddenly puts her hand on mine, it"s all I can do not to pull away in shock.
"You poor thing," she says. "If it"s too upsetting for you, we can talk about something else."
"No. That"s fine. It"s just I..." I consider telling her it"s my new contact lenses, but then she might remove her hand.
Tina reaches up to my face and wipes away a tear that"s running down my cheek.
"Don"t worry," she says. "These things get easier with time."
Funny. That"s just what my optician said.
10.25 p.m.
We"re arguing already, but in a nice way, struggling to hear each other above the noise in the bar.
"Tina, I asked you out. That means I"m paying."
"But that"s just reinforcing outmoded social conventions."
"It"s only right that I pay. After all, in caveman days, if we"d wanted to eat, I"d have hunted it down and killed it."
Tina stares at her plate. "A salad? Besides, we"re not in caveman days any more."
"Are we not?" I nod towards the stag do in the corner, where the Elvis impersonators are taking turns to climb on the table and sing. "I"m worried we"ll go deaf. And it sounds like some of them already are."
Tina glances over at them without releasing her grip on the bill. "They are making a bit of a din."
"Is it Elvises? Or Elvi?"
Tina cups her hand to her ear. "What?"
"I said, is it Elvises..."
Tina smiles. "I heard you. I was making a joke. About the noise."
"What"s wrong with my nose?"
"No, I said...Ah. Touche."
We have definitely had a good time, but not as much of a good time as the-well, whatever the collective term for a group of Elvis Presley look-alikes is, who are now all standing on the table, belting out "Love Me Tender" at the tops of their voices.
"Shall we go?"
Tina just nods, we agree to split the bill, and head outside, strolling back along Western Road to where her car is parked. As Tina blips the door open, she turns to me, then surprises me by leaning in and kissing me on the mouth. Before I can even purse my lips in response, she breaks away.
"Thanks," she says. "Tonight was fun."
I don"t quite know how to react. I"ve not kissed another woman on the lips since Jane left, and to be honest, I hadn"t kissed Jane on the lips for a while by then anyway, so in truth, this is one of the most exciting things that"s happened to me in ages. I"m trying to work out what my response should be when Tina shivers in the chilly evening.
"Where do you live?"
I indicate back along past the restaurant. "Oh, not far. Just about five minutes that way."
"Jump in. I"ll give you a lift."
"No, that"s OK. I don"t mind walking."
Tina gets into the driver"s seat, then leans across and opens her pa.s.senger door. "Come on," she says. "I won"t bite. Unless you want me to."
I don"t know what to do. If I get into the car, who knows where that will lead. If I don"t, I can just kiss this evening, and Tina, goodbye. Which of course, I"m supposed to, because after all, this is just a trial run for when Jane gets back. What I am sure of is that she"s flirting with me. Big time. And in a guilty way, I like it.
After a moment"s hesitation, and more because I"m cold than for any other reason, I get in.
"Buckle up," she says, with a mischievous smile. "Better to be safe than sorry."
For the first time in ages, there"s a parking spot right outside my front door. G.o.d, or more likely the devil, must be smiling down on me, so instead of having to double park and drop me off, Tina"s able to pull her car into the s.p.a.ce. We sit there awkwardly for a moment before I move to open my door.
"Thanks for the lift. I"d ask you in for a coffee, but..."
Tina stares straight ahead. "Oh. I see."
"No, it"s not that. It"s just that I don"t have any coffee. I forgot to buy some. I"ve got tea..."
Tina looks at me for a few moments, as if she"s weighing something up, then switches the engine off and unbuckles her seatbelt. "Tea would be lovely. But..."
"But what?"
"But I"m not going to sleep with you tonight, Ed. I"m not that kind of girl."
I"m stunned. "Nor am I. I mean, I"m not that kind of boy. Man, I mean."
Tina raises one eyebrow, "Yeah, right."
As we walk up my front steps, I try frantically to work out what Tina"s "I"m not going to sleep with you tonight" means. Is it simply to leave me in no doubt that we"re going inside just for a cup of tea? Or does the "tonight" part suggest something more, as in "but I might another night"? For the first time, I envy Dan"s simplistic approach.
When I show Tina inside, she takes one look around the lounge and whistles appreciatively. "Nice place. And cool furniture."
I have to stop myself from punching the air. "Thanks." And thanks, Dan. Or rather, thanks Alexis.
Tina sits down on the sofa, and I nip off into the kitchen, hurriedly removing my photos from the front of the fridge, then put the kettle on, before sticking my head back through the kitchen door.
"How do you take it?"
Tina makes a mock-horror face. "I beg your pardon?"
"Your tea."
"I know, Edward. I"m teasing you. Milk no sugar, please. And can I use your bathroom?"
I show Tina where the bathroom is, then head back into the kitchen, feeling pretty pleased with myself. As I make the tea, I begin to feel more relaxed. At least Tina"s set out her position up front. There"s going to be none of this first-date fumbling, wondering where it"s going to lead, and I"ll be able to emerge from this evening knowing that I"ve managed to go through the motions and entertain a woman on a date. After all, that"s the whole point of this exercise, I remind myself.
When I walk back in with the mugs of tea, Tina"s still in the bathroom, but this presents me with my second dilemma-do I sit next to her, or rather, take the safer option of the armchair? But what am I thinking? Of course it should be the armchair. I put Tina"s mug down on the coffee table in front of where she"s been sitting, and take mine over to the chair.
As I sit down with my tea, it occurs to me that I should probably put some music on. I rest my mug in its usual place on the arm of my chair and go to stand up, but I"ve forgotten that this isn"t my old armchair, with wide, flat-topped armrests, but my new trendy leather armchair, with elegantly curved and inward-sloping armrests. What would therefore normally be a solid, secure place for a cup of hot, recently boiled liquid is now a precarious balance point, so much so that the second I let go of my mug it tips inwards, depositing its boiling contents straight into my lap.
With a yell, I leap up and out of the chair as the steaming liquid scalds my thighs, and its all I can do to undo my belt and drop my trousers, trying to stop the tea-sodden material from blistering my privates.
When Tina runs back into the room, having heard the commotion, she"s greeted by the sight of me, trousers around my ankles, shuffling towards her. This would be bad enough on its own, but the fact that I"m repeating the phrase "f.u.c.k me!" at the top of my voice probably doesn"t add to her sense of comfort and security at being alone in my flat with me.
As Tina rushes past me, grabs her handbag, and makes her escape, she doesn"t even stop to close the front door behind her.
And at least I appreciate the nice cool breeze.
11.14 p.m.
I"m sitting round at Dan"s, wearing a clean pair of trousers, holding very carefully onto my mug of tea, and telling him about my date.
"Well, look on the bright side," he says, once he"s eventually stopped laughing, which admittedly takes him a long, long time. "At least you don"t have to worry about telling her you can"t see her again."
"Maybe."
But the truth is, I"m already experiencing a new feeling. Not hurt from missing Jane, and not pain from my daily torture sessions with Sam, but it hasn"t taken me long to realize what this one is. Guilt. What was I thinking? In a few days my girlfriend, and yes, I think I can still use that word, is coming back from her "holiday", and here"s me flirting with another woman. Going out for a drink with another woman. Even inviting her back to my flat.
Dan takes one look at my glum expression. "What"s the matter with you?"
"What do you think? I could have been unfaithful to Jane, and now I"m going to have to tell her."
"Whoa. Unfaithful? I thought you said that nothing happened."
"It didn"t. But I can"t guarantee that it wouldn"t have. Or that I didn"t want it too."
"Hold on," says Dan. "Those two things are quite different. And besides, do you think Jane"s over there being faithful to you?"
"I don"t know. I don"t want to think about what she might be getting up to."
"So why are you even going to bother telling her about what you didn"t get up to tonight?"
"Because it"s important to be honest."