15 January
I meet Jessica after work. We are supposed to be going to the cinema. We were originally supposed to be going out on the Southbank but she can’t be bothered. I can’t either so am secretly relieved.
A repeat of the cinema-gate incident with Sean last year ensues. And some. I’m at the ‘wrong’ one. Jeepers. There are two Odeon’s in Chelsea guys! She is at the ‘right’ one but it’s closed. Closed! We go for drinks at The Bluebird instead.
We sit at the bar. It’s cool in here. My new discovery is vodka and slimline tonic which I test drive tonight. Only 50 calories! Woo-hoo!
‘I don’t think you’ve ever given him the idea you are interested!’ she says when I tell her about the latest with Charlie.
‘Why can’t he just hang back?’ I ask about the other man in my life. I show her Sean’s message.
‘It’s because you mean so much to him.’
‘I just want some away from him.’
We then update on other news.
‘I’ve got a second interview at that agency!’ I tell her. The one I want to get, on principle, as Conor wants a job there.
‘That would be so good.’
‘I know. There are two gyms round there aren’t there.’ It’s near her work.
‘Yes.’
‘When do you have time to go? I don’t know how people fit it in with work!’
‘Weekend and evenings.’
‘I know that! It’s just this job is already taking it out of me.’
She smiles.
‘I need to work a four day week. I need three days to wind down.’
‘Poor R. You’re so delicate.’
‘I am!’
‘I told Conor about the black on his teeth.’
‘How did you tell him?’
‘When we were shopping. I saw it and told him he needs to go to a hygienist.’
‘Do you think he will?’
‘Maybe. It’s on his radar.’
‘He doesn’t care.’
‘He wants people to be interested in him. In a way that’s good,’ I say.
‘You’re on the opposite end of the spectrum… but he needs to know that girls don’t like dirt.’
I laugh.
‘I’m looking older,’ I say. Needing some reassurance.
Jessica looks at me intensely.
‘You will monitor me won’t you?’ I ask.
‘Ye-e-e-es.’
‘I look older. I’ve aged this year.’
‘No more than any other year.’ Wrong answer Jessica. She picks up my subliminal message.
‘You don’t look 16 now. More like… 21.’
‘Hmmm.’
‘You look hot.’
‘Do you like my gilet?’ I ask. Changing the subject. Secretly thinking maybe I could investigate options for having a facelift.
‘Yes. I was going to say… where did you get it?’
‘Asos.’
Thinking about the cultural night out that wasn’t I remember that last date I had with The Possible One.
‘That guy I went out hasn’t logged on since before the date.’
‘I think he met someone.’
‘I don’t.’
‘Maybe something has happened to him then!’
Trapped under the same rock as all of Claudia’s men.
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About
‘When I grow up I’m going to marry a prince, Granny.’
Fast forward 27 years. I’m a hot, successful, kind and affectionate, officially ‘grown up’ girl-about-town. Still in search of The One. It’s New Year’s Eve and I’m in bed. Alone. Tanked up on Valium.
The quest has been active now for the best part of 20 years. I know he’s out there. I just need to find out where and how to find him. Things have got to change.
2009 is going to be my year. I just know it. So I have decided to document my experiences to amuse more than anything else. In so doing, the creative process may provide some kind of personal enlightenment and help face my demons too. And who knows. The journey may lead me to my prince. And where the chronicles begin.
