Life... With No Breaks (A laugh-out-loud comedy memoir) (14 page)

And no, I don’t know why he’s wearing a sombrero either. It clashes with the bright blue shorts and orange tank top he’s wearing, I know that much.

Okay.

Now it’s daylight and we’ve livened up a bit, let’s get into the whole business of my failed marriage.

It isn’t going to be pretty, I assure you.

Maybe I should include one of those warnings like you see on movie posters:

Warning: The following chapter contains scenes that may be unsuitable for small children and newly-weds.

My wife’s name was Sophie - a name I still think is beautiful, despite the slings and arrows of our marriage.

Look
… I’m using the word
was
as if she’s passed away. She hasn’t, it’s just easier than writing
ex-wife
, something I’ll never like doing as long as I live.

Let me lead you down the long path of memory to the time when I first met her:

Here we are then, standing in a popular high street electronics shop.

That’s me, leaning on the camera display with a vacant expression on my face. It’s getting on for five thirty in the afternoon and we haven’t had a customer for nearly an hour, so I’m passing the time thinking up new and exciting ways to avoid sponges.

Don’t look like a happy boy, do I?

Not surprising really.

I’m now twenty five and find myself in a position that I didn’t plan on when I was eighteen. By now I’d completed my degree and was entertaining plans of starting a career in journalism.

Therefore, it came as a huge shock to find myself working as a trainee assistant manager in Currys.

The reason for this is annoyingly prosaic: I need money.

I was as poor as the church mouse’s less solvent brother when I left university and had to take the first job that came along.

Well, that’s a lie.

I actually spent the first year after my degree pompously telling everyone that normal work was beneath a person of my talent and I wouldn’t get a job until it was one that suited my unspeakable talents.

This notion was soon kicked out of my head when I ran out of savings, ran up a huge overdraft and had to move back into my parent’s house.

So along comes the job at Currys.

The pay is low and the hours are long, but it gives me enough money to stave off the wolves and pay the rent.

It’s also an easy job.

I spend my entire day telling customers just how great the ten times optical zoom on that Kodak is, or explaining the finer points of Sky to the slightly confused pensioners standing in front of me looking like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck.

The guy I work with most of the time is a genial sort of bloke called Adam.       

Adam is also a university graduate, who has inexplicably found himself working as the manager of an electrical shop, despite being assured by his careers advisor that a job as an architect would be a guaranteed dead-cert once he’d graduated.

We have quite a lot in common.

He’s not afraid of sponges but can’t stand chickens. We both like a nice cold beer to go with our cigarettes and enjoy a good porno as much as the next man. He loves BMWs, and spends a great deal of time telling me how great they are and how I should buy one as soon as I can afford it. He’s never crapped himself in public, but has thrown up over a policeman, which is pretty bad in itself.

A firm friendship builds over a few months and as we reach the day my wife walks into my life for the first time, I’m happy to have found a mate on my wavelength.

…Adam is currently sitting over there at the counter, playing patience on the computer and puffing his cheeks out periodically in the time-honoured gesture of boredom.

Is the scene set firmly in your mind?

Good. Then let’s bring in the star.

I’m turning to walk over to Adam, curious as to whether he’s beaten his computer opponent yet, when a girl walks into the store and my life changes.

She’s beautiful…

She’s graceful…

She has
big
tits
.

Her hair is a deep shade of brunette and swings behind her back in a glorious cascade of body and vitality… you can tell I write marketing copy, can’t you?

She has large, luminous eyes and a soft expression that in no way betrays the steel she’s got running down her spine.

Her nose is a tiny bit on the large side, but fits into the rest of her face well enough not to notice most of the time.

She’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt - tight enough to let me notice those boobs - and wears them in that effortless way some women have of dressing scruffy, but looking like a million dollars at the same time.

I register all this in the couple of seconds it takes her to walk into the shop.

My senses have become heightened and my heart has started to beat a little faster. A smile spreads across my face as she nears and I start to think of a witty and friendly thing to say that’ll put her at ease.

The smile drops off my face faster than the trim on a French car when she changes direction and makes a bee-line for Adam, who is now investigating the contents of his left ear hole with a prospecting finger.

Oh fabulous
, I think.

The first attractive woman I’ve seen in months and she’s going over to chat to Adam - who in my opinion is far less handsome than me and doesn’t deserves the attention of such a fine looking woman.

As she approaches him, a grin spreads across Adam’s face and I find myself fantasising about scooping his eyes out with a rusty spoon. I’ve gone from a state of boredom to nervous excitement and into rampant jealousy all in the space of thirty seconds.

Then Adam says something that makes me glad to be alive:

‘Hi, sis!’

Sis?

Sister
!

She’s his sister! Fantastic!

My mood takes an upswing immediately - then dips again when I realise that all the time I’ve known Adam he hasn’t mentioned being related to this lovely creature once.

Why not?

Why have I never met her before?

Has he been keeping me away from her?

Maybe he’s one of those protective brothers who police their sister’s relationships with a ruthlessness that’d make any Gestapo officer proud.

…or maybe she’s already taken and he’s been trying to spare me the misery of being in the vicinity of such a goddess, knowing I can never have her.

Then, she speaks:

‘Alright, toss-face. I see you’re working hard again.’

‘Yep. What have you been up to? Selling your body to the local perverts outside Tesco again?’

How dare he!

How dare he insult this beauty in such a way!

My attitude has of course been coloured by my burgeoning desire and I’ve forgotten that one man’s ideal woman is another’s annoying little sister - who deserves a Chinese burn at every opportunity.

Instead of being mortally offended by her brother’s comment, Sophie gives him a vicious rabbit punch to the upper arm and pokes her tongue out.

I’m in love
.

I don’t have time to change into a nice suit. I don’t have time to comb my hair and gargle with mouth wash. I don’t have time to rehearse a suitable chat up line.

I do have time to take a deep breath and compose myself, before sauntering over and interrupting their conversation.

Sophie looks round as I approach.

Adam, being a man and knowing of such things, sees the way my demeanour has changed and gives me a speculative grin, leaning back in his chair to watch proceedings unfold with a delighted and expectant look on his face.

This is a ritual he’s seen a few times and enjoys it every time.

I can only take it as a good sign that he hasn’t taken one look at me, started shaking his head and sketching the sign of the cross. Must mean his sister isn’t entirely unapproachable.

‘Hello,’ I say.

‘Hello’, she says back.

The following conversation was one that took place on two levels, where the subtext was totally different from what’s being verbalised, like so:

 ‘I didn’t know Adam had a sister.’

Translation: I’m delighted Adam has a sister and I’ve automatically got a leg up on all the other men that have tried it on with you because he’s my mate.

 ‘Yeah. He’s a pain in neck, but sometimes he’s alright.’

Translation: OK, sonny boy. I’ve got your number. You’re thinking just because your mate is my brother, it’ll give you swift access to my underpants. Don’t count your bloody chickens. However, you’re not bad looking so I’m happy to engage in a conversation with you, for the time being at least.

 ‘He’s never mentioned you before. What’s your name?’

Translation: Your brother is in fact a complete bastard and I will be having words with him about neglecting to introduce us. What’s your name? Please don’t let it be Nora, Enid or Helga.

 ‘Sophie. Yours?’

Translation: You’re not doing badly so far, sport. Keep it up and who knows what’ll happen.

 ‘My name’s Nick. Nice to see somebody got the looks in your family, this ugly bastard here certainly didn’t.’

Translation: Yes, I’ve just paid you a massive compliment. I would like to insert my penis in you at the nearest opportunity. Furthermore, I’m showing you how close my relationship is with your brother with some good natured insults, as this might improve my chances.

 ‘Fuck off, dickhead,’
 Adam tells me.

Translation: I’m loving every second of this. Unlike you Spalding, I’m totally at ease right now and am thoroughly entertained by your efforts to pull my little sister. You’re my mate and I’d be pleased to see you going out with her, but keep the details to yourself please. Oh, and if you hurt her, I’ll rip your spine out.

 ‘Thanks very much. He is an ugly little troll, isn’t he?’
says Sophie.

Translation: Yes, I like you. Congratulations. You’ve got over the first hurdle and haven't come across like a complete wanker. I’m happy with the way things are going and my first impression is favourable. I’m looking forward to the second stage of negotiations. My pants are staying on for the minute though pal, I’m not easy.

The conversation went on for about fifteen minutes.

It turned out Sophie had come in to tell Adam that their mum wanted him to call her about his doctor’s appointment last week - meeting a guy was the last thing on her mind.

This is usually the case when bumping into your future partner.

You can be guaranteed that all the time you’re desperately searching for miss or mister right, they’ll never happen across your path. But the second all thoughts of love and communion are out of your head: there they’ll be, opening up a whole new world of possibilities.

Sophie turns to leave the store, administering a friendly poke to her brother and a winning smile at me as she does so. And yes, she does look back round as she walks out of the shop.

Excellent
.

Nothing has passed between us that would suggest the foundations of a love affair or anything. I haven’t asked her out on a date or declared my undying love. But I like to think some groundwork has been laid and the next time we meet, I’ll have the chance to really get stuck in and charm her properly.

Once she’s gone I start to interrogate Adam.

To begin with, I fake an air of casual interest, but by the time he starts to give me the kind of answers I want to hear, my true feelings have come out.

Adam’s replies to my searching questions go something like this:

‘She’s twenty four Nick… She works in a florist Nick… Yes, she’s single Nick… No, I don’t know if she’s happy being that way Nick… No, I don’t know if she’d like it if you asked her out Nick, but you’re welcome to give it a go... She’s been away in Scotland with our dad for the past few months Nick, that’s why you’ve never met her… No, I’m sure she didn’t meet anyone up there, she would have told me Nick... I’m seeing her at the weekend Nick… Yes, I’ll ask her what she thought of you when I do Nick.’

The poor bloke was getting more and more cheesed-off with the bombardment of questions and was no doubt relieved when the end of the day came.

When I got into work, I had no idea I’d be in love nine hours later.

That’s how it works, isn’t it?

Love doesn’t account for the clock, or schedules or calendars. It doesn’t care what you’re doing with your life or what plans you may have. It waits for you, like a lion in the high grass waits for a passing antelope.

And like a lion, love looks soft and beautiful - but has
claws
.

It took three weeks to see Sophie again and the time went by painfully slowly.

Adam saw her and did his duty as a friend by letting her know I was interested - something she no doubt realised herself anyway. He then did his duty as a brother by letting me know her positive - if guarded - reaction.

Eventually, he manufactured a night down the pub with his girlfriend and invited both of us along.

The evening went astronomically well.

I was dressed in dashing casual gear. I felt good. I smelt good. I remained virtually sober throughout the whole thing, not wanting to ruin my chances with any stupid drink related cock-ups.

Sophie and I got on like a house on fire.

We talked about work, university, my ambitions to be a writer. At some point Adam and his girlfriend made their excuses and Sophie and I continued to chat until closing time.

It was
wonderful
.

I drove her home, as any honourable knight-in-shining-armour would, and she favoured me with a gentle kiss on the cheek when I saw her inside.

We planned to meet up again at the cinema, and I drove home at roughly four hundred feet above the tarmac.

The movie we went to see was Saving Private Ryan - her choice.

I put my arm around her as she cried softly during the harrowing parts.