The List (28 page)

‘STOP IT!' I shouted, and then leaned in to whisper in his ear. ‘Listen,' I said, ‘I get to do whatever I like. You don't even get to touch me.' Then I kissed him hard and straddled him. I fucked him slowly and he even let me put my finger up his bum. Which felt weird but I coped by not looking directly at it, like the final scene from
Raiders of the Lost Ark
.

When we'd finished he said, ‘Undo my wrists. I need to feel you.' So I did and we lay down in bed and cuddled and listened to Johnny Cash. Fucking cuddled? Dominatrixes don't cuddle and listen to Johnny Cash; we are complete bastards and we listen to Rammstein.

Friday August 19th

Today dragged on. Every customer I called was either on holiday or had already left for the day, leaving me twiddling my thumbs and counting down the minutes until wine o'clock. Lucy and I planned to go for half-price cocktails in Merchant City. I grabbed a seat in the courtyard while Lucy fetched our drinks. Relieved to no longer be at work, I kicked off my shoes and happily wiggled my toes under the table savouring my half-price mojito. I was listening to her yabbering on about her latest man, a tree surgeon who can
hold her up with one arm while they're shagging, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was James: baked-bean-phobic James. I couldn't believe it! With nearly 600,000 people living in Glasgow, you'd think I'd be able to avoid bumping into the ghosts of boyfriends past. ‘Phoebe! I can't believe it. God, it's been forever. Are you good?'

It'd been ten years since we went out, but he hadn't changed. Well, perhaps greyer, but that's not a bad thing. Our relationship was fun at times but it finally ended when I realized that behind the gorgeous exterior lay a man with no discernible personality and a tendency to refer to his ‘sack' a lot. Beyond annoying. ‘How are you, James?' I asked, rising to hug him. ‘Wow. What are you up to these days? Sorry, this is my friend Lucy.'

He lowered himself into the empty chair beside Lucy, shaking her hand. ‘Still in the building trade, but I took over the company after Dad retired. You?'

‘Newspaper sales. It's dreadful. So, are you married?'

‘No. You?'

‘No.'

‘Good. We should catch up properly. How about dinner tomorrow? My place?'

From the corner of my eye I could see Lucy grinning, so mostly for reasons of nostalgia and curiosity I agreed.

‘Great. Here's my number. Text me your address and I'll pick you up. Sorry to run, but I'm already late to meet a customer. Nice to meet you, Lucy.' And with that he was off.

‘He's cute. You'll shag him,' Lucy observed, taking a sip of wine. ‘Big windaes, Phoebe; I can see that one coming a mile off.'

‘Not necessarily,' I replied. ‘We broke up for a reason, remember?'

‘Well, I didn't know you or him back then, but from what I've just seen, he's fucking fit. I would.'

‘He did look good, didn't he?' I grinned stupidly.

I've certainly changed in ten years. How could he not have? Maybe this is a sign?! I said I wanted a boyfriend, I didn't stipulate it had to be a new one … Why did we break up again?

Saturday August 20th

James picked me up tonight, we got a takeaway and spent the entire car journey to his place chatting about old times and unashamedly eyeing each other up. Despite thinking that he'd been a twat all those years ago, I couldn't see any evidence of it now; perhaps I'd been too harsh. I still found him enormously attractive. I went into his tiny kitchen with him to help plate up dinner and as I reached up to get a glass from the shelf, he took me by surprise and kissed me. It was awful – wet, sloppy and it felt like he was tonguing my entire face. I gingerly moved away from his mouth and wandered back into the living room, wondering whether he used to kiss like that and I'd just known no better at the time or blocked the experience from my memory. We began to eat and it took exactly fifteen minutes to remember the rest of the reason why dumping him was the smartest move I've ever made. He said ‘sack' seven times (I counted), ate with his mouth open, and when he started to tell me that his girlfriend of three years was at a wedding in India
I practically had a fit and left promptly with a ‘fuck you' and the prawn crackers. WHY DO I BOTHER?

Monday August 22nd

I had flowers delivered for me to the office today. Me! Flowers! A huge bunch of pink lilies, smelling like heaven and wrapped in a bow. This has never happened before and I'm sure the look of confusion on my face was apparent to the rest of the office.

Kelly stood up at her desk. ‘Are they for you? Who sent them? They're a bit much.'

‘They're gorgeous!' squealed Lucy. ‘Do you have a secret admirer?'

‘I have no idea!' I answered excitedly. ‘Let me read the card.'

I'm sorry. Alex xx

My heart sank and my face began to flush. The entire office stared at me, waiting for me to announce the sender. ‘They're from my mum,' I said. ‘No mystery man. Just my mum.'

Lucy walked over and took the card out of my hand. She read it, and then placed it back in the tiny envelope.

‘How very thoughtful.' She smiled. ‘I'll just go and put these in some water for you.'

That was the last I saw of those flowers.

When Oliver came round this evening, I was so annoyed we ended up fighting.

‘It's not my fault he sent you flowers. Why the fuck are you shouting at me?'

‘Because there's no one else here and I'm angry about this whole sorry mess. I thought they were from you. Why the fuck couldn't
you
have sent me the flowers?'

‘Why the fuck would I send you flowers? You're insane. And sweaty in that jumper.'

I made a frustrated groan and pulled the jumper over my head, leaving me standing in my bra and jeans with my hair messed up. ‘Happy now?'

‘You're a sexy bitch. Shut the fuck up,' he said, and threw me on the floor where we had really angry sex. Afterwards I apologized. Not for being a sexy bitch, for being a dickhead.

‘He's just playing mind games with you. Do you want me to have a word with him?'

‘No, don't, Oliver. I don't want to give him any reason to get in touch with me.'

‘Don't let him mess with you. Not again, Phoebe. You're far too good for him, I hope you know that.'

‘I know,' I said, looking at Oliver. ‘Sometimes I wonder if the big love of my life was that weasel. What a depressing thought.'

He remained silent for a while, and when I got up to use the bathroom he said, ‘What happens when you finish your list? Do we just stop this?'

‘I suppose so.'

And for a fleeting moment I hoped he'd come up with a reason not to stop. But he didn't. Why would he? He has Ruth now.

Thursday August 25th

So I texted Alex telling him, once again, that I'm not interested. I've been tempted to tell Miss Tits what he's been up to, but I know he'd say that I sent the flowers myself and I'll end up looking like a psycho. This year was supposed to be about getting rid of the old and starting anew, but that bastard won't let me forget him.

Tuesday August 30th

Things are looking up! I had a BRILLIANT date tonight with a guy from the internet called Barry. I'm still stunned and spent the evening expecting that bloody hypnotist to appear, click his fingers and turn him into a moron.

We went for dinner, then cocktails, and then he kissed me at the station before I caught my last train home, texting me ten minutes later to ask when he could see me again. KEEN! He was shy, funny, has a sensible job and is pretty much the complete opposite of the guys I usually go for, but I'm feeling quite smitten.

Oliver called me as I walked home and I told him all about it. ‘Barry? How can you be passionate about someone called Barry?'

‘What the hell is your problem, Oliver? I have my first brilliant date in ages and all you can do is make snide comments.'

‘I'm only kidding, Phoebs. Christ, have we met? Every date I've ever had you've taken the mick out of! Pedro? That
Sandra girl, Ruth … and remember Tash in high school? What was it you used to call her?' He waited for a response.

‘Gash,' I replied quietly.

‘That's right, and when I went out with Joanna a couple of years ago you said I couldn't have sex with someone whose name rhymes with banana. This is what we do, Phoebe, so don't go getting all arsey on me now.'

‘OK, I'm sorry, but you never took any of your girlfriends even remotely seriously, so how the fuck was I supposed to? I like this guy – just leave the jokes until later, yeah?'

‘Fine. Whatever. I'm off anyway. Safe home.'

I feel stupid now. I don't know why his comment bothered me so much. I just wish he could have just been happier for me. I'm also bothered by the fact that I didn't feel like dragging Barry back home after the date, but my sensible side thinks taking things slow for once could be a good thing. My current liberal ‘free boobs for all' attitude is a far cry from the old Phoebe, who would never have considered shagging on a first date, but she's still in there somewhere, telling me that boys don't want to have relationships with women who give it up so quickly.

Will I be able to control my urges and take it slowly with someone? I might have to have my libido removed with tweezers like in that ‘Operation' game if there's any hope of me pulling this off.

Thursday September 1st

I have another date with Barry on Saturday. Now every time I say ‘Barry' I try to make it sound sexy just to prove Oliver wrong. I'm sure he's extremely sexual, but I intend to play it cool and not jump him and ride him like a stolen BMX.

Lucy and I discussed my plans for self-restraint over toasted sandwiches in the canteen at lunchtime. ‘I don't see the point in waiting,' remarked Lucy, pushing her pitiful side salad around on her plate. ‘What if you fall in love with this guy, sleep with him and it's a disaster? Do you want my tomato?'

I nodded and stabbed it with my fork. ‘Fuck, Lucy, I'm only planning on waiting a bit, not until my wedding night.'

‘Well, don't wait too long,' she said very seriously, ‘Your vagina will close up.'

‘Enough about me. What's happening with your love life? Tree surgeon still on the scene?'

‘Kyle? Yup. I'm seeing him again on Saturday.'

‘Kyle is a good name,' I said wistfully. ‘It's better than Barry.'

‘Most names are.' She smirked. ‘Kyle's just hot as hell. He says I'm a force of nature.'

‘Like a tsunami?'

‘Probably,' she laughed. ‘Listen, I once dated a Nigel. That's worse. I tried to just call him “N” but he wouldn't let me. Call him “Baz” or “B” or something if it bothers you that much.'

‘It didn't until Oliver made fun of it, but now it's stuck in my head.'

‘You two are like children! Stop listening to him and go and enjoy your date. If you really like him, it won't bother you one iota. What time is it?'

I looked at my phone. ‘Almost one. I suppose we'd better head back.' Lucy gulped down the last of her Diet Coke and grabbed her grey jacket from the back of her chair. ‘I expect details on your date tomorrow, even if it doesn't involve anything salacious.'

‘It won't. I'm going to be very well behaved. I can totally do this.'

‘What if he makes the first move? Are you going to push him away and tell him you want to wait?' She placed her hands on her chest and cried dramatically, ‘NO, BARRY. WE MUSTN'T. NOT HERE! NOT NOW!'

‘Maybe,' I replied, embarrassed that everyone was now staring at us. ‘I
could
make him wait.'

‘Liar!' she laughed, propping open the canteen door for me. ‘You'd be bouncing on him like a 1970s space hopper the second he made a move.'

She knows me so well. After work I got to play the exciting game of ‘where the fuck are my keys?' outside my flat in
the pissing rain. Once I'd angrily emptied the contents of my handbag on to the doorstep, I finally found them in the lining of my coat pocket.

One long, hot shower later, I was snuggled up on the sofa eating strawberries and laughing loudly at a Dylan Moran DVD Oliver had left at my flat ages ago. The man is a genius and has confirmed my affection for funny dark-haired Irish men. I should have put that in my dating profile.

Saturday September 3rd

For some reason I thought having a quick nap before getting ready for my date was a good idea. I lay down on the couch at three and woke up at six, groggy and with cushion imprints all over my face. We were due to meet at seven, which only left time for a quick shower but no leg shaving or hair washing. Still, I figured that by remaining hairy I'd eliminate any chance of sleeping with him, regardless of how much I drank.

Roughly seventeen seconds after leaving the house it started to rain, leaving me with no option but to hide in a bus shelter and call a cab from there. There was no way I was turning up to this date smelling like bus.

I got there five minutes late but he hadn't arrived either so I had time to run to the bathroom and check my hair for rain-induced frizzing. Luckily it had survived the downpour but my dress was damp. I attempted to dry it under the hand dryers while reapplying my lippy at the same time. One final check in the full-length mirror revealed
toilet roll clinging to the heel of my boot and lipstick on my teeth. I am perfection.

I returned to the bar, ordered a Jack and Coke and sat down at a table on my own like a soggy loser.

By seven thirty he still hadn't appeared and I was on my second Jack Daniels. I was almost dry and also starving. I called him but his mobile just rang out. I thought about buying some overpriced Pringles and then decided against it when I realized I'd look like a sad case, sitting eating crisps on my own in a bar on a Saturday night. Eight arrived and I knew I had been officially stood up. Two of the chairs at my table had been swiped by people who actually had friends and I felt like a complete idiot – no – a totally humiliated idiot. As I rang him one last time I felt a tap on my shoulder. ‘Been stood up then?' I swung round and there was Alex. My heart leapt into my mouth, then landed in my stomach with a massive thud.