Don’t play it cool. I typed: ‘You were beautiful. I’m sure you still are’
After all the sex with the ex*, and the sugary cappuccinos, and the avocado on sourdough, and the mini bar gin and tonic, and the crisp, square hotel pillows, all I got once back home was a text about the new emissions charge in London. It was so lovely to feel my soft, smooth skin. To touch me without covering my naked body. To kiss me.
Not only did it bring back my birthday but also the fact that I had never received an email from Kennington Tandoori. Not only that, but also missives between couples in news about a scandalous affair or tempestuous affairs. We all know. Her father was a chief executive officer. She was his lover.
Her: ‘You are the breeze in the desert for me. It is my water. My ocean. Meant to be only together tiger.’ Him: ‘OK.’ What is it with these monosyllabic men?
Russell replied to me just as I was feeling defeated. The movie star,** the first man I ever slept with.*** My spell – putting two pins in a red candle and focusing on his name – must have worked! I was with my flatmates in 1978 when he sent me a picture. Neil Pearson, who played Bridget Jones’s sleazy boss, is in a corner in a denim waistcoat. I was shocked, not just at what I was wearing – a cheesecloth shirt dress – but at my hair. It was fresh! My hair was shining. It was not the crisp, black carapace that it now is. It was a smile that made me happy. Because, you know.
I opened Russell’s email, I was so disappointed at the lack of passion or even communication from the person I’d just had sex with, I responded saucily: ‘But where are you in the photo?’
He replied, ‘Lots of ghastly photos of me, but I thought I’d spare you those.’ To which I responded, ‘No! You can send them! I can make them into posters!’
With a question mark, he replied. Men are so dense. I explained, ‘Because you were such a pinup.’
He came back with: ‘Well, it certainly didn’t seem that way to me.’ Then I’m afraid I lost it. You don’t have to play it cool. I typed: ‘You were beautiful. I’m sure you still are. X’
Yikes! I texted Nic: ‘I’ve been flirting with Russell! This worked. He doesn’t sound married.’
Nic: ‘Nothing on Wikipedia?’
Me: ‘No. I’ve deep searched.’
Nic: ‘Ask him.’
Me: ‘He hasn’t responded to the “beautiful” email yet. Perhaps you could take another picture. Me in swimsuit, airbrushed?’
I had persuaded Nic to make a photo of me in Bosnia smaller to hide any wrinkles before sending it to him with the caption, ‘Me now’, even though it was taken 11 years ago. Are men aware of this?
But the film star was silent and I wanted my New Year’s Eve to be a memorable one. A cottage is waiting for me at Thyme, Cotswolds. It’s a high-end retreat that takes dogs. The one with whom I had sex was my ex. ‘Have a look. Massages, lovely food.’
He replied that it looks expensive, and that he can’t contribute. He was welcome to stay with me, I told him. I added that I’m about to order my Christmas food from Riverford. I love Christmas.
‘I’m going to Hastings for Christmas. As we are not in a relationship, I didn’t think I’d be seeing you.’
I hadn’t invited him for Christmas. ‘That’s nice,’ I replied. ‘Who’s in Hastings?’
‘I can’t say, but it’s innocent.
It’s nothing to do with Julie.****’
‘Why can’t you say?’
‘They don’t want to be in the papers.’
Bam! Bam! A chill swept over me. It was a feeling of doom and upset. So my job pays for three nights at Thyme, with even more square pillows, but his friends, who I wouldn’t have written about anyway, are all secretive, as if I’m the devil and they are, what, interesting?
It is not my opinion. I’ve now blocked his number. I’m a Chippy idiot.
* See last week’s column
**He was in Cry Freedom with Kevin Kline. Did I mention that?
***We didn’t have sex
****His ex, who called me
‘The She Devil’
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