He did kiss me. He wouldn’t have kissed me if he had a bad time. I let myself feel hope again.

CHAPTER 8

I get to work thirty minutes before my contracted start time, which is late according to everyone else in the office, sit down at my desk and ease myself into the day.

Keen not to put too much pressure on the date with Toby, but rejuvenated by the thought that not all dating is bad, I decide to reassign some of my online shopping time to the online man hunt. I choose to think of it as self-care and decide to be proud of myself for recognizing when I need some me-time, instead of being depressed that once again my contribution to the workplace is so minimal that spending two hours doing absolutely no work goes totally unnoticed.

So I swipe whilst pretending to catch up on emails, but despite my refreshed attitude it’s still a bleak world out there, and at the peak of my despair I sign up for speed dating next Tuesday evening, a decision I immediately regret.

Of course, I don’t forget Toby. I texted him this morning and eventually he replied, but, like an avocado, with dating there is a very short period of time when it’s just right, and I fear letting too much time lapse between date one and date two. Still, the one thing I have learnt from mistiming the ripeness of my avocados is that if you shove enough lime, salt and chilli in there you can make an excellent guacamole.

So this is essentially what I do with Toby, except I swap lime, salt and chilli for GIFs and puns. This time we have promoted our choice of date day to a Thursday, which works well as speed dating is on Tuesday, giving me a whole day and a half to ready myself to socialize again.

By the time I’ve finished swiping, a generous hour has passed and there is no point doing any work today. I’m leaving at lunch(ish) for a smear test and if I start anything now, I’ll have to redo it tomorrow morning.

Besides, I am distracted, and I can’t work when I’m distracted. I’m worried about all the potential mishaps that might happen during my smear test. What if I fart? I didn’t last time, but a fart during a smear test would be bad, probably worse than a fart in yoga.

I could just not show up, but I’ve left it for longer than I should have and I’ve intentionally worn a wrap dress instead of jeans to make getting undressed slightly more dignified than my last experience.

I’m busy getting up to speed with the ‘news’, also known as the sidebar of shame, when I hear a louder-than-office-acceptable greeting. ‘Bea! Good morning!’ I look up and see Penny striding towards my desk, smiling her room-lightening smile, leaving a trail of ogling eyes in her wake. Annoyingly, although her beauty is undeniable and I often feel like a lowly peasant in her company, she’s also one of the kindest people in the office and I can’t help but love her.