Chapter 17

Several hours later, as we’re returning from our trip to the Jewellery Quarter, I feel myself flagging, which triggers doubts about how I’ll manage a night out as well. Other than a couple of reasonably short Friday after-work drinks sessions with my team, this is the first time I’ve tried to be active through the day and also well into the evening. And it’s the first weekend since starting my new job that I’m not going to have a significant rest period. It plays on my mind: particularly how I’ll be on Monday after it all. This annoys me. What was it Emmanuel said? Just go have fun.

As we reach my apartment and let ourselves in, I feel my eyelids drooping.

‘Don’t know about you, but I’m quite beat,’ Sasha declares. ‘Shall we have a siesta?’

I’m unsure whether she’s picked up on how I’m feeling, whether she’s just playing it safe, or whether she really is tired herself. At this point I really don’t care. I need to lie down, before I fall down.

By 7:30 p.m., Sasha and I are glammed up and waiting to be served in the bar in which I bumped into Matt. It’s just as busy as last time, full of workers in corporate outfits, but thankfully I’m feeling much fresher after my ninety-minute not-so-power-nap.

‘What are you having?’ Sasha raises her voice over the music and the lively after-work chat in the bar.

‘Gin and Fevertree, please. And a glass of tap water.’

‘Sure thing. So… is he here?’

‘We’ve just got here. Give me a chance.’ I shake my head at her overzealousness. ‘Anyway, that’s a side task for this evening. If I bump into him then I’ll say hello. I’m not committing to anything else.’

‘But you agreed.’

‘I agreed to be more open-minded. And not rule out dating for the rest of my existence. That’s all.’

‘That’s as good as agreeing to go out with him.’

‘Not sure where you get that logic from.’ I gesture towards a woman in too-high heels tentatively leaving the bar, trying not to spill the four champagne cocktails on the tray she’s holding. ‘Quick, claim your space.’

Sasha expertly dodges into the eighteen-inch opening that’s appeared at the bar. As I stand behind her waiting for her to be served, my eyes roam around the room. I try to convince myself I’m just soaking up the atmosphere, but I’m kidding myself. Much as I’m resisting Sasha’s puppy-like excitement, she’s made me consider things from a different perspective and see that my application of my ‘new life’ rules has been inconsistent. It is totally unrealistic to think I can happily trot along through life in full celibacy. I was getting married before my body committed the ultimate betrayal and I still want that – with the right guy. I’m adamant that I’m going to live as normal a life as possible. So why did that vision not include a relationship, possibly even marriage?