Chapter 4

• Two hours later, I slam through the front door, stumbling slightly to remove my heels. Robert, my flatmate, is sitting on the couch, legs propped up on the coffee table, watching TV.
• 'Honey, I'm home!' I exclaim.
• 'Hey,' he says, looking at me and then back at the TV.
• I shuffle into the living room, shoes on, and take a seat on the other couch.
• 'I just had my first date, ever, in my entire life,' I joke. I close one eye to concentrate on the television. The episode with the monorail is from an old episode of The Simpsons. 'They use the M as an anchor to get to the doughnut, then there's an escalator to nowhere,' I explain.
• 'I appreciate the heads-up.' Robert carelessly runs his hands through his hair. It's long and dark, and it sticks up in the most unusual way I've ever seen. I'm curious if he uses a product, and if so, which one. 'Beer?'
• When I look down, I see a small bucket filled with ice and beer next to the couch. The refrigerator is precisely nine feet away.
• 'That is extremely laziness.'
• Robert smiles as he looks over again. 'Well, aren't you chatty this evening?'
• 'I'm a little drunk,' I admit, sliding down the couch and squeezing a beer bottle between my toes. Those last two martinis were delicious. After we finished the wine, Paulie switched to beer, and I figured, hell, why not?
• 'Good date?' he asks, his gaze fixed on the television.
• 'Yeah,' I say, shifting my weight to bring the bottle closer to my hand.
• Excellent eye-foot coordination. 'He appears to be very nice. A little reserved. We called it a night after dinner because he was getting up early for a conference call.'
• 'Oh, so it was a bad date,' Robert says firmly, hurling the bottle opener at me. I perfectly catch it and smile to myself. I am unable to participate in any sports. In fact, team sports make me nervous; what if I disappoint people? (The stress!) Nonetheless, I can always catch whatever is thrown at me. If only I could find a way to market this talent, I'd never have to analyze results again. I could work in a bar like Tom Cruise in Cocktail, throwing bottles all day. I concentrate on what Robert just said.
• 'Bad? 'No!' I exclaim. 'It was all right. I was a little nervous at first, but the conversation went smoothly. I learned a lot about him and he appears to be a nice guy.'
• 'Did you bombard him with questions?'
• 'Yes.'
• 'Did he question you at all?'
• Pause. 'No …'
• 'Did you have a lot of fun?'
• A longer pause. 'We had a few... light moments,' she says.
• 'Bad date,' he says once more. 'No kiss, correct?'
• That part, I must admit, perplexed me. When are you supposed to kiss? How do you know if they want to? I tried to make a meaningful eye contact with Paulie, but I couldn't get his attention, and then he opened the cab door and kind of stood behind it, so I just got in and waved goodbye.
• God. Now that I think about it, that's a disaster.
• 'How did you know?' I inquire.
• 'Lip gloss,' he says.
• 'Well, aren't you Sherlock Holmes?' I ask. I'm feeling a little deflated. 'I believe he'll call me anyway.'
• 'Right,' Robert says flatly.
• 'He could be my soulmate,' I joke.
• 'He isn't,' he clarifies. 'I swear.'
• 'Oh, poo on you,' I say, sipping my beer.
• 'Nice comeback,' he comments.
• My sister's fiancé, Luke, mentioned that Robert can be moody at times. He should know, because Robert is one of his closest friends. Robert and I haven't spoken in a long time. I'm probably out of practice at making new friends, and I sometimes think I wouldn't know small talk if it hit me in the face. But the alcohol is assisting tonight.
• I close one eye and turn to look at Robert. His legs are long enough for him to easily reach the coffee table. I try and fail to reach my toes out to it. Robert notices and reaches forward to pull it closer to my bated breath.
• 'Thanks.' Maybe I should express myself. 'It's not my fault that I don't know anything about dating, you know. I've never dated. 'I'd never gone on a proper date before tonight.'
• 'Mmm,' says Robert, which gives me more confidence.
• 'I mean, obviously, I went to the movies and stuff with Peter at first. But we'd known each other for so long that it felt natural... and we didn't even go on a first date. It was, after all, university.
• We got drunk at a party, snogged, and presto, instant boyfriendage. And now, seven years later, I've forgotten what it's like to be single. What am I supposed to do?'
• Robert remains silent.
• 'I was just being polite when I asked Paulie all those questions. What else could I possibly say? He's a complete stranger! 'Better than awkward silence,' I think, pausing to consider more reasons. 'And I was trying to be nice and interested in his life. It's courteous.'
• 'I'm sure he appreciated your good manners,' Robert says.
• This isn't the kind of cosy flatmate chat I used to have with Plum and Henry and everyone else at university. Maybe he's never lived with a woman before. Luke shared a flat with him until he met Sophie and kicked Robert out, at which point he purchased this property. It's a strange little three-story building with bare floorboards and very masculine furniture. There are two low wood tables and two leather couches. I called it 'butch chic' to Plum.
• He's obviously not interested in becoming best friends, I think. He most likely only needs a roommate to help pay the mortgage. He must be quite old. Luke is 30, but Robert appears to be older. He always appears to be in need of a shave.
• 'How old are you?' I inquire.
• 'Old enough to know not to talk to a man while watching The Simpsons,' he says.
• We watch an episode of The Simpsons until it ends, and then Robert starts changing the channel. We get past a Family Guy episode.
• 'Oohh! The Simpsons. 'Please,' I say. Robert flicks his wrist back.
• I'm starting to calm down.
• 'After martinis, beer is like bread,' I say during the commercials. 'It really absorbs the alcohol.'
• Robert remains silent.
• Family Guy begins again. My thoughts are racing. Was that a bad first date?
• What a lot of planning, excitement, outfit-planning, grooming, and anticipation for one hour and 45 minutes of shit conversation and good food.
• Maybe I haven't missed out on so much after all. Perhaps all of this dating and being single nonsense is a waste of time.
• That, however, cannot be correct. Plum enjoys being single, meeting men, going on dates, and all that nonsense. It's as if it's her sole focus in life. And my sister Sophie enjoyed being a "single gal about town," as my father puts it; it's how she met Luke, and now they're married.
• Isn't that the whole point of everything? To find someone with whom to love and laugh. A soulmate, if you will. And don't settle for someone you love like a brother but rarely laugh with. As in Peter. I left him because I sensed something was wrong, something was missing. But there was also something missing tonight. Oh, I have to pee.
• 'I'm just going to use the, uh, euphemism,' I explain.
• 'That's good to know,' he says.