Love Offline Read online

  ‘It is, actually. And I’m shitting myself!’ she laughed.

  ‘Glad I’m not the only one!’

  ‘I’ve had to stop myself from leaving at least ten times in the last twenty minutes because I’m so nervous.’ She moved into a gap nearer to the bar. ‘If I hadn’t already paid the babysitter, I’d be on the next bus home!’

  Hallelujah! Someone who understands my pain…

  ‘I’ve been hiding in the loos for the past twenty minutes, so I know how you feel! How many kids do you have, Kat?’ I asked, adding her name to the end of my question in the hope that would stop it evaporating from my memory.

  ‘Three. My eldest daughter is eighteen and away at uni, so now I’ve got just the two at home. A nine-year-old boy and eleven-year-old girl.’

  ‘Oh wow—you don’t look old enough to have a daughter who’s eighteen.’

  ‘Thanks!’ Kat blushed. ‘I started young, which is my diplomatic way of saying that I believed the rubbish my first boyfriend fed me about not being able to get pregnant the first time you have sex. Gosh, I was so naïve! I also believed that he loved me, but that’s a whole different story. Suffice to say, nine months later, just before my twentieth birthday, I gave birth to Becky.’

  ‘I’m sure you wouldn’t be without her now,’ I said.

  ‘Yeah, she’s alright. Most of the time. When she’s not asking me to lend her money. I can’t believe she’s all grown up already. It’s gone by so quickly. Anyway.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘What am I doing nattering on about my kids? This is supposed to be my night off. Which, these days, is about as rare as finding a decent man, so I better enjoy it whilst I can.’

  ‘I know what you mean! I’ve recently come out of a relationship and it’s hard to find someone with that spark—you know, that I have a connection with.’

  That was true, but if I was honest, I couldn’t deny the fact that maybe if I actually went out on more dates, I’d have a much better chance…

  ‘Tell me about it.’ She nodded. ‘My friends keep saying not to give up hope, because they insist that there are still good men out there. But frankly, I reckon they’re already taken.’

  ‘Exactly! My best friend, who is married to one of the good ones, says the same thing and is convinced that I just need to get off the dating apps and put myself out there, so here I am.’

  ‘Oh, don’t even go there with the apps.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I’m so sick of them. They were driving me mental, so I thought it was time for a different approach. I’ve never been to one of these singles dos before, but I’m up for trying anything once—well. Maybe not anything!’ she cackled.

  ‘What can I get you?’ asked the barman.

  ‘Finally!’ she replied. ‘I thought you were going to leave us to die of thirst! Vodka and orange, please. Actually, let’s liven things up a bit. It’s still two for one on cocktails, so I fancy a Sex on the Beach. What do you reckon, Emily? Would you like one?’

  ‘Well,’ I said, scanning my memory to think what was in it, ‘I’ve never tried that cocktail, so yeah, why not. Thanks!’

  ‘You’ve never had Sex on the Beach before? You haven’t lived! It’s my favourite! And it’s much better than the real thing. No sand up your bum, for a start!’ she cackled.

  I never made it to the ladies’ table. After we got our drinks, Kat and I found a corner and spent ages chatting about our experiences of dating—the initial rush of getting a match on the apps, the awkward texting, the challenges of moving from messaging to meeting in real life. Full disclosure: I didn’t confess that in fact I was my own worst enemy and it was me that avoided meeting. She didn’t need to know that just yet…

  Whilst I thought it was hard being single, clearly being a single mum was much harder. Especially if, like Kat, you didn’t have a big family network around you. Whenever she wanted to go out on a date, she had to rely on finding a good babysitter who wouldn’t cost her a fortune, or beg her sister to look after her kids.

  And whenever she did meet a man she liked and wanted to take things further, everything would have to be planned carefully. When she could meet him depended on overnight childcare, which obviously involved footing an even bigger babysitter bill, going to his place or a hotel (yet more of an expense as she’d insist on going Dutch). Plus, the guy could never just casually pop round to hers on a whim to ‘Netflix and chill’, as she didn’t want to risk introducing him to her kids until she could be certain (well, as much as you can be), that they were a serious, long-term prospect.

  It certainly put things into perspective. There was Kat, who wanted to go on dates but struggled to due to childcare and finances. And then there was me, who had opportunities to go on multiple dates but wasted them because of my shyness and fear of rejection. I seriously needed to work on that. At least being here, which initially I’d found terrifying, was a step in the right direction.

  As Kat popped to the ladies’, I scanned the room. It was filling up fast. Like Chloe had predicted, there was a real cross section of people. It was roughly an even gender split. Perhaps even sixty per cent men and forty per cent women. The age range spanned from late twenties up to mid-sixties. Most had made an effort to dress up, ladies in heels and dresses and men in trousers and shirts. The majority of people were smiling and chatting either one-on-one or in small groups.

  There was a scattering of people standing alone nervously clutching a drink, scanning their shoes or glancing at their phones. If I hadn’t bumped into Kat at the bar, that would have probably been me too.

  In fact, now would be a good time to post the photo Chloe took of me. I’d edited it in the taxi, so it should be ready to go. It was Eric who’d introduced me to the photo editing apps. I remembered tagging him in a photo of us together and him telling me to delete it and retouch it first before putting it up again. He’d downloaded an app to my phone, then gone through every part of my face and body in the photo, showing me how I could make myself look better. Since then, I’d never posted anything without tweaking it in some way first.

  As I wrote the caption and my thumb hovered over the post button, my heart started beating faster. I always got anxious before I posted an image of myself, worrying about whether it would get any likes or if I looked terrible. And once it was out in the wild, I’d question whether I should delete the post before anyone saw it. Yeah. I wasn’t sure if this photo was good enough. Best to save it to drafts and look over it again later before posting. Just to double-check it was okay…

  I put my phone back in my bag and exhaled. Right now, I was feeling alright. Dare I say it, even starting to have a good time? Although I was now by myself in a corner beside the end of the bar, waiting for Kat to return, I no longer wanted to escape and run home. I was going to see this through. I wanted to make the most of it.

  I glanced around the room again, remembering Chloe’s advice to smile as I did so that I would look ‘open’ and approachable. Downstairs was now full to the brim. There were easily the two hundred and fifty people she’d said were on the guest list. Maybe even more. Surely out of the, say, one hundred and fifty men that were here, there must be someone that I’d like? Surely.

  There were a couple of guys that caught my eye. One in particular who was wearing a smart burgundy suit (he clearly also followed Chloe’s advice to wear colour to stand out from the crowd). Tall, dark, very handsome, and I got the feeling that he knew it too. Every time I looked over, which was probably more often that I should have, he was surrounded by a flock of women. They were obviously more confident than me, as I wouldn’t have had the courage to approach him. Certainly not on my first proper solo rodeo. And would I really want to anyway? He had heartbreaker written all over him.

  Just as Kat returned from the toilet, the Happy Solos hosts brought a few men over to meet us.

  There was Ray, a bald accountant I guessed was in his early fifties, Will, who was maybe mid- to late thirties, who had scruffy brown hair and was a PE teacher, and Rob, a forty-something train dr
iver who had a shaved head. No physical attraction, at least not from my side, but now that I had Kat with me, I was feeling a bit more relaxed about chatting to other people and listening to their experiences.

  As it turned out, men seemed to face the same dating challenges. They also had a love/hate relationship with apps and said they too struggled to find someone they clicked with.

  ‘Women have unrealistic expectations,’ moaned Will.

  ‘How so?’ asked Kat.

  ‘Well,’ he huffed, ‘they have four kids and more baggage than an airport terminal, and yet want a guy who looks like Brad Pitt and earns at least a hundred grand a year to come and look after them all. And if that’s not bad enough, as well as having terrible personalities and the IQ of a peanut, they don’t even look like Angelina Jolie or Jennifer Aniston. It’s a joke!’

  Whoa. He certainly wasn’t shy about telling us what he thought.

  ‘Oh, come on!’ Kat protested. ‘That’s a massive exaggeration!’

  ‘Yeah, come on, mate,’ said Rob. ‘We’ve all had our fair share of dodgy encounters, but not all women are like that.’

  ‘I have three kids and I’m not looking for an oil painting or a millionaire. Just a decent, honest guy to share my life with who will also love and respect me and my children. That’s not too much to ask, is it?’

  ‘No, Kat,’ said Rob. ‘I don’t think it is.’

  ‘You think I’m exaggerating!’ protested Will. ‘But I’ve met some very strange women on these apps. Half of them are already married and looking for a bit on the side. They have no morals. And I bet the ones here tonight are exactly the same. Women are a complete and utter nightmare!’

  ‘Now hold on!’ Kat scowled. ‘You can’t go around making sweeping statements like that. I mean, yeah, I might be guilty of saying that guys on these apps are rubbish, or saying bad things from time to time when I’m feeling frustrated. But deep down, I hope that’s not the case for every man. Whereas you’ve pretty much said that all women are categorically money-grabbing, dumb, look like the back end of a bus, or are cheats, which is out of order!’

  Well, this is kind of awkward, I said to myself, taking a large gulp of my second cocktail and trying to avoid being drawn into the conversation. It was embarrassing to admit it, but in a way, how Will felt about women was a little bit how I felt about men.

  Naturally, I disagreed with the specifics—especially the money-grabbing nonsense, the baggage bits and the outrageous comments about our IQ. Definitely uncalled for. But just as Will thought most women were the same, if I was being completely honest, right now, I did think that men were more likely to be unfaithful, and I did believe that they had unrealistic expectations.

  Eric had always wanted me to be slimmer and prettier, have better hair, and be funnier and more outgoing. I’d always felt like I was falling short. And because I couldn’t meet his high expectations, he’d cheated on me with a woman who could.

  I knew it was completely wrong of me to tar every man with the same brush. It was sexist, and it wasn’t something I was proud of. But after such bad experiences, and having my heart ripped apart, it was really, really hard not to…

  ‘I just think,’ said Kat, ‘that we have to hope any strange men or women we encounter on these apps, or even in real life, are the exception rather than the rule and that the nice, normal people like us are all here tonight. Otherwise, what was the point of us coming to the party in the first place?’

  She had a point. And I wanted to believe her. Truly. But I still wasn’t convinced that a decent, faithful man really existed. I supposed, like Kat said, we had to try. Be optimistic. Easier said than done, though.

  ‘I reckon you’re right, Kat. You and Emily certainly seem like two lovely ladies.’ Rob smiled.

  ‘Thank you.’ Kat blushed.

  ‘Whatever,’ snarled Will. ‘I’m off to the bar.’

  ‘See ya!’ Kat sneered as he walked away. ‘And good riddance. Yes!’ she screamed as the DJ switched to a Rihanna classic. Whilst he’d kept the music low for the first couple of hours to give people a chance to talk, now that it was almost 9 p.m., he started to crank up the volume. I tapped my toes in time to the beat. ‘Tune! Come on, Emily!’ Kat took my hand and pulled me towards the dance floor. ‘Time to put on our dancing shoes!’

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d shaken a leg in public, or in fact done any form of exercise other than walking to and from Cuppa every morning. Sure, I danced around in the shower or at my desk every day when I was playing my latest playlists, but not proper dancing like this. No one ever danced at the parties Eric used to go to. They just took selfies. Actually, maybe now was the time to take some more snaps for social media. Kat could take one of me holding my cocktail. She was right. Sex on the Beach was divine. Or I could get a pic dancing in the crowd like I was having a good time?

  Just as I started reaching in my bag to get my phone, Kat grabbed my hand again and spun me around. Once. Twice. Then a third time.

  Oh well. I’d have to take some photos later. Right now, I was dancing and it felt so good. I felt free. Alive. I whooped every time a song came on that reminded me of my carefree college days.

  I’ve always loved music, so I used to go out fairly often during my late teens and early twenties. I wasn’t fussy about the genre. Pop, soul, rock, dance—as long as it had a good beat or a nice melody, I would listen to it.

  It was funny. Even though I was reserved in most social settings, I enjoyed concerts, particularly intimate gigs. And if I was with a small group of people I knew and who liked to dance, I didn’t mind going to little clubs either. When I was eighteen and had just passed my driving test, me and a couple of friends would head into town on a Thursday night to a small place that would play decent tunes. I used to just lose myself in the beat. I instantly became more carefree. I was a bit more outgoing in that respect. I smiled as I remembered the fun we’d had. Those were the days…

  Bloody hell. Those were the days? I sounded like a ninety-year-old. I definitely had to get out more.

  Before I knew it, it was almost half past eleven.

  ‘Emily,’ Kat shouted over the music, ‘I’m going to have to love you and leave you.’

  ‘Oh no!’ I said.

  ‘I’ve got a Cinderella curfew as the babysitter is only paid up until midnight.’

  ‘Okay. I might not be that far behind you, actually. I’ll probably head home soon too.’

  ‘No!’ she shouted again. ‘You should stay! Dance the night away. Why go home so soon? You’re having fun, aren’t you? Enjoy yourself. And…you never know who you might meet!’ She winked.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know about that. I am enjoying the music, though, so yeah, you’re right. No point rushing back to an empty flat. I’ll see how I get on. I have to admit, I’ve had a great time.’

  ‘Me too!’ said Kat, shaking her shoulders. ‘Listen, you’ve got my number. Let’s keep in touch. I don’t get to go out that often, but you know, maybe we can meet up once a month or something. Go for a drink. Vent about whatever we need to get off our chests and exchange stories about life and men.’

  ‘Of course! I’d really love that.’

  ‘Great!’ she said, reaching over and giving me a hug.

  ‘Get home safely.’ I squeezed her tight. ‘And I’ll message you tomorrow. Fill you in any gossip that happens after you’ve left.’

  ‘Brilliant! Right,’ she said, glancing down at her phone to check the time. ‘There’s a bus in four minutes, so I better run. See you soon!’

  Awww. Kat seemed lovely. It was definitely worth coming tonight just to meet her. Right at that moment I decided that I was absolutely going to stay and enjoy myself.

  After dancing to a few more songs, I headed to the loo. Just as I was leaving the ladies’ toilets and went to push the swing door in the corridor forward to go back downstairs, it flung backwards towards me.

  ‘Whoa! Careful!’ I said as the door narrowly missed hitting me in the
face.

  ‘Oh God, I’m so sorry!’ said the perpetrator. As I looked up, I saw Mr Burgundy Suit in front of me. My eyes widened. ‘I wasn’t expecting the door to be so light. Pushed it a bit too hard and nearly knocked you out. Are you okay?’

  My heart jumped. Play it cool, Em.

  ‘Um, yes. Fine, thanks.’ I tried to compose myself. ‘That was close, though.’

  ‘I know, sorry.’ He gently took my hand and rested his on top. ‘Let me make it up to you. Let me buy you a drink. I’d love to have a dance too, if I’m not pushing my luck and you could find it in your heart to forgive me?’ He tilted his head and gave me his doe eyes. What a charmer.

  ‘Sure, why not,’ I said as casually as I could muster whilst doing the running man in my head. I know I said before that he had heartbreaker written all over him, but he was the hottest guy at the party. How could I resist?

  ‘Great!’ he said, now taking both of my hands in his for a few seconds and then gently releasing them. ‘I’ll meet you on the dance floor in five!’ He glided into the gents.

  There you go, Chloe. How was that for stepping out of my comfort zone? I decided to put my preconceptions about men to one side. Like Kat had said earlier, not all men were bad. Rather than judging him because of my experiences with Eric, I just had to try and keep an open mind. Believe.

  Maybe Chloe was right. Perhaps it really was easier to find a decent guy in real life. After all, tonight hadn’t been as scary as I’d imagined, and now a man who I was really attracted to also seemed like he was into me. It was like a meet-cute from a romcom. Boy bumps into girl outside the ladies’, their eyes meet for the first time and he asks her to dance. Who knows where this could lead? Exciting!

  As I went back downstairs, Rob and Will spotted me. We started chatting. Well, I spoke to Rob, rather than Will. I was still feeling embarrassed that we both shared negative thoughts about the opposite sex. Anyway, maybe my chance meeting with Mr Burgundy Suit would help to change my mind.

  Rob was happy to have secured the number of a ‘lovely lady’ called Gail, whereas Will was bitching about the music being too loud, there being too many men and people breathing (he didn’t really complain about people breathing, but he was so negative, it was the kind of thing that could pop out of his mouth at any moment). Gosh. I really needed to avoid ending up as bitter as him.