Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy (12 page)

As I sat down at the table, he took off his shades. His eyes were like pools. Pools of pale, pale water like a tropical sea . . .

DO NOT GET CARRIED AWAY

. . . only brown. I love him. The Dating Gods have smiled down on me.

TRY TO RETAIN SOME VESTIGE OF OBJECTIVITY

He REALLY understands the problems of single parenting. He said things like ‘How old are your kids?’

All through lunch felt like some dangerously aroused puppy who was going to start shagging his leg.

DO NOT JUMP TO CONCLUSIONS OR FANTASIZE

It’ll be so great having sex together on Sunday mornings, I was thinking, then breakfast together with all the kids – laughing, moving in together, selling both our places and getting a house they can all walk to school from. Just as I was thinking, ‘. . . then we could just have one car and not have an issue with the parking permits,’ he interrupted: ‘Do you want a coffee?’

I blinked at him, disorientated, teetering on the brink of saying, ‘Do you think we could manage with just the one car?’

ON THE FIRST DATE: LET HIM PAY

When the bill came, I made a terrible fuss about getting my credit card out and saying, ‘No, let me,’ and ‘Shall we split it?’

‘I’ll get it,’ he said, looking at me in a funny way – maybe he already knew he loved me too?

RESPOND TO WHAT IS ACTUALLY HAPPENING, NOT WHAT YOU WISH WAS HAPPENING

After lunch, I couldn’t bear it to end, and suggested we go for a walk on the Hill. It was so lovely. When we got to his car, I was hoping
against hope that he was going to kiss me again but he just gave me a quick peck on the cheek and said, ‘Take care.’

I panicked. ‘Do you think we should see each other again?’ I blurted out.

Maybe it was a bit forward but THINK it was completely fine.

IT WASN’T

‘Sure,’ he smirked. ‘I was just waiting for you to run off screaming.’ Then he smiled his crinkly car-advert smile and got into the car.

He’s so funny!

DO NOT ALLOW HIM TO DISRUPT YOUR LIFE OR EQUILIBRIUM

Oh, look, this is hopeless. Cannot just lie in bed MASTURBATING all day when have a screenplay to write and children to care for.

Thursday 13 September 2012

DO NOT OBSESS OR FANTASIZE WHEN DRIVING

8.30 a.m.
Hmmm. The thing is, when I said, ‘Do you think we should see each other again?’ he didn’t say, ‘No,’ he said, ‘Sure.’

So that means ‘Yes’, doesn’t it? But then why didn’t he say something about the next time when we said goodbye? Or why hasn’t he texted? GAAAH!

9.30 a.m.
Rounded a bend to find a taxi had just stopped in front of me, completely selfishly, with no rhyme or reason whatsoever. Was huge line of cars behind me.

Pulled round the taxi, looking crossly at taxi driver. Then realized, as looked ahead, was yet another car steaming towards me, driven by man who was pointing and mouthing at me, ‘You go back. You. Go. Back!’ as if was idiot or similar.

‘Honestly, men drivers!’ I thought, doing a V-sign at the man. (Apart from Leatherjacketman who am certain is very respectful.) ‘Oh, oh, look at us! We’re alpha males! We’re just going to bear down on defenceless women, bullying them into reversing.’

‘Mummy,’ said Billy. ‘The taxi has stopped so that that other car can get round us.’

Suddenly realized what Billy meant. The oncoming car was ALREADY THERE and the taxi driver, who is after all an experienced roadsman, was not stopping to let the already-oncoming car come past. And now I was like the alpha female SUV driver (except not in SUV) who had swerved round the experienced roadsman taxi driver and tried to drive the oncoming car backwards like an angry snow-plough brandishing an Oxbridge First in PPE (except Third in English from Bangor).

Tried to mouth ‘Sorreee!’ while reversing backwards, but the man glared at me with exactly the same disbelieving ‘what-is-the-world-coming-to?’ expression that I myself am so accustomed to adopting during the morning school run.

‘Well!’ I said brightly once we’d rounded the corner. ‘What lessons have we got today, Billy? PE?’

‘Mummy.’

I looked round at him. The same eyes. The same tone when I’m being not altogether at my best.

‘What?’ I said.

‘Are you just saying that because you feel silly?’

Friday 14 September 2012

DO NOT ALLOW HIM TO MAKE YOU GENERALLY DISTRACTED AND CRAZY

Just made contact with Aspirational Bohemian Neighbour and was so distracted that completely fucked it up. Was just walking back from car when saw her going into the house wearing a woollen hat
with several points with bobbles on the end, platform Doc Martens and a garment which looked like cross between a German officer’s coat from the Second World War and a crinoline with a frill at the bottom.

‘Hello,’ she suddenly said, ‘I’m Rebecca. Don’t you live across the road?’

‘Yes,’ I said delightedly, then launched into a nervous monologue: ‘Your children look like they might be the same age as mine? How old are they? What a nice hat! . . .’

It all went very well and ended with Rebecca saying, ‘Well, maybe knock on the door and come for a play date – doesn’t-the-very-word-make-you-want-to-shoot-yourself? – sometime.’

‘Hahaaha! It does. Yes,’ I said, miming embarrassingly, shooting my own head. ‘That would be cool. Byeee!’ Then crossed the road and went into the house thinking, ‘Yayy! We can be friends and maybe I could introduce her to Leatherjacketman and . . .’

‘Wait!’ Rebecca suddenly called.

I turned.

‘Isn’t that your daughter?’

Shit! Had completely forgotten I had Mabel with me. She was standing, bemused, outside Rebecca’s house, abandoned on the pavement.

NOTICE HOW HE MAKES YOU FEEL. SOMEWHERE AMIDST LIST – ‘HORNY’, ‘TAKING STOMACH MEDICINE DUE TO ANXIETY’ – THERE SHOULD BE THE WORD ‘HAPPY’

9.15 p.m.
Still no text. Whole Leatherjacketman scenario is making me horribly anxious with a sick feeling in my stomach.

THE NUMBER ONE KEY DATING RULE

Saturday 15 September 2012

DO NOT TEXT WHEN DRUNK

8.15 p.m.
YAYY! Telephone!

9 p.m.
‘Oh, hello, darling!’ – my mother – shit! Tailspinned, wondering if Leatherjacketman could still send a text while Mum was on the phone.

‘Bridget? Bridget? Are you still there? Have you decided about the cruise?’

‘Um, well, I think it might be a bit—’

‘I mean, most people from St Oswald’s will be with their grandchildren. It
is
a special time of year, when people
do
spend it with the grandchildren. Julie Enderbury and Michael are taking the whole family to Cape Verde.’

‘Well, what about Una’s grandchildren?’ I counterpointed.

‘It’s the in-laws’ turn.’

‘Right, right.’

In-laws. Admiral Darcy and Elaine are actually incredibly sweet with Billy and Mabel and manage to play it right by inviting them one at a time, to rather well-thought-out and short treat-like occasions. But I don’t think they could handle having us for Christmas. Even when Mark was alive he used to invite them to our big house in Holland Park, but he always got a cook to do the Christmas dinner, which he said was nothing to do with my cooking, but so that everyone could relax and enjoy being together. Oh, though. Why would they not ‘relax’, if I was cooking? Maybe it
was
to do with my cooking.

‘Bridget? Are you still there? I just don’t want you to be on your own,’ Mum said. ‘I mean, there’s still time to decide.’

‘Great! Then we can sort it out,’ I said. ‘Christmas is ages away.’

Now she’s gone off to her Aqua-Zumba. Wish Dad was here, to mitigate Mum and giggle with me about everything and hug me. Wish could get blind drunk on entire bottle of wine.

9.15 p.m.
Ooh, just heard Chloe come in from her night out in Camden. She’s staying on the sofa bed so she can get to t’ai chi early tomorrow.

9.30 p.m.
Think will have small glass of wine, now she is here, just to get spirits up.

ALERT! ALERT! DO NOT EVEN OPEN WINE WITHOUT WRAPPING PHONE UP IN NOTE SAYING ‘NO TEXTING’ AND PUTTING ON HIGH SHELF

9.45 p.m.
Much better now. Will put music on. Maybe Queen’s ‘Play the Game’. Gay perspective is always good, esp. in musical form. Mmmm. Leatherjacketman. Wish he would text me then we could see each other and have sensual . . .

10 p.m.
Maybe tiny nother glass of wine.

ALERT! ALERT!

10.05 p.m.
Love Queen.

10.20 p.m.
Mmm. Dancing . . .

‘This is your life!. . . Don’t play hard to get . . .’

10.20 p.m.
You see, s true. ‘Love runs . . . pumping through my veeeeiiiiins!’ Love Letherjackiema. You an’t go ound getting bogged in defensiveness. Love is loike a stream.

DO NOT USE WORDS OF POP SONGS TO GUIDE BEHAVIOUR, ESPECIALLY WHEN DRUNK

10.21 p.m.
Youse? Dfon’t polay hard to get. So why shunni text him . . .?

GAAAH! You see, this is the trouble with the modern world. If it was the days of letter-writing, I would never have even started to find a pen, a piece of paper, an envelope, a stamp, and Leatherjacketman’s home address and gone outside at 11.30 p.m. with two children asleep in the house to find a postbox. A text is gone at the brush of a fingertip, like a nuclear bomb or Exocet missile.

10.35 p.m.
Just pressssd d SEND. Issfineisn’ tit.

DO NOT TEXT WHEN DRUNK

CONTINUING DATING INCOMPETENCE

Sunday 16 September 2012

133lb (stuffing feelings).

‘No!’ said Talitha, sitting in my living room with Tom, me and Jude. ‘It is not “fine”.’

‘Why?’ I said, staring eerily at my text.

Tom read it out then snorted.

‘Well, number one, you’re clearly drunk,’ said Jude, looking up briefly from OkCupid.

‘Number two, it’s eleven thirty at night,’ said Tom. ‘Number three, you’ve already told him you’d like to see him again, so you’re sounding desperate.’

‘Number four, you used an exclamation mark,’ said Jude crisply.

‘And it’s emotionally inauthentic,’ said Tom. ‘It has the gushing, fraudulently breezy tone of a schoolgirl who’s persuaded the netball captain to sit next to her at lunch, and is trying to force her to be friends, whilst attempting to sound casual about it.’

‘And he didn’t reply,’ added Jude.

‘Have I ruined everything?’

‘Just leave it as the naivety of a newborn bunny amidst a pack of ravenous coyotes,’ said Tom.

Almost immediately the text pinged.

I looked at them with the expression of an anti-Iraq War demonstrator hearing that there were no weapons of mass destruction. Then I floated up onto a cloud – non-biochemical – of excitement.

‘“How’s your babysitting schedule?”’ I said, dancing around. ‘He’s so CONSIDERATE.’

‘He’s trying to get into your knickers,’ said Jude.

‘Don’t just stand there,’ said Tom excitedly. ‘Answer the text!’

I thought a bit, then texted:

came straight back.

‘He’s funny,’ said Tom. ‘And there’s just a hint of S&M. Which is nice.’

We all looked at each other happily. A triumph for one was a triumph for all.

‘Let’s open another bottle,’ said Jude, padding over to the fridge in her baggy onesie and big fluffy socks. She stopped to kiss me on the head on the way. ‘Well done, everyone, well done.’

ESCALATING DATING INCOMPETENCE

ON THE FIRST DATE – JUST GO ALONG WITH WHAT HE SUGGESTS

Wednesday 19 September 2012

134lb, pounds gained 1, dating rules broken 2.

9.15 p.m.
Chloe can’t do Saturday night, and instead of putting my energy into finding someone else, have obsessed and fantasized so much about the dinner, and what am going to wear, and the way he will look up at me when I appear in the navy silk dress, that have not organized anything else. Gaah! Text from Leatherjacketman!

9.17 p.m.
Argo
?
Argo
? A movie is not a PROPER DATE!
Argo
is a guy movie! The navy silk dress would be overdressed at a movie. And anyway Chloe can’t do Saturday and . . .

9.20 p.m.
Just sent:

DON’T MAKE IT ALL ABOUT THE BABYSITTER

9.21 p.m.
Me:

10 p.m.
Oh God, oh God. Leatherjacketman has not replied. Maybe he is out? With another woman?

11 p.m.
Leatherjacketman:

11.05 p.m.
Texted back then slumped. He wants to wait a whole week? How can he bear it?

Sunday 23 September 2012

9.15 p.m.
Agonizing. Leatherjacketman has ignored me all weekend. Has clearly gone off me. If was ever on me in first place.

10 p.m.
Am going to try to get things going again.

DON’T PREARRANGE FIRST-TIME SEX