Crazygirl Falls in Love (18 page)

I consider re-explaining the Dating Scale to her but she’s
already heard my various relationship theories, plus I have to get
back to work. Antonio is a 9.5. That’s why he thinks he’s good,
it’s because he is. Lucky for her Chloe is an 8. That bloody Dating
Scale. The only way to move up is with plastic surgery, money or a
personality paradigm shift.

***

“
Why why WHY-Y-Y… Delilah!”

Unlike Tom Jones’ love child, I sing loud and off-key. It
sounds like an operatic mouse being strangled, but I haven’t been
able to get the song out of my head since yesterday.

I’m hurriedly hunting my apartment for green things. Green
trousers, a green headband, green jewellery. Could I dye my pink
bunny ears green? Scratch that thought, no green food dye in the
house. The search continues. As I’m rifling through my drawers,
throwing out anything non-green into a big pile on the floor, I
hear my phone. It’s Mags.

“This is Penny speaking,” I chirp happily.

“Penny, I’m hiding in the toilets,” a small whisper replies,
“I think I need a phone save.”

“Really? But I trained him up so well? At least I thought I
did...” I sigh, my good mood gone like a fart in the wind, “talk to
me baby.”

“I can’t understand what Sam’s saying. He keeps going on about
his G-folk and his low-rider and swag and racks. And how I got J.
Do you know what J is?”

Mother of god.

“He’s just really nervous and trying to impress you. Give me a
minute.”

We hang up and I immediately call Stalker.

“Yo, Mack Daddy!”

“Sam, why are you talking ghetto to Mags?”

“Don’t sweat it, my brother from another mother.”

“Sam, I’m
female
.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s supposed to be funny. You know, like a
comedian.”

“No Sam,
not
funny, and you’re about to blow it with Mags. Go
back to your normal voice and ask her about her week,” then I add,
“you
do
know
you’re a skinny white guy, right?”

I hang up. Poor Mags. I hope Antonio is having more luck with
Chloe. At this rate we’ll all be single forever. Especially me.
Besides Chloe coming to the wedding with me tomorrow I’m a dateless
freak this weekend. As excited as I was that the Stranger messaged
yesterday he didn’t actually ask me out. In fact, he didn’t at all
ask me out. He said he was travelling for work and might not make
it to the party tonight. Then the messages had ended. I had
asked,

You’re travelling for work? That’s exciting, where are you
headed?

And my question had gone unanswered. Grrr! Why did he message
me in the first place? Just to check in? Just to say, ‘Hi, remember
that gut-wrenching experience I subjected you to on Wednesday? Just
wanted to remind you of it!’

He didn’t even ask what colour I’d be wearing tonight, and I
guess you yourselves are wondering why I’m currently obsessing over
green. Well you see, fed up with developing feelings for married
men who neglect to tell her they are taken (and take off their
wedding bands to boot), Emma decided to colour theme their
Re-Re-Housewarming this year. If you’re single, you wear green. If
you’re casually seeing someone, amber. If you’re in love and
extremely unavailable, you dress top to toe in red.

Maybe if the Stranger had asked me to go with him tonight I
would have worn green mixed with orange (despite how unsavoury I
find that particular colour combination) but since he didn’t I say
screw him. After my chat with Chloe earlier I had decided to
neglect Schmermesco just a little longer and had popped out to buy
as many green things as I could find, swinging past my favourite
burrito joint on the way (you know your life has taken a turn for
the tragic when you’re on first name basis with the guys at Taco
Express).

I returned to the office with an extensive collection of green
accessories (earrings and bangles and chunky necklaces), a green
top and new green Choos. Hopefully the Stranger comes tonight and
sees me in all my finery. It will be a declaration of being single,
being independent, and being happy. What exactly do I need him for
anyway? For love? Companionship? Children? Someone to help pay my
scary mortgage and field weekend visits from Jehovah’s Witnesses?
Basically the only thing a guy like him offers is the perk of
escaping this stupid social stigma of ‘insufferable singlehood’,
when in reality, if it wasn’t for society’s ugly and unwanted
pressures there’d be a lot fewer dismal ends to dismal
relationships, way fewer divorces, and a lot less lawyers like
myself making money out of said divorces to help pay off our scary
mortgages.

Wait a minute… social stigma bad, but leads to divorces, which
gives lawyers like me work, which helps pay off my mortgage, which
is good… Okay okay, I’ve lost myself in the circular logic of this
rant, but I am unwavering in my original point to all this. The
Stranger is a butt crack, and I am going to wear so much green
it’ll look like I’ve been pressing myself up against Shrek all
day.

Before I leave for Emma’s place I do a quick once over in the
mirror. My long blonde hair is pulled up into a French twist. Green
faux leather trousers hug my legs and my new top is a thick
strapped, swamp green number. Green bangles cover both arms. I am
in love with my new Tiki earrings and my emerald green suede and
satin ruffle heels. I look at the reflection with satisfaction. I'm
drowning in slime, and that’s great, ‘cos I am single, I am
fabulous and I will pick up another single, fabulous and equally
green clad man tonight. If I’m lucky he’ll be hot, want to be my
boyfriend, likes to wake up early on Saturday mornings to buy
pastries, and doesn’t judge me for my thirteen-cups-of-coffee-a day
habit.

I Whatsapp Mags and Chloe the same message as I’m waiting for
the train,

Hope your date is going well! If you’re keen swing by Emma’s
afterwards. 16 Clifford Lane, Belsize Park

***

“…
so I hand Emma my empty Coke bottle. I mean, what else was she
gonna do? It’s not like there are any toilets on those mountain
roads and when you gotta go, you gotta go, right?”

I give Dublin a wink and take a swig straight out of the
bottle of champagne I’m holding. I was drinking from a flute
earlier but they’re just so damn fiddly, and it got annoying
pouring glass after glass.

“How… quaint,” Dublin replies.

He’s looking at me with a mixture of aversion and amusement,
like he doesn’t quite know what to make of me. I get that look a
lot. Emma has overheard and shoots me a furious stare from the
group she’s speaking with. When I arrived to a house full of people
and a frantic Emma (who is always the perfect host), she asked me
to talk to Dublin because he doesn’t know anyone. I was reluctant –
he’s a snake as far as I’m concerned – but because of the whole
‘walking-out-on-Emma-at-the-fundraiser’ thing, I felt like I owed
her. Plus, it’s better than some of the jobs the other girls got,
like walking around with trays of food or being coat collector. Not
that Emma would let me walk around with trays of food again after
last year, when I ended up eating all the hors d’oeuvres
myself.

Thus far I’ve learnt that Dublin is a lawyer
too, but he does criminal. He looks like he’s in his mid-40s, a
tall, pale guy with dark brown hair and a beaky nose. Definitely
Irish, which I already knew because Emma coined the nickname after
their first hook up. If I'm to be objective about it, he's cute and
nice, if a little vanilla which I guess isn’t surprising because
he’s married. Marriage always makes people boring. Have you ever
heard of someone getting married then becoming
more
fun? Nope, because it’s one of
those laws of physics. Energy can neither be created nor destroyed,
and boring men stay at the same speed and direction of boringness
unless acted upon by an unbalanced force (i.e. awesome, fun,
spontaneous women who open their horizons). Without this unbalance
force in their life, a boring man stay on that trajectile until he
dies old and alone and having achieved nothing in his miserable,
boring life.

Wow… I am in a
really
dark mood since yesterday
(fucking Stranger). I feel like I’m boring y’all with my negativity
spiral. Must snap out of it. I take another swig of champagne and
look up at Dublin Wanker Man. He has pretty blue eyes, as so many
Irish lads and lassies do. Not as pretty as Blue’s though… But
before the thought has the chance to formulate properly I banish
it. Blue is
not
hot.

Maybe Emma’s been bitten by the same I-dig-blue-eyes bug? And
just in case you’re wondering, Dublin’s wearing an orange shirt.
Emma is wearing a green dress. Arianna is wearing a tight, hot red
number that shows off those incredible boobs and that delicate
waist. Their house is full of people that, to my delight, are
mostly in green. Few are wearing as much as me though. I am the
Green Machine.

The more bubbly I chug down the more I resent Emma for asking
me to keep Dublin company. Some of the Beautiful People are wearing
green tonight even though I've always thought they were taken. Like
dishy David.

What to say to get Dublin to go away?

“So, you’re married huh?” I take another swig of my
Moet.

His eyes widen a smidge but he has a good poker
face.

“Emma told you?”

“I’m her sister, Mack Daddy. I know all. So tell me, why
aren’t you wearing your wedding band tonight?”

I can tell Emma is eavesdropping again because I see her
shoulders rise with tension. Dublin takes a long sip of his
Heineken, but before replying we hear a squeal behind
us,

“Penny!”

It’s red hot Arianna making her way towards us, albeit very
wobbly-like. As she stumbles through the crowd she trips on the
edge of the rug and falls into Dublin’s arms. Her eyes look...
something. She puts her arms around us and pulls our faces down so
that we are huddling,

“Mi amors, my friends, I just gotta say just one thing,
just.”

She abruptly stops, instead staring down at the carpet,
apparently in deep concentration.

“What baby?” I smile.

“Wait a minute... I just had it,” she continues staring down
at the rug.

“I got it!” She yells, looking up, “isn’t it great being
hostess? It'll be so easy to get home at the end of the
night!”

“Damn straight,” I laugh.

Whatever she’s taken, I want some.

“So Penny, Emma tells me you’re a lawyer too?” Dublin takes
another sip of beer, but he’s interrupted by Emma who barges
between me and Arianna.

“Can I grab both you ladies?” Emma snaps.

“Yay!” Arianna replies.

“Thought you’d never ask,” I concur.

Emma takes an arm each and marches us into the kitchen. Once
there Arianna ignores Emma, stomps up to the fridge and takes out a
Crabbies.

“Don’t be shy chicken, grab me one too,” I
instruct.

And suddenly Arianna and I are giggling hysterically, I don’t
know why. I think the bubbles are warping my fragile little
mind.

“C’mon guys, I like him,” Emma scolds, “why are you trying to
embarrass me?”

With her arms crossed she suddenly looks very much like our
mother.

“You can’t be serious?” I say, “Em, he's married!”

“He's separated, it happened last week.”

“Oh gosh, I wonder why? Maybe it has something to do with a
young, hot twenty-something sister of mine suddenly giving him the
cookie?”

“That's not true! But do you really think I’m hot?”

“Yes, but that’s not the point. Does Rusty know about your
newfound feelings for another man? Even though let's not forget,
Rusty's married too.”

She’s feeling intimidated, I can tell. Growing up I was always
taller, bigger and spoke with more confidence. It didn't matter
whether I was right or wrong, I always won any argument. I’d either
yell over her, or punch her, or tackle her to the ground and tickle
her until she surrendered or threw up, whichever came
first.

Over the years Emma’s developed several defence techniques.
One is to run out of the room (very effective). The other is to
change the subject. Unsurprisingly, she does both now,

“You should look after Arianna. I’m going
back in there to damage control. I cannot
believe
you told him about the Coke
bottle. We made a pact.”

She turns up her nose and walks out.

“Wow, this kettle is so shiny,” I hear behind me. Arianna is
sitting on the kitchen counter, rocking their blender in her
arms.

As I pry it from her vice like grip we are joined by two of
the Beautiful People. I haven’t had a chance to get to know Juan or
dishy David very well. David is always talking to Juan, Juan is
always talking to Arianna. He’s had a massive crush on her since
forever, but she’s been with Stranger-Danger Bruno since forever,
so all Juan’s efforts have been in vain since forever. Speaking of
forever, David has had a girlfriend since forever. And yet he has
donned le green tonight. Most intriguing.