The Dating Detox by Gemma Burgess Page A

unattainable.’ I start to warm to my argument. ‘There is fashion. There is a dancing scene. There is some kind of klutzy friend, though sometimes the heroine is a klutz too. Then somewhere along the line, there is a fear that he’s messed up forever and has to prove himself to her to win her love.’
    Kate nods. ‘Yah. I picked the plot up. When I was six.’
    ‘In fact, forget Christmas. Chick flicks are like all my favourite things in life—burgers! Really high heels! Weekends in New York! Sexual encounters! Every single one is different, but has the same essential components and is—hopefully—equally pleasing!’
    We both laugh. OK, we cackle. The two-beer buzz is delightful.
    ‘Uh…ladies. May I trouble you for a lighter?’
    Deep voice. American. Male. Late 20s. I glance at Kate’s face, but she’s staring at Mr America behind me. I turn around, getting out my lighter at the same time.
    ‘Sure,’ I hand it over and he grins and lights his cigarette. Extremely cute, in a jock kind of way. Baggy pale blue jeans, Ralph Lauren Polo T-shirt, short floppy American-banker haircut. He must be fresh off the boat. American men wear very bad jeans till they realise every other man in London wears his jeans darker and tighter. Then they all buy Diesel jeans. (They never change their hair.)
    ‘Thanks,’ he leans back and exhales, a small smirk on his face. ‘So you like chick flicks as much as sex, seriously?’
    ‘It’s awfully rude to eavesdrop.’
    Kate’s phone rings. ‘It’s Tray—back in a sec…’
    Hmm, I have to wait for Kate and talk to Mr America. I could wait inside, if I was going to be really strict about this not dating men thing…But he’s so cute. Preppy, Ivy League and cute. Damn it, come on Sass, I chide myself. I should not be noticing this shit. I decide to finish my fag and put the Dating Sabbatical to the test. I run over my mantra in my head, more out of habit than need. After all, I’m not able to date him, so there’s no need to feel nervous. But he is kind of good looking.
    ‘Personally, I can get behind any John Hughes movie, so I’m with you on Sixteen Candles. But I’m not sure about Overboard. ’
    I look back at him like I’m surprised he’s still there. (Am I breaking Rule 3? Obvious flirting? Nah, this isn’t obvious yet.)
    ‘I heart Goldie Hawn. She’s brilliant.’
    ‘Sure, but give me Private Benjamin any day.’
    ‘Oh, I love that film! “Go check out the bathroom, it’s FABULOUS!”’
    Mr America laughs. ‘Yeah, I can see that you’d like that line.’
    I grin, and our eyes meet. He’s very confident. Sexual frisson, bonjour.
    ‘So…I loved your little speech there.’
    ‘The chick flick speech? I was just being silly…’
    ‘I like silly.’
    Why can American men say lines like that and get away with it? It must be the accent. This one’s particularly cocky. It’s terribly attractive. However, I never know what to say back when someone’s coming on to me so openly, so I just smile and take a drag of my cigarette.
    ‘Could I get your number…perhaps we could have dinner sometime?’
    I pause and smile. Shit. Time to put the Dating Sabbatical into action.
    ‘I know a lot of movies. I could quote ’em to you all night.’ He grins. Perfect teeth. Another attractive American trait.
    ‘I’d love to, but I’m not dating right now.’ (There, that was easy. Rule 1: no accepting dates, and Rule 5: talking about the Sabbatical is permitted in response to being asked out on a date.)
    ‘I don’t get it. You’ve got a boyfriend?’
    ‘No, I don’t. I’m just—I’m not seeing anyone at the moment.’
    ‘Did someone just break your heart?’
    I laugh. ‘No! I’ve just…I’m…I’m not dating right now. I’m taking a break from uh, seeing guys.’
    ‘You’re gay?’ His tone is disbelieving.
    ‘No.’
    ‘You’re just…not dating.’
    ‘Yup.’
    ‘For how long?’
    ‘Three months,’ I say airily. ‘Possibly, probably,