Rocket at 3pm?
Done!! x
Feeling proud of myself for taking the initiative and doing something with my day, I showered quickly and decided to walk the thirty minutes to the pub to work off some of yesterday’s calories. I’d forced myself into my favorite black skinny jeans and even though it had taken me half an episode of
Friends
to do them up, they were finally covering my cellulite and inspiring me to walk briskly. I flicked around on my iPod until I found my Fuck You, World playlist. It was a relic of my teen angst days but I needed to re-embrace life. And dancing to the Killers was the easiest way to do it.
Forty-five minutes later I arrived at the pub and collapsed, exhausted, into a booth. I had just ordered tap water when Emma walked in. She gave me a hug, enveloping me in flowery perfume, long feathery earrings and her jaggedly cut blond hair. Thank God I had worn my favorite jeans and black suede boots with gold studs, because otherwise I would have been seriously underdressed. Emma was wearing a chiffon cream shirt over a black bra, paired with jeans, heeled boots and a furry leopard-print coat.
“So, have you ordered yet?” she asked. “I’m craving a full fish, chips and mushy peas with a proper sticky toffee pudding.”
“That sounds so good. Except I ate a whole tub of Ben and Jerry’s last night.”
She looked at me sympathetically. “Ouch. Who is the bastard?”
“I wish it was a guy.” I sighed. “Long story short, she is—or maybe was—my best friend from school who just decided to tell me everything she’s secretly disliked about me for years, out of the blue
, after
having sex with a guy I fancied in my bathtub while I slept obliviously in the next room.”
“Whoa, sounds like you’ve had a rough few days . . . Who was the guy? Was he fit? Because if he was, then surely the bathtub sex is excusable.”
“I guess so, yes. I mean, neither of us knew him. We just saw him in a club, fancied him, and he chose her.”
“And then went back to yours and your friend got it on with him in your bathtub? Classy girl,” she said, shaking her head with an admiring smile. “Babe, you could blame her for this, but I think what’s happened here is you’ve made the classic mistake of having a best friend who gets all the guys. You need to go out there and get a new best friend—preferably an uglier one.”
I snorted with laughter but she grinned at me and carried on.
“Okay, maybe that is a bit drastic. But, you know what? There are so many girls like this out there. Pretty girls who get all the guys without lifting a finger and then rub it in their friends’ faces. Bitches.”
I laughed. “Okay, I feel like we’re not talking about my friend anymore. Do you have direct experience of this, Emma Matthews?”
Emma rolled her eyes. “Do I? At school I was second to Alex, because she was blonder than me and had bigger boobs. That’s all the Portsmouth guys cared about, by the way—some cultural context for you. You’d do really well there,” she added, making me blush as she looked down at the cleavage I’d tried to hide with a high-cut top. “But anyway, then I realized that all those years of rejection and being second choice had taught me loads. Ten years later, I am now oblivious to rejection and I can proposition a man without really caring what he says back.”
I looked at her with unadulterated awe. “So, you ask men out?”
“I’ve been known to do so. And for the few who say no, the dozens who have said yes and given me some of the best nights of my life have made it worthwhile.”
“I’m officially impressed,” I said. “The closest I’ve ever come to asking someone out was when I asked a guy called James to take my virginity when I was seventeen and he said no.”
She burst out laughing. “Oh wow, that kind of rejection is enough to put anyone off. Seventeen, huh? That’s kind of late to lose your virginity. We all lost ours before fifteen, but then
Done!! x
Feeling proud of myself for taking the initiative and doing something with my day, I showered quickly and decided to walk the thirty minutes to the pub to work off some of yesterday’s calories. I’d forced myself into my favorite black skinny jeans and even though it had taken me half an episode of
Friends
to do them up, they were finally covering my cellulite and inspiring me to walk briskly. I flicked around on my iPod until I found my Fuck You, World playlist. It was a relic of my teen angst days but I needed to re-embrace life. And dancing to the Killers was the easiest way to do it.
Forty-five minutes later I arrived at the pub and collapsed, exhausted, into a booth. I had just ordered tap water when Emma walked in. She gave me a hug, enveloping me in flowery perfume, long feathery earrings and her jaggedly cut blond hair. Thank God I had worn my favorite jeans and black suede boots with gold studs, because otherwise I would have been seriously underdressed. Emma was wearing a chiffon cream shirt over a black bra, paired with jeans, heeled boots and a furry leopard-print coat.
“So, have you ordered yet?” she asked. “I’m craving a full fish, chips and mushy peas with a proper sticky toffee pudding.”
“That sounds so good. Except I ate a whole tub of Ben and Jerry’s last night.”
She looked at me sympathetically. “Ouch. Who is the bastard?”
“I wish it was a guy.” I sighed. “Long story short, she is—or maybe was—my best friend from school who just decided to tell me everything she’s secretly disliked about me for years, out of the blue
, after
having sex with a guy I fancied in my bathtub while I slept obliviously in the next room.”
“Whoa, sounds like you’ve had a rough few days . . . Who was the guy? Was he fit? Because if he was, then surely the bathtub sex is excusable.”
“I guess so, yes. I mean, neither of us knew him. We just saw him in a club, fancied him, and he chose her.”
“And then went back to yours and your friend got it on with him in your bathtub? Classy girl,” she said, shaking her head with an admiring smile. “Babe, you could blame her for this, but I think what’s happened here is you’ve made the classic mistake of having a best friend who gets all the guys. You need to go out there and get a new best friend—preferably an uglier one.”
I snorted with laughter but she grinned at me and carried on.
“Okay, maybe that is a bit drastic. But, you know what? There are so many girls like this out there. Pretty girls who get all the guys without lifting a finger and then rub it in their friends’ faces. Bitches.”
I laughed. “Okay, I feel like we’re not talking about my friend anymore. Do you have direct experience of this, Emma Matthews?”
Emma rolled her eyes. “Do I? At school I was second to Alex, because she was blonder than me and had bigger boobs. That’s all the Portsmouth guys cared about, by the way—some cultural context for you. You’d do really well there,” she added, making me blush as she looked down at the cleavage I’d tried to hide with a high-cut top. “But anyway, then I realized that all those years of rejection and being second choice had taught me loads. Ten years later, I am now oblivious to rejection and I can proposition a man without really caring what he says back.”
I looked at her with unadulterated awe. “So, you ask men out?”
“I’ve been known to do so. And for the few who say no, the dozens who have said yes and given me some of the best nights of my life have made it worthwhile.”
“I’m officially impressed,” I said. “The closest I’ve ever come to asking someone out was when I asked a guy called James to take my virginity when I was seventeen and he said no.”
She burst out laughing. “Oh wow, that kind of rejection is enough to put anyone off. Seventeen, huh? That’s kind of late to lose your virginity. We all lost ours before fifteen, but then
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