Dear Diary,
Im writing this after an evening that could only be described as a comedy of errors at the Odeon on Oxford Street. It started with Emily agreeing to go to the pictures with me after Id bought the tickets for £12.50 each. In my mind that meant we were, at least unofficially, a couple or at least that the vacancy in my lovelife had been filled.
The thing is, every girl has her own idea of what a cinema date should involve. Some are happy to sit in the back rows, hold my hand, and maybe share a cheeky kiss after the film. Others are more modest and expect the classic routine: watch the film, hold hands, and then be escorted home, perhaps with a polite goodnight at the doorstep.
Whatever the case, the fact that she accepted my invitation signalled, to anyone watching, that she was my girl. That, in turn, meant the seat beside her should have been empty unlike the scene that unfolded when a stranger swooped in, grabbed my arm, and shouted, James, whos that? Why are you holding her hand? Ive been losing sleep waiting for you!
Any sensible woman would have blushed and slipped away. The worst could have been a dramatic outburst like, Are you seeing two people at once? followed by a swift exit, heels clicking against the floor. Emily, however, fell into the first category. She didnt react at the moment because I, irritated, snapped at the newcomer, I told you to go, youve made your point. I then grabbed Emilys arm and hurried us to the next screen.
To my relief, the situation seemed settled. I told her, Shes gone, were fine. She seemed to accept that I wasnt juggling anyone else, though I wasnt entirely sure if that was true.
We decided to postpone any serious discussion until after the film, out of respect for the other patrons. I had paid for the tickets, after all, and didnt want to ruin anyones evening. Once the credits rolled, we stepped out onto the bright London street and walked towards the park that leads to Emilys flat in Islington. Thats when the subject resurfaced.
I hope you didnt think anything odd happened, I said apologetically. I dont collect crazy flings; my friends and family are decent. This was just a oneoff. Emily, whose previous relationship had ended because her boyfriends sister and mother disapproved, listened intently. She wanted to know the whole story.
So whats the deal? she asked. We were dating, werent we? Or is this just a friends with benefits thing where you sit on my lap and call me sweetheart in front of your mates?
It does sound logical, she admitted.
Imagine this, I continued, a girl invites you over to fix her computer, then tells you the brother took it to the country, and offers you a DVD to watch together. Youd think she just wants a quiet night, perhaps a cup of tea and a film, right?
Someone still uses DVDs? Emily laughed. But if a girl invites you under a flimsy pretext and then suggests staying over while the house is empty, you can guess what shes after.
She added details: Picture a sheer nightgown, lace stockings, heartshaped candles, a bottle of wine, and a film clearly rated 18+. I nodded, understanding exactly where she was heading.
Then Id just head to the chemist for condoms and get on with it, she said, halfjoking, halfserious.
I confessed that Id imagined the same scenario. I sat on the sofa, the mood was set, she leaned in, I pulled her close, started kissing, and before I could even get my hand under her nightgown, I got a slap across the face and a scream: What are you doing? Im not like that!
Emily scoffed, Id just walk out of that house.
I actually did, I replied. I left, shoes in hand, hearing her say it was over, and I walked straight home.
The next morning, she texted me as if nothing had happened, asking why Id gone silent. I ignored her. Why would I bother with drama? There was no reason to chase someone who was already moving on.
She eventually confessed that she had expected me to keep sending her gifts and wait for her royal decree. I told her I didnt need to chase anyone; modern life isnt about hunting for a partner, especially when the law doesnt tolerate coercion.
Emily and I agreed that a yes means yes, a no means nono need for anyone to play the victim or the aggressor. She decided to treat any former boyfriends as a chapter in a nightmare, not a future.
Later that week, a former classmate, Alison, cornered Emily on her way home from university. Alison, whod always been a bit of a meddler, said, You shouldnt have taken James away from him. Hes free, you know. Ive told him to stay away from you enough times.
Emily retorted, Ive already told him to leave me alone, Alison. I tried to defuse the situation by pretending my father, a police sergeant, was watching, but that only made things more awkward.
In the end, Alison, after seeing a photo of my dad in his uniform, muttered something obscene and walked away. She stopped contacting me from her second accounts, and I told Emily about it a week later. She didnt judge me for the tactic; she just smiled and said, Thats how it goes.
Emily and I both realised that the only thing that matters is clear communication and respecting each others boundaries. The whole episode taught me that trying to win someone over with gifts or persistence only leads to more mess.
So heres what I take away from all of this: if a person says no, treat it as a final answer. Dont waste time chasing shadows, and never let jealousy or pride dictate your actions. Simpler, honest intentions are far more rewarding than any elaborate scheme.
James.
