Chapter Seventeen

Relationship Rehab – week 3

Wine Not? should be renamed ‘Whine Not!’ given the whining that goes on when sampling 6 new drinks in 3 hours. The advert insisted that you need not be an oenophile (a word bandied about between gulps - a lover or connoisseur of wine) yet the wine buffs were there regardless. The opportunity to meet 20 guys, mingling in groups as we sipped on new wines was lost on me as I had to listen to these wannabe connoisseurs slurp and comment on the ‘fruitiness’ or ‘dryness’… It was worsened by the prospects of being ‘ticked’ for post event emails – if a guy ticked your name, the organisers pass on your email address. I’m not sure whether I’m dreading looking at my inbox for the fear of Giles or Warren’s name popping up – or for the humiliation that none of these whiners liked me anyway! It’s a relationship roulette out there and the closer you stand to the furnace of dating, the hotter the competition! My closing thoughts on wine dating are that it’s all rather pointless. I doubt that the whine notters appreciated my simple, ‘Like it? Drink it! Don’t like it? Leave it!’ approach, but what is there to say? We can’t change the drinks! We’re not being flown out to the vineyards to give our respected opinions so that they can change the recipes! As far as I’m concerned, if you don’t like the taste it leaves in your mouth, move on. Kind of like the way that you do with men…”

Sophie xxx

*

I’ve spent huge chunks of the last 48 hours staring at horrendous photographs of me in newspapers and magazines and it’s been surreal. I have resorted to practising getting in and out of cars with tight skirts on; with the help of my kitchen stool and an upturned hula hoop. I know that the stool is somewhat higher than the front seat of my car, and the hula hoop isn’t the same size as an open car door - but I’ve nearly perfected the knock-kneed look that it requires. Hopefully I won’t need to use this newly developed skill; there’s been a little backlash – a slight quiver of furore over who I actually am, but I haven’t seen any more photographers, thankfully. I returned the H&M dress to Tracy, in fashion, who was thrilled that some of the newspapers had commented on the fabulous dress, and I was devastated when she showed me the photographs in Heat magazine today –a yellow circle highlighting a close up of my bikini area! Choosing to stay single? I won’t have any choice now – what with my inner thighs as centrefold! Perhaps things will die down over the weekend. I’m relieved it’s Saturday morning - I need a couple of days to relax and spend some time with Tam. I’m desperate to get dressed up nice and to go for a relaxing meal - somewhere with no agenda of meeting guys or researching the singleton lifestyle – I just want some ‘me’ time.

*

Tamsin had been furious with Pete. He’d promised to take her out for dinner last night, arranging to collect her at 8pm and he hadn’t arrived until after eleven. He’d stood on her doorstep, clutching a huge bouquet of flowers and had cupped her face in his hands as he kissed her hard and deeply. She’d tried to resist, but found him completely irresistible, then hated herself for not being more defensive. He’d lifted the discarded flowers from her welcome mat, handing them back to her after their kiss and she’d marched into the kitchen to look for a vase.

“So why couldn’t you have called me? Or to have text me even?”

Pete had leaned in the doorway, looking great in his jeans and black t-shirt. She loved the bulge of his forearm and the dark hair that swept across it. She tried to remain angry,

“I’m sick of being second best Pete. It’s just not good enough fobbing me off with flowers. It’s not fair on me.”

She’d been aware of him watching her fuss with the flowers, irritated at a lily on a particularly long stem that continued to flop over the side drunkenly. Her blonde hair, blunt cut at the shoulders, fell over her eyes and she’d suspected that he was concealing a laugh as she tucked it tightly behind her ear, for it only to fop forward after a few seconds. He’d taken her breath away, grabbing her by the shoulders and turning her to face him. He had kissed her again, pushing her back until the backs of her legs met with the cupboard door. And then he’d pulled at her skirt, tugging it up, and over her thighs.

*

Tamsin woke, curled on her side with Pete tight to her back. They’d been spooning for hours now, his deep breathing relaxing her into a contented slumber. She loved these early hours – this 3am-5am slot where the night slowly crept towards day and the air was still outside. With no traffic sounds it was like a vacuum of time that she didn’t want to leave. She knew the day was inevitable; knew he had to leave, which only made her want to freeze frame the moment and hang onto him for a little longer.

She needed to talk to Sophie about this and was pleased that they were meeting tonight with no agenda – no venue for dating scenes or research – just the two of them and a quaint Italian restaurant. It was time to tell but she still wasn’t entirely sure how Sophie would react. Tamsin wondered whether, after seeing the dire dating scene for herself, she might now understand more why things had to be this way for her.

*

I love Saturday mornings and to be woken by fabulous stripes of sunshine as they pour through the open slats in my window blind completely lifted my mood, washing away my anxieties about the photographs. I lie in bed for ages this morning, letting the sunlight creep up and along my white duvet as the day came to life. It’s a luxury to just relax and not think; letting random thoughts float in and out of my mind and I let them, feeling a huge wash of contentment, as though I am floating. A short burst in the shower invigorates me, just as the blurb on the container of shower gel promises, and I feel great. Drying my hair into loose curls I grab my car keys and bag, sliding my shades onto my eyes, and head for the supermarket.

I arrive home two hours later to find Rob unloading paint and dust sheets from the boot of his car. He’s in my parking space, so I pull up beside his car and open my window,

“Hey! You coming to see me?”

“Yeah,” he smiles, “That OK? Thought I’d sort that ceiling for you.”

“That’s fine.” I point to the back seat of my car for some bizarre reason, “I’ve just got to find somewhere to park, and then I can bring in this shopping and make us some lunch, if you fancy it.”

He nods as I turn to pull away. Within seconds he’s standing beside my window,

“So where are you going to park? I’ve nicked your place, haven’t I?”

“Yep. No worries, I’ll find somewhere, oh, about a mile up the road.”

“No, let me move my car,” he grapples in his overalls pocket for keys.

“No! Really! I’m only joking. I’ll find somewhere up there.”

“Well then,” he opens the back door of my car and reaches in for the shopping bags, “at least let me take this lot in for you. You might has well have walked from Tesco if you knew you’d be parking that far away.”

I’m impressed. I watch him in my side mirror as he rustles the bags behind me.

“Do you always wear overalls?”

He laughed, “Yeah, feels like it.” He carries all of the bags at once, his two hands clutching about 4 bags each. He is walking towards my house when he looks back and smiles at me, “And sometimes I even wear clothes underneath them…”

I’m blushing.

Again.

Come for a chat in Sappho's Garden

Last week was great - we had a few laughs in The Blarney Stone and really got to know each other. Some of you were painfully honest about the break ups of relationships and others made us all laugh with their chat up lines and hilarious disastrous dates!

Wednesday 9pm (UK time) is scheduled for our next meet up - hope you can all make it again - and it would be great to see some new faces too.

Let's meet in Sappho's Garden ( Second Life co-ordinates - 51,52,30). It's a truly beautiful garden, full of butterflies and great places to relax. And if you're not sure how to get there - send a friend request to me (SophieRegan Jewell) and I'll teleport you!

Looking forward to seeing you there.

Here's a photo of Sappho's Garden to get you in the mood.

And world times are
9pm (UK time) -
1pm WCoast USA/Canada,
4pm New York,
6pm Tokyo,
7pm Sydney,
9pm Auckland NZ

Chapter Sixteen

I was traumatised last night, what with the paparazzi outside my house freaking me out, setting me askew for the wine dating event. I couldn’t relax after that and if I’d have thought that Delaney wouldn’t be chasing me up on it, I wouldn’t have gone. I wish really that I hadn’t. It was ‘interesting’ but I’ve been restless all night, chasing sleep around the bed and worrying what I’m going to write today for Relationship Rehab. I sit cross legged in my armchair, spooning Crunchy Nut Cornflakes into my mouth as I stare at the floor, my mind working overtime. My hair is still curly from last night and I really should wash it, but I’m tired and decide that I’ll sweep it back into a high ponytail instead. I love the crashing in my head as I bite down onto the cereal, pondering what to write in my piece today. If I say that I didn’t like ‘Wine Not?’ does that make me look unreasonable? As if I’m not giving anything a chance, or maybe that I am that dried up spinster that Jennifer said I’d be? I’m not sure which angle to come in from on this week’s column and it doesn’t help that I’m feeling low. I have a swollen ache on my chin, which I know is the beginnings of my period spot. And what great timing that will be – I’ll have a perfect bloated tum for my appearance on television! I get up and head for the kitchen but can’t help but feel a little creeped as I pass the window. I have a disturbing feeling that there are still some photographers out there, as if they’re spying on me, and I know it’s ridiculous. You don’t have to tell me that I’m being paranoid, but I was so shocked that they’d considered me tabloid fodder simply because of my column and that I dated Ben, I’m now wondering what else they’re going to do. That was one of the reasons too, that I couldn’t sleep. I felt more alone last night than ever before and it would have been so comforting to have someone to snuggle up to in bed – someone to stay with me. I wanted to keep my bedside light on, but then I terrified myself by wondering whether the photographers were on a stake out in a derelict flat across the road! It’s obvious that I’ve been watching too much television – that’s what you do when you’re single and don’t have much of a social life. The only person that I could have really called in the middle of the night was Tamsin, but she’d think I was demented too. I mean, I’ve hardly reached celebrity status and I know that the tabloids are just curious, wanting a bit of scandal about the squeaky clean Ben Scott. But they won’t be getting it from me.

I took a little extra time this morning to make sure I look good, just in case the photographers were out there again, but I needn’t have bothered. I opened the front door with a grin anyway, just in case, and walked to the Tube station trying to master my confident stride. I’m probably dressed slightly over the top for work today, my white linen trousers weren’t a great bet, considering the aches of imminence in my pelvis, but my tired eyes are hidden behind my white-framed Sophia Loren sunglasses so nobody will notice that rabbit-in-the-headlights glaze to them. God only knows what face AJ will pull when she sees what I’m wearing and I know I’m in for a tough time, facing off to Delaney about what I’m going to write for my column. If there ever was a morning that I needed to stop for a coffee, it’s this morning. Maybe I’ll grab a lemon muffin too – ever since Adrian gave me his one, I can’t stop thinking about him.

I mean, them.

The lemon muffins….

*

Ade had intended to grab a quick macchiato to take away, but as he’d stood in the queue he couldn’t help but notice the open pages of The Sun which was spread on one of the tables. He raised his eyebrows and then frowned, as he shuffled sideways, edging out of the queue to make sure that his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.

They weren’t.

And he wasn’t sure that he liked it.

*

Checking my watch, I realise that I have at least 20 minutes before Delaney will start writing ridiculously large messages on sheets of A4 and leaving them on my keyboard. I’m certain that a skinny latte and a muffin will set me straight. I’ve decided what I’m going to write for Relationship Rehab. I’m going to go in from the angle that we Londoners are all so different, which means that we need different events to fully engage with such a variety of diverse people. And then I’ll add that Wine Not? just was not for me. As I step from the morning sunshine into Starbucks, darkness falls and I lift my sunglasses from my face, sliding them up into my hair. There are only 6 people in front of me, and I stretch my neck to check the glass cabinet, making sure there are skinny lemon muffins there waiting for me. I inch forward as the queue shortens and I’m just ready to give my order when I notice Adrian, sat at a table in the window as he drinks his coffee. He notices me and smiles a rather fabulous smile, giving me a nod and a mouthed ‘hi’. I blush as I nod back and give a stupid little wave. Seconds later I’m ordering my coffee and jump as I feel his hand in the small of my back. I’m surprised he hasn’t burnt his fingers! He waits until I’ve paid and whispers in my ear,

“Come over and join me.” I check my watch and realise that I have no excuse not to, so collect my latte and muffin and fake that confident stride as I make for his table.

“Hi,”

“Hi,” his smile knocks me out.

“So,” I fumble for conversation, “what you doing in here this morning? Don’t you usually take your coffee to work with you?”

“Oh, just thought I’d kill a few minutes.”

There’s an awkward silence before he speaks again. I have a mouthful of muffin when he says,

“Em, Sophie. Have you seen the paper?”

“No,” I mumble, spongy yellow flakes falling from my over-spilling muffined mouth. He looks awkward as he spins the newspaper around to me, “I think you’d better see this.”

There’s a picture of me leaving the house last night and flashing my white lace knickers! I’m immediately caught in a strange loop of being relieved and delighted that I had such a thorough wax and spray tan, and yet feeling ashamed and embarrassed that my inner thighs are now splashed across a national newspaper!

“So,” he asks lightly, slurping on his coffee and staring at me, “what’s that all about?” And he listens carefully and thoughtfully as I spill out my guts – all the news about the disastrous dates, and the married men and the false promises and my quest to stay single and how Delaney heard me moaning and has now pushed me to write this Relationship Rehab column and how Sky want to talk to me for their chat show and how I used to date Ben Scott and that I know stuff about him that I don’t want to come out on national television. And how I was scared last night and through the night that the paps were outside my house and how ridiculous it all is!

I have to admit that I feel so much better after getting it all off my chest, and I have to say that, for a square kind of guy who works with figures, he doesn’t seem shocked or disgusted at me.

“Look,” he said, “just let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you.”

He was nice.

*

Ade walked with Sophie to the lifts, immediately dropping his smile, the second they parted company. He felt like shit – pretending to her that he didn’t know about her night out at the wine dating and her column and felt even worse when he remembered that he’d encouraged Trevor to get the paps around to her house. He even continued letting her think that he worked with ‘figures’ which had started as his innuendo for the bikini’d babes that he wrote about for Geezer. Sophie was too nice for all this and he felt bad now. She was attractive, funny and cute; and he didn’t want to target her for Ade Gets Laid. Actually, he didn’t want to write Ade Gets Laid any more. This was all going horribly wrong.

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Seventeen

Pulling Power #5

Thanks to the beautiful 'G' for this clip - beautiful guy, beautiful accent...



Pulling Power are still looking for more clips - send them in to singlesophieregan@yahoo.co.uk

Chapter Fifteen

“D’ya reckon Trevor has been acting weird this week?” Ade asked Katy, an administrator at Geezer. “Only he’s been asking loads of questions about my work over the last couple of days.” He leaned in toward her and whispered, “You haven’t heard anything about job changes or promotions have you?”

“No Ade,” she smiled and shook her head, her neon hoop earrings shuddering and swinging long after her head and stopped shaking. Trevor was acting strangely and Ade was suspicious. He’d asked a shed load of questions this morning about Sophie Regan and was dying to know whether Ade had had any ‘success’ with her. “No,” Ade had replied to him, cutting him short, “and just leave it. Slowly slowly catchy monkey, eh?”

“Ha!” Trevor had guffawed whilst lifting a bacon sandwich to his mouth, “if all you’re after is a bleedin’ monkey, mate, you’d better come down Covent Garden with me then. One Friday night after work. Ugly bugs ball? You ain’t seen nothing like it!”

“Yeah,” Ade had replied, preoccupied and vacant. He had to write his piece about Ade Gets Laid and wasn’t sure what to say. After all, he didn’t want to come clean and admit that he was bored and tired of pretending to be the playboy and now wanted a slightly calmer and more balanced lifestyle. He’d read a great blog online recently, written by Australian journalist, Sam de Brito about chat up lines. He had quoted a joke claiming that the ‘best pick-up line in the world is three inches long, white and snorted in a toilet cubicle…” and it reminded him of Trevor’s style of pick up, although the author of the blog went on to reiterate that drugs and chat up lines were both rather cheesy. Trevor was usually quiet at work and didn’t bother Ade too much, but today was proving to be an exception. He needed to get away from Trevor, making his excuse to go and interview Summer Lawson – the latest hot babe who was willing to show what she had for breakfast for a few column inches in Geezer. Once again Ade thought about how his friends joked about his ‘great’ job, thinking that he was surrounded by babes in white bikinis that had the added bonus of getting paid to talk to them.

But it wasn’t ringing true – despite Adrian Ford’s wide smile and brave face.

*

Tamsin wished she didn’t love Pete. It would all be heaps easier if he wasn’t so important in her life. She tried to convince herself that it was just the two of them, but she knew there were others. She convinced herself on a daily basis that what the others didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, but she was kidding herself, and she knew it. She’d heard Sophie spit many times, how people played with hearts and lives so easily, so had never been able to tell her about Pete’s situation. Sometimes she really wanted to talk to Sophie though – she made numerous sacrifices for her man, and spent many lonely nights paying the consequences of them. It hurt, but when their lust had turned to emotion it was too late to walk away. He used to arrive at the hospital and drag her into an interview room or supplies cupboard and yank her nurses uniform up roughly, sliding his hand into her knickers and leaving her, minutes later, flushed and panting. It was awesome and exciting and they both became hooked on each other quickly. But as fun as their relationship was, it was lonely too. He worked extremely hard and had many commitments, which made it difficult to tell Sophie all about it. Tamsin spent many evenings alone, dressed up and ready for a great night out – only to find herself let down and watching Big Brother dressed in her sexiest underwear. Alone. She’d have to tell Sophie soon – but would wait for the right moment. And God only knew when that was going to be…

*

I’m getting ready to go to Wine Not? and I’m dreading it. I’ve already thought up my methods of detachment; in the event that I need to make a quick getaway. I’ve decided that, if I’m bored I’ll pretend my phone is on silent and is vibrating, so that I can make an excuse to walk away (and never come back), to go to the toilet and not return, or to burp really loudly after each mouthful of wine. I know it’s gross – but if I’m desperate anything will be acceptable!

It’s hard to know what to wear and I’ve been pondering over it since Monday. I went to the fashion department to see what I could pilfer and managed to convince Tracy to let me borrow the bright red tunic dress from H&M and the silver wedges. It’s times like this that I’m delighted that I went for a spray tan yesterday – my legs look great with the short(ish) red dress and heels. Tamsin was going to come with me but she now says that she’s expecting Pete to call in, so it looks as if I’m going alone. After spending hours on my hair and make-up, I step out of my front door and then something horrendous happens.

“Miss Regan? Miss Regan?”

I hear a man’s voice, light and friendly as I step out onto the London streets. It’s early evening and the heat is still intense, causing his voice to hang heavy.

I look around only to be blinded by a series of flashes going off in my face.

“Miss Regan? You’ve made a public promise to stay single for a year? Did that have anything to do with your relationship with Ben Scott?”

I’m mortified, and can’t even see their faces properly because of the bursts of white light in my face. How many of them are there?

“What? I..” It’s hopeless trying to talk to them, and more seem to arrive within seconds. I don’t know what to do know – I was hoping to walk to the station, but my car is sitting there empty, and it’d be madness not to just hop in and drive away.

“Miss Regan, you’ve mentioned a series of married men that have been pestering you – do you want to pass on any names? Are any of them friends or colleagues of Ben Scott?”

“Miss Regan – why did you decide to stay single?”

My mouth is opening and closing as if I’d just been immersed in cold water! This is insanity. My quiet promise to myself is mutating into this crazy circle – and all because they discovered that I dated Ben Scott. I suppose the Sky invitation hasn’t helped things. I get to my car and unlock it, fumbling with the keys and then relaxing as I see the few men tail off and begin to walk away. Taking a deep breath I open my car door and put my left foot into the foot well to climb in. As I squat and bend, twisting my body so that my bottom lowers into the seat whilst I crouch and duck my head so as not to bump it, a last camera flash comes from nowhere. Frozen to the spot as it flashes and the man runs off, I look down and realise that my two knees are rather far apart from each other.

“Shit!” I curse, “I’m sure my lacy knickers have just been papped. Damnit!!”

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Sixteen

Geezer - the men's magazine for Diamonds in the Rough

See more of Geezer magazine later this week at
www.sophiedilemma.com

Check back here for further info.......

(Geezer cover courtesy of www.lebusque.com)

Chapter Fourteen

Ade laughed – he was going through the motions with his buddies, but was wishing he was home. They’d been meeting at the pub every Sunday afternoon, to watch the football, for months; but he was relieved that this was the last game of the season. It was starting to get boring. His five friends and him had got friendly with a few of the women in The Bull & Bush and they always flirted with them. He listened as Gav hit on an attractive Australian blonde with one of his best lines,

“OK, so I came over here to buy you a drink, but it bothers me. What if we get on really well and have a few more drinks? The next thing we know you’re giving me your number because I'm way too shy to ask for it and I finally get up the nerve to call you. I take you to the cinema; we have a few fantastic meals out. I relax, you relax, we go out a few more times and get to know each other's friends? We start spending some serious time together and then the sexual tension bursts and we have the most incredible, intense sex life that blows us both away. We realise that our relationship is solid and so you move into my flat, we eventually get married, we both get promoted and so we buy a bigger house. You really want babies, but I really want freedom, but we have a kid anyway, only to find that I become resentful. Then the sparks begin fading and we have 2 more beautiful children to rekindle the flame. Then I work far too much, just to keep up with the bills. Because of this I have no time for you which makes you stressed and down and you and stop taking really good care of yourself. So, then I become worried about our lack of sex life, and my self-confidence plummets – I turn to someone else, because I am really immature sometimes, and have an affair and then it gets really awful, cos I’m loving the sexual gratification. You find out, cos you’re smart and clever and beautiful and you throw me out. But then we have to explain to the children why Mummy and Daddy are splitting up. God, it’s just so sad. Think about the children…... So, for God's sake, if you let me buy you a drink, and we hit it off, let's just keep it sexual, because we both know where it's going.”

Ade reads her face as she looks at Gav with a twinkle in her eye. He couldn’t fathom whether it was a twinkle of humour or a flicker of pity, but he wasn’t hanging around to find out. He had planned to write some grittier pieces this week and wanted to research the rise of the British chat show, hoping to interview some of the BBC officials later in the week. He hadn’t yet written his short ‘Ade Gets Laid’ column, despite having plenty of opportunities over the weekend to listen to the nagging voice of the bulge in his boxers, urging him to find another beautiful woman to take home. He was confused lately though and it was disabling his babe radar. He finished his pint and sneaked out – leaving his friends to drink out the evening. He walked home, thoughts of Sophie Regan, tormenting him. He wondered, rather disturbingly whether he was starting to slow down a little – ‘maturing’ his Mum called it, and he supposed, at 32, it was probably time, although he wasn’t particularly happy about it. He just couldn’t get Sophie out of his mind lately. She intrigued him. Her decision to stay single and what she’d written about her horrendous dating experiences made him want to know more. She was getting under his skin and since Angela Johnson had told him that she’d once dated Ben Scott, it made him even more interested to know the real Sophie Regan and what made her tick.

“Fuckit, I haven’t even started to write up this weeks Ade Gets Laid. Looks like I’m going to have to make it all up. Again!”

*

I spent all weekend trying desperately hard not to reply to Ben’s sexy text message. He was great at sex texts and it was so tempting to send one back. But I knew it would have been a VBM (very bad move). And I’ve already made too many of them in my romantic life. We’d had a strange relationship, Ben and I. We were fabulous in bed. Actually we were rather ace at all types of non verbal communication – including text messaging. Our relationship had been born on the SMS airwaves and he had charmed me, sweeping me straight off my feet and onto my back in a matter of days. It was a shame that he wasn’t able to back up his text messages with the same enthusiasm over a longer period of time….

*

I’m sitting on the Tube contemplating what I’ll wear to ‘Wine Not?’. I don’t relish the thoughts of a wine tasting dating night – dating with drinks has always been a disaster for me. I either get roaring drunk and everybody looks fabulous – or I am the sober focus for some guy who is wearing his ultra-thick beer goggles. The fact is, if Delaney is going to insist that I continue reporting on the singleton scene of London, then I need to look good, and I don’t. I was hoping to fade into the background with my secret pact to stay single, but it looks as if I’m going to be dragged, probably kicking and screaming, onto Sky television. Imagine the media slant? Imagine the critics? I can just see it now,

‘Staying Single through choice or chance?

Meet Sophie Regan, the woman who has decided to remain single, but guys,

would YOU date this woman?’

What if they think that I’ve said that because I can’t get a guy! That really would be the nail in the coffin for me. Jennifer and Mum would certainly disown me. It’s made me see that I’ve never really focussed seriously on dating; it’s all been a rather hit-and-miss affair, or hit-and-Mrs when it was the married guys chatting me up. I must rise to this challenge and start focusing on my inner and outer body beautiful. I need to stop over-analysing everything and get to the gym and the beauty salon – If I’m going to be bandied about as ‘the woman who chose to stay single’ then I need to look as if I have a choice!

I can’t remember the last time I said ‘no’ to a date request – even if I didn’t like the guy!

Things have not been good.

And they’re going to improve.

Quickly!

Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fifteen