Pulling Power #16

The cocky ones have raised their heads again.

A little bit of arrogance can go a looooong way though.

Would they work on YOU?




Send your chat up and dating stories to singlesophieregan@yahoo.co.uk

Chapter Forty - A Woman Scorned

I’m on the phone to Jennifer and I’m shocked at what she’s telling me. Don’t get me wrong - I’m a woman of the world, I know what goes on, but my own sister!! She sounds dreadful, whimpering and broken. Nothing like the feisty bossy older sister that I know and, kind of, love.
“Ah jesus, Soph, I’m in a mess. The bottom line? I can’t get away from the marching powder, Soph. It’s taking at least 3 lines just to get me out of bed in the mornings. My life is a complete sham. A lie. I’m doing all the wrong things with all the wrong men and telling my secrets and lies to women who only pretend to be my friends. I’m a mess. Help me Sophie.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, aware that Delaney is waiting for me in her office and I know that I’m about to say something that I’ll regret. But... She is my sister - as materialistic and shallow as that is...
“Jen. Come and stay with me for a while. Get away from Dublin and all that scene. But on one condition, Jennifer. No drugs. You come here? You leave all that behind you. Deal?”
Her voice is thick with emotion as she whispers,
“Deal. Sophie?”
“What?”
“Thank you.”

*

Jennifer spent about 5 minutes feeling relieved that Sophie had rushed to her rescue, and then spent the next hour whooping and squealing around her bedroom, flinging her designer clothes into her Louis Vuitton suitcase between dusting out a few shabby lines of white powder for herself. The Dublin social scene had been getting her down for a while now and the pretence of keeping up her appearances was a burden on her shoulders. She’d slept with too many husbands and inappropriate men over the last few weeks and she was desperate for an excuse to get away from it all. She was ecstatic at the thoughts of telling her ‘friends’ that she’s going to stay with her ‘celebrity’ sister for a few weeks in London!
“Yeah!” she practised her pouted, blase expression in the mirror in preparation, “she’s the Sophie Regan. Yeah, the one who promised to stay single for a year and is now flooded with the most gorgeous eligible bachelors. I mean,” she smirked at her reflection, “it’d be rude not to go and help her out, wouldn’t it?”

*

I had a row with AJ today and it’s shaken me right up. I knew she was a weasely bitch, but had no idea of the true extent of her hatred for me! I gave as good as I got, but I have to admit, from the comfort of my sofa I can reflect on how she really took my breath away. And all I can think of doing is calling Rob. Not even Tamsin? But Rob! How ridiculous! Why am I thinking about him so much lately? He’s completely inappropriate for me, lives in his overalls, is always dirty and unshaven and doesn’t have time for a social life! I’ve been introduced and chased by some of the most fanciable males to walk the earth and I’m thinking about Rob?
Anyway, AJ. You won’t believe it when I tell you. She’s poison. I wish she was really short - then I could call her the poisoned dwarf, but even that won’t work out considering she’s about five-nine. She’s a tall tower of nastiness!
I went into the kitchen to grab a mug of green tea before going in to see Delaney and walked straight into her and Victoria Harris whispering by the water cooler. It was so obvious that they’d been discussing me. The air was frozen with their sniping words that hung like daggers above me as I grabbed my mug from the dishwasher. I was certain I’d heard her say ‘Ben Scott’s number’ as I’d walked in and I couldn’t help but ask her.
“What did you just say?” I’d asked, as nicely as I could and with a little friendly smile. I knew I was right when AJ blushed like a beetroot and stammered,
“Em, I was talking about Den’s new plumber.”
“Ha ha!” I’d boomed, “bullshit.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” AJ had snapped, a dangerous glint in her eye.
“Nothing.” I’d shrugged, ready to leave the kitchen. But I hadn’t been prepared for what was to follow.
“OK!” AJ spat, raising her voice, “I’ll tell you what I was talking about. I’ll tell you the bloody truth!” She walked toward me aggressively, swinging her arms and baring her teeth. I couldn’t help but notice that she went a little boss eyed and for a split second I was desperate to laugh, she looked a little like something I’d seen on Dr Who at the weekend. Anyway, she continued to rant, Victoria Harris smirking in the background.
“I’m gonna push your stupid, conceited arse out of here. Ever since you arrived you’ve been swanning around like you own the fucking place! I’m gonna show you for what you really are. A fake, pretentious publicity seeker who would do anything to get in the headlines. Who the fuck did you think you were stuck on the pages of Geezer magazine? You and your pathetic fat arse, airbrushed to make yourself look like somebody you’re SO not! And you know what? The Geezer guys think you’re fucking prize! Literally! You’re a prize arse, and a prize embarrassment, but most of all Sophie Regan - you were their fucking prize! Oh, you didn’t know about the bet between Malone and Ford? Woops, deary me, I’ve let it slip! Just be ready for it Sophie - cos I’m gonna unleash all of your shit and knock you off that ridiculous perch you’ve tried to build for yourself. You, Sophie-freaking-Regan, will be well and truly embarrassed! So be ready for it!”

And I was so stunned that I brushed past her and let the kitchen door swing closed behind me. I have to admit that I wondered what the hell she was talking about.
Am I a publicity seeker?
And it’s got me thinking - about how everyone else sees me too?
And the bet?
I knew that Adrian and Trevor were playing me off between them, but as a bet! My confidence and self esteem are shattered and I feel about ten stone heavier than I am as I sob uncontrollably into my wet hands.
I only ever wanted to stay single to help get my life back on track and look what I’ve done.
Made a complete fool of myself for the world to see.
*
Rob ponders on the step outside Sophie’s front door, putting one foot up on the step and then bringing it back down to the path again. He glances to see whether there are any paparazzi tonight and he’s thankful to find it’s quiet. He slouches, hunching his shoulders with indecision. Mumbling to himself, he checks his watch. It’s still only early-ish. 9.35pm isn’t late by his standards, he’d only finished work an hour earlier and had seen through his plan to go home for a shower and clean up before making tracks to Sophie’s. And now he’s there, he’s nervous.
“C’mon Rob,” he wills himself as he steps up to the front door and rings the bell.
“It’s only Sophie.”
*
My sobs are so loud and guttural that for a split second I think I can hear the doorbell. Then I realise that it’s the sounds of me moaning and crying and the blood coursing around my head. It’s rather liberating, being able to cry from the bottom of your heart. I know I’m making animalistic noises, like the actresses on television when their husband/child/parent has been savagely killed, and it’s a little scary to hear what I’m capable of. So for another split second I stop. The silence rushes around me as I feel myself well up with more raw emotions. I’m now crying for everything that ever happened to me. I’m crying for losing my mother to a fake life in L.A, I’m crying for my coke-head sister who’s coming to stay, I’m crying for all the men that ever told me “it’s not you, it’s me,” when it quite clearly was me. I’m crying for losing Ben Scott, and Danny-the-chav. I’m crying for waiting to lose my virginity until I was 19 when I so might has well have been screwing around before then. It’s not as if it actually got me anywhere - waiting. I’m still now in my early thirties and positively bloody lonely!!!!
Hang on. There’s that buzz again.
My god.
It is the doorbell.
Fuck!
And look at me! My face is smeared with tears and snot and my eyes are like pickled onions in swollen pink sockets.
The digital clock on the DVD player is flashing 21.39 so who could it be this time of night?
What if it’s the paps? They’d be delighted with a picture of me looking like this. Ha! That’d give AJ something to gripe about - what with her saying that I love myself and all that!
I turn all Nick-Nolte-in-Cape-Fear, as I sidestep toward the window and sneakily tug at the curtain to see who’s at the front door.
A slice of light shines down Rob’s left side and he turns to face me immediately.
Tam.
It must be Tam.
Something’s happened to her.
And so, forgetting all about my slippery face, I rush to the front door and fling it open.
Before I can catch my breath his mouth is on mine, his tongue gently probing between my lips as he nibbles and bites my mouth. Holding my head in his hands I fight for my breath as he slowly entwines his fingers through my hair, close to my scalp at the back of my head and he groans deep and low as I feel the full strength of his emotions in that one, long kiss.

Chapter Thirty Nine
Chapter Forty One

Pulling Power #15

The Cool Hand Lukes?

Or just the low-down dirty bums...





Pulling Power are looking for YOUR dating experiences, or chat up, dumper/dumpee stories.

Names can be changed to protect the not-so-innocent!!

Send them into singlesophieregan@yahoo.co.uk

Don't be shy..

Chapter Thirty Nine - A Whole New World Online

I’m ashamed to say that I’m living two lives. There’s my ‘real’ life - which is already changing at a faster rate than Paris Hilton’s jail sentence, and then there’s my ‘online’ life. I hadn’t realised how a few mouse clicks and an innocuous blank screen really is the window to a ‘whole new world’ - at the risk of sounding like Katie & Peter! I’ve been blown away by the mass of messages sent to my Staying Single website and am in awe at the huge amount of social networking sites that are out there. I’ve started up MySpace.com and Bebo.com accounts too - at Delaney’s recommendation - and if it wasn’t for Jacqui, my new assistant, then I’d never have the time or inclination to answer these propositions and character assassinations. I mean, what do you say to this:


To: singlesophieregan@yahoo.co.uk
From: nibbler123@aol.com
Subject: You won‘t be single for long...

Babe, you’re totally gorgeousssss. My face is your armchair - come and sit on it.
'Nibbler' xx

or this one

To: singlesophieregan@yahoo.co.uk
From: lawrence55@btinternet.co.uk
Subject: No messing - marry me!

I know you will have had hundreds of emails from freaks and perverts promising you eternal happiness or the biggest orgasm, but take it from me, I am your Mr Right. I have my own businesses and earn way over £250,000 a year. I will give you the perfect life. You are the perfect woman for me - brains and beauty, humour and independence - I want you. Be mine. You won’t be sorry. I have 2 tickets for a weekend in Venice and one of them has your name on it. Come with me. You’ll see I’m genuine and a great catch too.
Worth a try.
Life is short, but life is long too.
Think about it.
Larry.xxx


Sounds kind of tempting, but also kind of freaky. If he’s such a great catch what the hell is he doing sending ME emails!

It’s late on a Sunday evening and I can feel the energy draining from me as I lay on my sofa and try to relax. It’s so hot and my lights are out and windows wide open. The breeze is wafting in over my flip flopped feet and my mind is reeling with what a crazy few weeks it’s been. I know I’m looking better than I have done for years and yet it all seems superficial. When I think back to my initial horror at being photographed by the paparazzi and how I’d clung to Rob’s arm at the sheer prospect of leaving the house, it makes me giggle. I’m now so St Tropez’d and waxed and groomed that I’m positively disappointed if there’s no photographers lurking behind the begonias! In my quieter moments, when I’m not attending celebrity parties or receiving bouquets of flowers or writing guest features for national newspapers, I actually look back and realise how I was limiting myself in my quest to find a man. I probably should have gone to a life coach really, rather than make such a huge promise to stay single for a year. But it’s a little late now. I’m still only about halfway through! I can see that I was choosing to date inappropriate guys - how I was almost hiding behind their faults and foibles, ready to use them as an excuse for ending the relationship. Or even how I’d deliberately date men who were so obviously a bad match that it would be inevitable that they’d dump me. I was clingy and needy and so obviously desperate - it’s no wonder they ran kicking and screaming! I’m far more empowered now, but still struggling with this dilemma. I’ve been approached by some seriously credible and eligible bachelors. I have to admit that I’ve even dated a couple of them, and will divulge one step further and admit that I’ve had a few gorgeous tongue-lingering kisses with them too. The trouble with kissing is, if you do it with someone who knows how to do it well, it’s all rather, well, addictive. But I’m not sure what I want from life now. I’m enjoying my independence but find myself longing for someone to share it all with. I look forward to seeing Rob whenever he calls over - which isn’t very much - or to talking to him on the phone. He calls every now and again to check that I’m ok and haven’t been abducted by any strange dates. I normally text him before I meet somebody new and I give him their name and email address, where they work (or at least where they told me they work) and their mobile number... Just in case I’m found in the bushes anywhere. He laughs at me now and calls my texts his Bush Tucker Trials - on the assumption that if anything goes wrong he’s on a mission to find me!
It does worry me though. I’m dating some great guys but know that I’d never have met them if it wasn’t for my ‘promise’, which leads me to question their motives. The Paul Ashkuri incident and then the Adrian Ford thing has left a bad taste in my mouth and I’m less trusting than ever now. It pains me to even say Adrian’s name. My stomach lurches with a longing every time my mobile bleeps with yet another text along the lines of:

From: Adrian Ford
Good night baby, won’t sleep
properly til I no u’ve 4givn me.
Try get sum rest n pls meet me this
wk. U dn’t no how sorry I am.
I blew it. Regret it every day. xx

He’d started as my little fantasy - my very own, real life office romance but he’d mutated into a Jekyll & Hyde.

But should I forgive him?

In trying to stay single I’d hoped that the days had gone when I got bored and dumped a guy, or they’d messed me about and dumped me for some pathetic reason. But maybe those days will never be gone. I’m tormented now.. It doesn’t help that I had a dream the other night that’s still haunting me. My Mother and Jennifer were standing before me, shaking their hands and wagging their fingers and telling me how I am shrugging off the best thing that ever happened to me.
And that I am emotionally constipated...
That’s horrific.
Am I?

*

Ben Scott stares at the bright screen on his laptop as he sits on his rooftop terrace drinking neat vodka from the bottle. He’d been logging onto Sophie Regan’s website for the last couple of weeks and had just signed in to Bebo.com as JohnPamenter and had found singlesophieregan on there too. He’d checked out how Oonagh had been her first friend online, and how she had over 200 friends. It seemed her promise to remain single was a popular one and it bothered him that her celebrity status was rising. He found an image of a handsome guy on Flickr and uploaded it to his new bebo account, ready to send a new friend request to singlesophieregan. She’d never guess that he was going to be her new stalker...

*

Tamsin was bored with it all. Pete was making her feel worse rather than better and ever since the thing with his wife, she couldn’t trust him, despite trying desperately hard to. She’d spent the entire evening online and had come across a hilarious and thought-provoking site about working in a call centre. It was blatantly honest, but there was one particular story on there that made her think twice about dating a married guy. It’s called Monday Night and raised the ominous issue of step children. The call centre guys had been talking about being a step parent and they‘d joked about ****ing the parent. It unnerved Tam - that she was a young woman on the brink of stepping into a ready made life. It suddenly dawned on her that she was selling herself short. Sophie was meeting some fabulous guys and she was settling for somebody elses man.
Things had to change.
She needed to talk to Sophie...

Chapter Thirty Eight
Chapter Forty

Pulling Power #14

Some come back lines from the girlies....

Chapter Thirty Eight - The Summer of Love?

I returned from my week in Gran Canaria to a whole new life and I’ve spent the summer months living a bizarre circus that slightly resembled my old life, but was dazzling and neon. In my week of sun and sangria’d minging-singles-holiday-hell things had changed at Woman to Woman. In fact, my entire life took a rather upward turn in the weeks since then.

Firstly Victoria Harris came out of rehab whilst I was away and I returned with a glorious suntan (and mild heat rash across my chest and an irritatingly dry scalp!), to find her glaring at me, all pale skin and cheekbones from across the office. From that first glance of her I knew that she wasn’t as ‘into’ my Relationship Rehab as the rest of the population. But then again, I’d taken her column inches, so it was little surprise really. My website had exploded with messages and ‘hits’ and Delaney nearly pulled the flip flops off of me as she’d dragged me into her office for ‘the latest’. She’d told me that I’d been at the centre of an office feud, as Victoria had insisted on reclaiming her column, but Delaney had shaken the emails in her face like a Spanish fan as she’d squealed with delight at how Richard & Judy wanted me to appear, along with requests from Cosmopolitan and RedBook magazine to write features and sell my staying single story!

In the weeks that followed I can’t tell you how many times I was glad that I’d hated the Singles Holiday! It had meant that I spent so much more time beside the pool, and returning home with that fabulous suntan set me in great stead for the upcoming events. The photo shoot with Geezer? I’d be so nervous, but it was completely fabulous! I’d made sure that I was waxed and tweezed to within an inch of my life and I felt great. Remember those airbrushed Kate Winslet pictures in GQ mag? I got the same treatment and it was the start of a massive media spin. Of course, once I got over my initial nerves and realised that neither Trevor nor Ade would be at the photo shoot, I loved the whole experience. My excitement on publication day was slightly dampened by Tam and Jen both calling and screeching down the phone that the pictures looked nothing like me, but I knew it was me! And so did Ade - judging by the sporadic emails he is still sending me by means of apology. ‘Clever Trevor’ Malone continued to send me bouquets, but soon became bored and stopped. Either that or he was put off by the immense competition as suddenly I had guys literally falling at my feet, teasing me with lavish gifts and expensive nights out. And it was just fun, fun, fun all the way-hay...

Only it wasn’t.

And I’m glad now that the summer is coming to a close and the leaves are beginning to crinkle, a little like my resolve to stay single. I’ve never been good at seeing the wood from the trees and now with this influx of strange new men, I’ll admit that without Tam and Rob to prop me up I’m sure I’d have thrown in the proverbial towel by now. I’ve become a ‘brand’, a ‘product’ and I have something now, called a ‘profile’ - which I don’t want. All I wanted was to get some balance back into my life by choosing not to have a monkey - I mean, a man. And it’s all gone bananas.

*

It’s been nearly five months since I started this fiasco and I’m lonelier than ever! It’s strange, isn’t it, that when I was dating the wrong guys and getting dumped left right and centre I was shrugging bad dates off with a resilience and optimism. But now I’ve been immersed in the singleton world I feel lonely and sad. I only ever really noticed couples before with a slightly cynical outlook that it probably wasn’t as great as it all appeared, but now I’m ready to share my life with that special guy, but it’s like sand in my hands - the tighter I try to squeeze, the faster it seems to slip away.
Delaney’s latest idea makes me nervous too. She called me into her office last week...
“Sophie? Liz Jones from Tatler was telling me about the perfect dating site for you to report on. www.sugardaddie.com and www.millionairematch.com are sites where the ‘classy and affluent can meet’. You need to find out more about this. Get yourself on there Sophie and see who you can find? I want you to try this out and write it up for your next column.”
So I’ve been adding my tired profile to these sites and I have to admit the guys generally come across as great - you don’t seem to get so much of that desperado look, those stupid puppy dog eyes or cocky geezer types that the other dating sites are littered with. So I’m sitting naked on my bed, cross-legged with my laptop in front of me as I try to ignore my boobs as they jiggle before me as I type in the answers to the questions that the sugardaddies want to know about me - how much I earn a year, what my body type is, and what I’m looking for in a relationship... Same old, same old, same old.....
And then I notice a face that I recognise.
And I’m shocked.
Firstly, because I had no idea that he earned that kind of money.
And secondly, because I’ve been fighting strong feelings for him and now, realising that he’s loaded and looking for love, has made it all seem different.
And I’m shocked to feel my stomach flip with fear that some Barbie doll will snap him up and get him before I can.
I suddenly realise what I might lose and how much he’s started to mean to me.....

Chapter Thirty Seven - Reality Bites
Chapter Thirty Nine -

Pulling Power #13

A few 'choice' chat up lines straight from Playa del Ingles, Gran Canaria.

Singles holidays don't mean that the chat up lines are any better! Trust me!