Chapter Forty Eight - Love Triangles Are SO Square!

I wish I could get this seasonal glow that everybody else seems to have right now, but it’s weird, knowing that I won’t actually be here for Christmas this year. Mum has changed venues for this wedding so many times that I’m still not 100% sure where it’s going to be. She started off by saying that it was in Los Angeles and over the course of the last six months it’s moved to a ranch in Texas, onto a boat somewhere off the Keys, a casino in Vegas and now we’re back to good old L.A once again. Wherever the wedding takes place it’s almost a dead cert that the weather will be better than English weather at Christmas. Forget the notion of thick snowflakes, we’re more likely to get rain and winds. It’s a little romantic, watching the red-cheeked shoppers bustling along Oxford Street, although I’m already sick of listening to all those damned Christmas songs that they drag out year after year. I feel so desperate for the shop assistants - they must be all Xmas’d-out by the time they lock up for 2 days at 5pm on 24th December. But I love London at Christmas time - the outdoor ice rinks, the Christmas tree at Trafalgar Square, the toy shops, the smell of hot chestnuts at every street corner. Makes me feel all tingly and childish and I love it. It would just be complete with that special guy to share it all with. Thankfully it won’t be an issue this year, as I’m jetting off to US with Jennifer in a couple of weeks time. Maybe it’ll make me enjoy next Christmas all the more? Maybe, by getting away from it all this year, I won’t feel so lonely at this ‘family’ time of year. Ironic, isn’t it!


*

Rob took a deep breath as he clicked the red button on his mobile to disconnect the call. His credit card was still in his hand as he went to the kitchen and poured himself a cold beer from the fridge. He’d taken the elk by the antlers now. He loved this time of year and knew, from the many late night chats with Sophie, that she did too. But was this going to be too much? Would she think he’d completely taken leave of his senses? It had started out with him wanting to ask her to go with him to see the tree going up in Trafalgar Square, and then he’d begun to stress over how to ask her. He didn’t want to sound like one of those corny chat up lines that she’d been receiving by the sackload. And so his imagination had started to work overtime and he’d really pulled all the stops out now. The truth for Rob was that he knew that he was in love with Sophie and he wanted her in his life for a long time. He’d never made any moves on her, but how he’d wanted to over the last few weeks. There’d been many an evening when he’d been laying on her sofa chatting to her as she’d been curled up in her armchair wearing her shorts and vest pyjama combo as she’d sat, completely free of make up and with her mussed up hair, and they’d talked for hours about their earliest memories, their favourite pet, how they felt about their parents or siblings and what their ultimate ambitions in life were. He had so wanted to sit up and lightly grasp her wrists and pull her across to him. He’d so wanted to lay her down beside him and cup her face and kiss her deep and slow on her pretty mouth. There’d been many nights when she’d called him after another horrendous date or a ‘situation’ with the paparazzi and he’d shot round to her place and had poured her some chilled pinot grigio and listened to her moan or cry or even shout about the stupid promise she’d made to stay single for a year. She’d looked fabulous some of these evenings - he’d particularly liked the black taffeta skirt and shiny black shoes that made her legs look overwhelmingly sexy. He’d been closely involved in her life for long enough now to have seen the ups and the downs of Sophie Regan, along with her quirks and her irritating habits - like relentlessly interrupting and talking in her sleep - to know that she was the woman that he wanted. He wanted her long term. And dare he even begin to think it, but for the first time in his life, he could see himself getting married at some stage far away in the future.

Lowering himself onto the kitchen chair slowly he drank from his pint glass, ignoring the frothy white moustache that the drink left over his top lip. He looked down at the brochure on the table and couldn’t quite believe that he’d just paid over £600 to hire the log cabin in Scotland for the long weekend. But he had. It was helped by the new contract that he’d just signed with a high-profile Tour Management and Personal Security company that were well reputed media favourites. They’d signed him exclusively to work with their fleet of prestige cars and it was guaranteed to be a nice and regular earner for him. Now all he had to do was to, somehow, persuade Sophie to go with him. He wanted to show her the whole cosy Christmas deal. It was bad enough that she was going away for the holiday season, but made it all a whole lot cheaper. The same log cabin over the Christmas weekend would have set him back over £2000. He wanted to snuggle up in front of the huge open fireplace and toast marshmallows and drink hot chocolate with her. He wanted the whole dream. He wanted her to go to her Mum’s wedding in America with him firmly planted in her mind and in her heart.

*

It’s a surprisingly bright morning for early December and I’m determined to get my head together in preparation for this wedding. Jen has promised me that she’ll stay with me until the wedding and then when we return to UK in early January, she’ll spend a couple of days getting her stuff together and book her flight back to Ireland. I’m rather miffed with the whole S.O.S call from her. She arrived looking great and has become rather a social butterfly since arriving here. I’m convinced she’s still partial to the odd ‘line’ most days a week, given her hyper personality coupled with the paranoia and moodiness, but I’m not her mother! She can do what she likes. I’m feeling so breezy this morning that I even feel brave enough to face Starbucks, brazen to the suggestion that Adrian might be in there. If there’s ever a morning I’m up for a Soy Chai Latte and Skinny Lemon Muffin, it’s today. And I’m even going to buy one for Ellie too. I’m still puzzling over Jen’s motives with Rob and as I stand in the short queue (no Ade, I checked!) I can’t shake off how I was shocked, the other day, to find Jen and Rob having a cosy heart-to-heart around my kitchen table. I felt a shocking twinge of jealousy and it was, well, shocking! I still can’t quite figure out whether it was jealousy because Rob was there for Jen (and I wanted him only to be there for me!), or jealousy that I think Jen is interested in him. I know that she only ever goes for men with money, but there’s no denying that Rob is charming and cute and rather sexy too.
God!
Did I just say that?
He is?
Now, I’m more confused than ever!
Oh no. And here’s Adrian. I now have to stand in this queue with him behind me. Which means that he can check me out and I can’t do the same to him.
Although I have noticed that he has a drop-dead sexy black shirt on today which really makes his shoulders look defined and his chest rather broad.
Hmmmm.
Rob?
Rob who.....

Chapter Forty Seven
Chapter Forty Nine

Chapter Forty Seven - Suddenly I See!

I’ve just realized that my best-friend (my long-term one, as opposed to my new one (i.e., Rob!)) is a serial girlfriend. When she was with Pete she displayed characteristics that made me suspect it, but after the conversation that we’ve just had on the phone I’ve decided that it’s a dead cert. The woman has drifted from Pete to Ade seamlessly. From what she’s saying it’s as if she hasn’t realized she’s with a different guy! OK, so she’s mentioned that Ade is far better endowed that Pete (I didn’t want to know that – for 2 reasons! One – I don’t even want to know about Pete’s wedding tackle and Two – the thoughts of her playing around with Ade make me green with envy!), and she’s commented on Pete being more emotionally mature than Ade – which is no surprise given that he’s about 15 years older! She’s talking to me as though she’s living a dream that she’s still with Pete and he’s left his wife. Listening to her mooning about moving in with Adrian and how he’s the only man that she wants to have sex with for the rest of her life is rather bizarre. They’ve only been together for a month. Talk about fast-tracking! I can just imagine Adrian cringing at all of this. And it’s obvious that she’s not telling me in a girlie-secret way - she’s quite open and honest about it all with Ade too. But maybe he isn’t cringing? Maybe he wants the long term deal?
Which is all rather hard to take on board.
Have you ever spoken to a friend and listened to her rant or coo over something, but you just know that they’ve got it all wrong? What do you do? Speak up and tell her and risk bursting her bubble, or simply nod and agree until the time is right for a cosy chat? It’s a taboo subject for me to discuss with her – the whole concept of ‘Adrian’. Then again, she didn’t hesitate to jump in there once she knew that I was well out of the way.
If I was with a new guy, ‘Adrian’, no! Just a new guy that I really liked then I’d want to be made to feel special – not even made to feel special, just to feel special naturally! I’d want some quality time for us to get to know each other – something more to build some special memories on rather than watching him on his laptop on a Saturday night or being complacent as he turns up in his shabby jogging bottoms night after night. There’s enough time for all that ten years down the line! I want to look forward to that excitement about meeting up, the flapping and fussing over how to make the effort to look dead sexy and to watch his face light up when he sees you. I want to see that lust in their eye, that wanting, greedy look as they look at you across the table. I want the frisson, the fun, the thrill of being in company or being in a sweaty, packed nightclub or pub and knowing that they just can’t wait to get you home and have you all to themselves. I’d be desperate for the excitement and turbulence – which would be the cause of hundreds of phone calls to my friends – as we’d ponder and over-analyse every move, every word as I’d try to dissect whether he’s as much into me as I’d be in to them….
And then it would find a calmer level as we’d move into that tranquil zone of the warm glow as we’d have the intrigue and interest that takes place over the following months as we’d have got all of that frantic sex down to a fine art and we’d begin to learn about who we are and about our lives and families.
Tamsin must be mad, fast-tracking through these potentially heady weeks. She’s Dr Who’ing by living in the future – but it’s a future that Ade isn’t ready to learn about. I’d estimate that she’s about 4 years ahead of herself and all she wants is for Ade to go to her place and to cook for him. She’s sloppy in her shorts and ‘homely’ t-shirts and vests and looks forward to snuggling up and watching DVD’s together. But you can’t do that every night!
Can you?
And I was seriously surprised at the aggravated tone in her voice when she told me that he’d refused her offer on Saturday night, to bring his laptop around to her place and for him to work on her new idea for his Geezer column, in front of the television. She’s trying to bury the Ade Gets Laid tag and is encouraging him to write a new one to replace it – Gimme The Pipe & Slippers! No, not really, but it might as well be. She wants him to approach his boss with a new column idea that embraces the notion that all a man really wants is Gordon Ramsey in the kitchen, Sienna Miller on his arm and Miss Whiplash in the bedroom!

Strange then, that she seems to have turned into Andy from Little Britain!

*

Ade sat at his desk, dreading the thoughts of the weekend. He used to love Fridays – a few beers at lunchtime with the lads and then a few more after work, followed by a curry somewhere unsavoury. He’d always made a point of cooking something really funky at some point over the weekend and often a mate or two would call over and they’d watch the footie together. During his Ade Gets Laid hey-day he’d be out on a Saturday night looking for his next conquest. A complete contrast to his life now! He’d have been more than happy to settle for something in between that lifestyle and this one. It had really gone from a Peter Stringfellow existence to a Jim Royle one. Tam was a nice girl. But a boring one. And where he’d initially thought that perhaps her coming onto him was a prelude to pave the way for Sophie, the trail hadn’t so much gone cold so much as frozen over entirely.
He had to say something to her, but he hated hurting people. It was obvious to him that he was simply a replacement for Pete and that she was space-hopping her way through this rebound.
He had to do it before Christmas.
It was a shit time to break up a relationship by any standards, so to have it out of the way before mid December was crucial.

*

It’s 16.39 on a Friday afternoon and I’m desperate to get out of here and go home. Jennifer has said that she’s working on late shift at Tanfastic – which is Fan-fucking-tastic! It means that she won’t be home till late. The shop closes at 10pm and then they’ll all go out in a little bevy of orange glow and with the scent of burning skin as they bundle into the nearest wine bar. I have an evening completely to myself. So why do I feel the urge to spend it with Rob? Am I being needy? That dreaded word! Maybe Rob has plans? I’ve been thinking lots this afternoon about the Adrian and Tam situation and it’s made me see that things aren’t as rosy as they seem. And that has made me wonder about lots of things. I suddenly have 20/20 vision and can see with immense clarity that I’ve been on a right downer for the last few weeks. I’ve been really selfish and it’s all been about ‘me’. I haven’t once really considered how things are for Ade. Maybe he was telling the truth when he relentlessly apologised for his lousy behaviour. Maybe Trevor Malone was a key player in setting up the hideous situation.
But it’s too late now. It would seem wrong for me to contact him and any comments I make to Tamsin suggesting that she cool off a little, would be seen as bitterness and envy.
So I’ll say nothing.
For now.

Chapter Forty Six
Chapter Forty Eight

Chapter Forty Six - Sisters, Are Doing It For Themselves!

I’m traumatized after speaking to Darren and Ross. They were so bloody hip and cool and SO fanciable and made me seriously question my quest to stay single. I’m not in a good place right now, either. You know one of those days when you’re suddenly pissed off with how you look? And it seems to last for weeks? It’s as if, without realizing it, you’ve become bored with how you look. That same old face in the mirror every day, that same hair and same lipstick. Added to it is the fact that, despite physically being trimmer than I have been in years, I still continually have ‘fat’ days! I’m sure I’m suffering with the S.A.D’s. This ‘promise’ has forced me to look at myself too in a close-up, under-the-magnifying-glass way that screams ‘Mutiny’ – oh no, I mean ‘Scrutiny’ - it just feels as if I want to jump off of SS Sophie! It’s been heart-warming, receiving messages and emails from guys and I’ve realized how I’ve missed those innocuous comments that mean so much - the “are you OK?” and “how was your day?”
And it makes me rather shy and terrified to admit that I wait for Rob to call and ask me those very things. My day isn’t complete unless he’s called and asked me.
And he does.
He’s a gem.
He texts me in the morning to say:

Morning! Keep smiling & have a good 1 ;)

And then calls me every evening to ask if I’m alright and what my day was like.
He’s my rock.
My new-best-friend – but don’t tell Tamsin!
If only he had the charm and sex appeal of Ade, he’d be my perfect man….

*

As flippy as I am about Ross and Darren’s involvement in anything to do with my life (given their great looks, charm and highly-charged, positive energy) I am a little unsure about their Sophie Dilemma idea. I’ve been tossing it around in my head for the last couple of days and still can’t decide whether it’s a smart move or a shit one! They want me to go on some dates over the Christmas period and they want to film them and stream them live on the internet. They’re going to cut off the filming at a random moment during the date and then throw it out to the public for their idea as to what will happen next! Talk about lay yourself open for criticism! The idea behind it is to portray me as a woman who is subconsciously sabotaging my chances of love, and to involve the public by asking them where they think I’m going wrong! Why am I attracting married men? Why do I only get a few dates before I’m dumped? And why do I choose the wrong men?

Yes – horrific isn’t it?

As I’m being battered and shoved between commuters on my journey home, breathing in the spicy smells and bodily odours whilst sardined on the tube train, I decide that I need to talk this through with Rob. He’ll know whether it makes sense or not.
Rob…
My very own TVR - The Voice of Reason.

*

“So Rob,” as Sophie closes her eyes just as the smelly short man bumps into her on the tube train, Jen is sidling up toward Rob across Sophie’s kitchen table. If you were shorter than about 100cm, then you would see her crossing her bare legs beneath the table and twisting her foot lightly around Rob’s ankle. If you were one of Sophie’s fridge magnets, especially the one that states “ I’m on a
30-day diet.
So far I’ve
lost 15 days”,

then you’d have direct sight of Jennifer’s face – overly tanned and forcing a pouted, coy expression as she tries the puppy-dog eyes and wet-lipped look. If you were the toaster, you’d see Rob. Looking panicked and slightly on edge about the lusty glint in Jennifer’s eye and slightly shell-shocked by the foot thing that’s going on under the table. He hates himself for it, but he jumps when he hears Sophie’s key in the door. Jen grabs his forearm and pulls him closer to the table. He stiffens up but it’s too late. She has him in her clutches and he knows that Sophie is staring at them with her mouth open.
He counts to seven, his own mouth stretched into a beaming grin, as they stare at each other. Seven, eight, nine - before she speaks. Her voice is light and breezy, strained and forced into a jovial swing as she drops her handbag onto the sofa,
“Heyyyy,” she sings, “what are you two talking about?”
He notices the flash across her face and wonder’s who she’s mad at - him or her sister. Jennifer replies first, pouting a sad face and speaking like somebody who coo-s and ahhh’s at a baby.
“Oh, well,” her bottom lip is in danger of doubling up as a frying pan if she pushes it out any further, “it’s just that I wanted to talk to somebody who would understand.”
“Oh yeah,” Sophie squeaked, pouring herself an orange juice from the fridge and keeping her back to them, “about what?”
“That gorgeous guy that I was talking to at work. I’m disgusted in him. Sophie?” she twisted in her seat and stretched her eyes wide - all for impact. “You won’t believe what he does for a living?”
Sophie turned and stared her in the eye. “What?”
“He’s only,” Jen began to whimper, straining her facial muscles until fake tears appeared in her eyes, “he’s only... a.... a..... drug dealer!”
Sophie threw back her head and laughed.
Rob wasn’t sure whether it was genuine or fake.
But he wasn’t about to find out. In his experience, when women laughed at something that clearly wasn’t funny - it meant only one thing.
They were either mad-in-the-head - as in bonkers, or they were mad as in furious!
He scraped back his chair on th e tiled floor, kissed Sophie on the cheek, touched Jen on the shoulder and made for the front door.
Super-fast.

*

As he walked home he was annoyed at himself for letting Jennifer cajole him into going around for a chat. In all honesty he’d only agreed to it in the hope that Sophie would be there too. It was a perfect excuse to call in! And there was the added bonus that Sophie would think he was fantastic - being there to listen to her sister’s tales of woe. How wrong he’d been! Her sister was scary and nothing like his best-girl Sophie. He’d been plucking up the courage to ask her to go to see the Christmas lights being turned on at Regent’s Street next week. He knew she loved kiddy things like that and he’d heard that David Beckham was being rumoured to ‘press the button’. She’d joked many times about how he could press her button anytime, and so he’d thought it humorously apt.
The huge Christmas tree was going up in Trafalgar Square too and he wanted to make this Christmas the one that he finally spent with a woman that he had warm feelings for. But how to tell her? She’d spent the best part of the year confiding in him about how she thought all these men had ulterior motives, so how to make her trust him?
And what was he going to say to make her realise how much he liked her?
After hearing all the chat up lines that she’d been exposed to over the last few months, any line now sounded cheap and seedy.
But he had to act fast.
The Christmas lights weren’t going to wait for him.


Chapter Forty Five
Chapter Forty Seven

Pulling Power #18

There's nothing like the thoughts that it's all pre-meditated.

How to make somebody feel like crap?

These guys are pure wickedness...




Send em in to Pulling Power at singlesophieregan@yahoo.co.uk

Chapter Forty Five - My Cartoon Life

I should feel great, but I don’t. I feel depressed and grey. Kind of like the weather. I should wake up every morning like Jennifer does. She’s relentlessly straight into the shower, exfoliating her entire body in preparation for yet another 6 minutes under the sunbed and then in front of the mirror, perfecting her hair for the best part of half an hour with the straighteners. It isn’t helping that she’s got a part time job in the sunbed shop. It’s made her even more image conscious and it’s going to be tough, confronting her and telling her she’s starting to look like Donatella Versace, but it’s going to have to happen soon. Sadly, her presence is having a profoundly negative effect on me and I feel like I did when we were children – as if I’m constantly baulking in her shadow. And to think that she’d came here as a rescue mission! I’d forced myself to be so giving at a time when I really hadn’t wanted to, and now I feel worse than ever. I’m bored and pissed off, opening my front door every morning to charcoal clouds and then rain, which only frizzes my partly straightened hair anyway – so what IS the point? I feel as though I’m living two lives. The life I feel stuck in at the moment is the downtrodden and tired life where I want to move to the country – preferably somewhere hot and exotic like Western Australia – and be hopelessly in love with a macho sheep shearer where I could live comfortably in ripped jeans and white t-shirts. My figure would be fantastically toned due to the physical exertion of being a human sheep-dog and rounding up the sheep, coupled with a to-die-for tan. There’d be no need to choose to stay single or be bothered by men as my muscled hunk would completely love me for who I am and no other guy would dare approach me out of respect for him. And because they would know that our love was indestructible. But instead, I have this life. Schlepping to work, like a reprimanded teenager, every morning in the dark is no fun. I’ve given up trying to put on a plastic smile for the paparazzi and, probably because of this, they’ve become bored of me too. Ironically and bizarrely my quest to stay single has actually made me rather lonely! It’s made me realise that I have been lonely, all along. The insurgence of emails and bouquets was magnificent and overwhelming at first, but the gestures soon revealed themselves as shabby, flimsy bolstering of male ego. So I continue to trudge to Woman To Woman, slowly forcing my good old English ‘stiff-upper-lip’ as I prepare to laugh and charm my co-workers, the general public and the legions of media contacts that I now have as a result of this stupid idea. I trip off the train and march, head-down, along with the other suits as we scurry like robots and dissipate off to our office blocks. I feel like something from a Disney cartoon. We’d all be painted in greys and browns, our offices tall and imposing giants set against a backdrop of, hey, more grey! I’ dream of re-painting myself onto a scene where everybody has a vivid colour to depict a life outside of work. There’d be all the glorious gay guys flourishing in cerise pinks, the lesbian lovers reading magazines like Diva and checking funky sites like Biva as they hold hands and jump over those bizarre rainbows that lesbianism seems to be associated with. The children would be bright yellows and reds and blues and we would all smile as we breezed into work in technicolour. And of course, the sky would be permanently azure… OK, so that made the walk to work slightly more pleasant! Reality check kicks in immediately,
“Regan? Could you come straight in here please? Angela? Any chance of some coffees too? Oh, and could you ring and order some bagels please too, Angela?”
Dear God – why does Delaney do that? It’s the last thing I need – her rubbing AJ up the wrong way, and surely it could have waited until I’d taken off my coat? Time to shoe-horn on my smile and Miss-Happy-Go-Lucky-Personality. This is tedious!
I enter Delaney’s office and am shocked to see that there are two other people already in there. I smile, rabbit-in-the-headlights, at the two gorgeous men who both immediately stand and shake my hand firmly. Delaney chips in,
“Sophie? This is Darren Ellis and Ross Byrne. They’re from a media company and have a fabulous idea to work with us on Relationship Rehab. They’re setting up a website called Sophie Dilemma and they have some brilliant media ideas for us.”
Inwardly I’m groaning. Just when I thought I could hide under a rock for the duration of the winter months and let the days drift into months until this farce is all over! Now I have to change gear and rev myself up! Once again I paste on the cheeky grin,
“Oh, how interesting! OK,” I shuffle in my seat and blush. Darren is exceedingly handsome with his glistening blue eyes, shaved hair, perfect teeth and Ben Sherman shirt. How embarrassing! I can feel my neck and cheeks as they heat up and now even my eyes are hot! I bet he’s super-impressed with me! ‘Sophie Regan the legacy of independent women who choose to stay single!‘ What a joke. What a fool. Thankfully, Delaney breaks the silence but not before I notice her frowning slightly at me, a bemused ‘what the fuck’s going on with you? You’re like a beetroot!’ look sparking in her eyes.
“OK,guys. So tell Sophie what you’d like to do.” Before they can begin, she stands and opens her office door,
“Angela? Any word on those bagels?”
I turn to see AJ scowling as she looks up from her computer screen and half-mumbles,
“They’ll be here in 5 minutes.”
“Great!” Delaney sings and closes the door once again. “OK, Darren, you want to kick off?”
He looks at me and I feel a ping somewhere in my groin, as if my knicker-leg elastic has broken. Only I’m wearing my big knicks and know that the elastic is more than generous. The ping is purely down to Darren’s direct stare.
Just like when I used to look at Adrian.
Oh no, not again!
*
Jennifer adored living with Sophie again. It was just like when they were children, only better! Sophie was still the sensible one, tidying up as if it was her life’s work and being all domesticated and boring. But Jen figured that it was great - as long as Sophie insisted on keeping the house nice it simply gave her more time for herself. She was looking fantastic - better than she had done for years and she was convinced that this new lifestyle she’d conjured for herself was the complete raison d’etre. And talking of her linguistic skills, she’d met a gorgeous guy in the sunbed shop last week. He’d called in quickly between deals and she’d got chatting to him - after buying a few grams for herself. Sophie would go bonkers if she knew she was still sniffing the odd line here and there, but all the girls and the customers at TanFastic were all doing it, so she would look like a dried up old hag if she didn’t join in. Anyway, she knew instantly that he was not to be let walk out of her life. She’d got chatting to him and he’d asked her what her French was like. She bluffed and bullshitted and basically lied through her teeth as she’d inflated her basic ‘can I have a beer please’ and ‘do you speak English’ into a fluent bilingual talent. He’d gone on to rub his forehead as he’d told her that he’d been over in France to acquire some more ‘produce’ and had parked his car in a public car park only to return and find that somebody had hit it and caused over £12,000 of damage to his Range Rover Vogue V8. He’d laughed it off then, claiming that the money was a ‘drop in the ocean’, but on principle wanted to chase it with the insurance company. He’d parked beside the ticket machine and the surveillance cameras would have been directly aimed at his car too. Of course she hadn’t wanted to disappoint. She’d thought it slightly bizarre that a guy who had so much money around him was fretting over a paltry 12K, but it was evident that he was minted and if that meant that she had to pretend to speak French, then she was bloody well going to pretend she could!
She nodded and smiled at him, looking down at her gel nails which desperately needed filling in and decided at that moment that she was going to do whatever it took to get this man.


Chapter Forty Four
Chapter Forty Six

Chapter Forty Four - Full of IF's and BUTT's

The reality check of writing this week’s Relationship Rehab has shaken me. I’ve continued to read up on reasons WHY I’m choosing to stay single, mostly due to the fact that, in the light of Tamsin and Ade, I feel perpetually sick and disappointed. I found a website, which is stuffed with advice on how to stay single and be genuinely happy. It discusses how, rather to look for a soul mate, it’s more about having a healthy soul, to enjoy your relationship with yourself and to enjoy being with YOU. It suggests I should getting some good sleep, surround myself with a stable of close friends and to enjoy my work.
Not easy when my work IS all about an effort to try and enjoy my singleton life and ‘being happy’ in my skin. It would all be so much easier IF.
IF Ade wasn’t still dating Tamsin,
IF Jennifer wasn’t living with me and outrageously flirting with Rob every time he calls around,
IF Delaney wasn’t insisting on pushing me into the media spotlight,
IF my mother wasn’t getting married in a few weeks time,
IF I wasn’t suffering from Winter Blues
and,
IF I wasn’t asking myself some serious questions about how I feel about Rob.

*

Jennifer had initially said that publicising my ‘inadequacy’ wouldn’t help me find a decent man. Well, perhaps she was right. It’s helped me to attract a legion of male admirers and more male attention than I could shake a bottle of Viagra at, but I’m not sure how many are DECENT men. I caught Jen playing with my laptop last night and she was so animated and excited by the emails and messages that I’ve been sent and she’s already signed up to MSN and is twitching at the webcam, just dying to kick off some interaction with these strangers. I couldn’t help but notice that she’d gone into the bedroom and re-emerged with a startling low-cut t-shirt and some rather hot-chick red lipstick. I pretended to ignore her as I stared at Big Brother, but I was really watching from the corner of my eye as I scrutinised her wiggling in her seat and pouting towards the web cam and she giggled and played with her hair.
Ridiculous as it sounds, I felt like a gooseberry, so I made my excuses and went to bed.
I can only begin to imagine what she got up to in front of the camera after I’d gone.
But I’m going to click the ‘History’ icon when I get in from work and have a look at her MSN ‘friends’ and then I’ll have an idea what she’s doing and with who. After all, I need to check that she’s signing in as her and not me!

*

It had been nearly a month since Ade began dating Tam and he still kicked himself for his lack of courage. He was lying in his bed waiting for her to return from the bathroom. She was in a sexy mood and he took a deep breath as he listened to her tinkering in the bathroom with her toothbrush and perfume. Despite the fact that he was feeling particularly horny he knew that didn’t want to BE with Tamsin. But he wasn’t really sure how to tell her. She was a nice girl and pretty good in bed - if a little shy and unadventurous - he’d much rather be with a woman who wasn’t afraid of her body. He felt like shit, knowing how lousy he was being by hanging her on a thread, but he tried to stay positive by continuing to live in the hope that he’d patch things up with Sophie and that everything would fall into place. In the meantime, he could feel Tamsin falling for him. She’d begun to whimper and whisper the ‘L’ word during sex and there was nothing LIKE that word to swiftly made Ade lose his erection. It was those times that he really had to imagine that he was with Sophie. That bought it back quickly enough. But he knew that IF Tam had any inkling that he still had lusty thoughts about Sophie, he’d be alone again. As the thoughts of that shocked him into reality, he heard Tamsin close the bathroom door and he turned his head to watch her. As the streetlight shone in through the landing window he felt a slight twinge beneath the covers as he looked at her firm and rounded butt. Now THAT coupled with thoughts of Sophie were a dead cert for a promising night....


Chapter Forty Three
Chapter Forty Five

Pulling Power #17

A word from our elders.

Who said that true love was dead?




Send your love stories to Pulling Power at singlesophieregan@yahoo.co.uk