A. L. Michael - My So-Called (Love) Life

‘Actually, I was thinking that sounds like a wonderful way to live. No obligations, no responsibilities except your own happiness. I like it, I think I’m going to steal it. How’s it working out for you?’

Ollie’s mouth twitched. ‘A little lonely,’ he admitted. ‘Women seem to think it’s me being a typical male – I won’t go see a chick flick with them if it’s not what I want to do, but that’s not really what it’s about. I don’t mind compromise, I just won’t sacrifice what I care about.’

Tig watched his face change, how he looked sad, indignant, and, yes, lonely. Someone had screwed him, obviously, but who was she to talk? And she certainly wasn’t at the point of prodding at someone else’s wounds, not yet anyway.

‘So you’ve got nothing against chick flicks?’

‘If anything, they are a weapon in my arsenal of tricks to get women to let me into their knickers,’ Ollie grinned. ‘I’m a sensitive guy.’

‘Like fuck,’ she snorted, and watched as muscles in his forearms moved. The guy was a machine, perfectly tuned. Sure, he seemed nice enough, but this was not a guy who cried, or whined when you went out with your friends, or made you feel guilty about things. Ollie was clearly a man.

‘I’m sensitive! I’m very good at feelings –- I knew what you needed this evening, didn’t I?’

‘Wine and cake? Yes, you’re a mind reader.’ She rolled her eyes.

‘I’m a fixer,’ he shrugged. ‘I knew what you needed tonight, and I know what you need now.’

‘Let me guess.’ She put on her shocked voice. ‘It’s to go home with you tonight and put on a chick flick, right?’

‘Ooh, look who got all defensive when she thinks someone’s trying to get into her panties,’ he snorted. ‘I’m not hitting on you. I’m offering to help you.’

‘With your dick,’ she snorted, almost itching for an argument. Stop punishing random men, Tigerlily, she thought to herself, shaking her head.

‘Hey New Guy! Little help?’ Anna at the bar called over, and he nodded, signalling to Tig that he’d be back in a minute.

She really needed to stop being so insane. Really. The guy was trying to be nice, as far as she could tell. He’d been in the same situation as her. He knew what it was like to suddenly be an adult and have no idea how to do any of the things you’re meant to know how to do as an adult. Like have a conversation with someone who wants to sleep with you.

This guy could teach me things , she thought, and then blacked out all the images her brain sent her way in response to that idea. He could teach her lots of things, lots of really bad things. But the point was, Ollie had survived. He’d been married, and he’d learnt how to date, and here he was, living his life on his own terms. She should be like that.

Her head hurt just thinking about it. She looked down at the invitation again, and reached up to undo her braid, gently rubbing the roots of her red hair with her fingertips, closing her eyes as it stung with relief. It was like every uptight bit of her sat in her hair, creeping down her neck muscles. She needed to relax.

And what was he asking of her? Nothing, as far as she could tell. He was offering advice. Maybe suggesting they hang out. He could be her Mr Miyagi, show her the wax-on, wax-off of the heart.

That was the saddest thing, she thought – that she didn’t know how to trust men anymore. She couldn’t read the signals, the intentions. She’d spent so long being sweet, chubby Lily with all the boy mates that the minute she got confident and Darren left, she was just … shell-shocked.

Matt had been the main one, one of their oldest friends, since secondary school. He was going to be the best man at their wedding. When he found out Darren had ended it, he’d been so sweet, all those text messages letting her know he was still her friend, he was still there for her, that things between them hadn’t changed. He’d come round, with wine and Chinese food and let her cry on him for an hour … and then put his hand down her top and tried to kiss her. She supposed she should have felt flattered, but really she just felt sick. The rest of the lads had turned on her after that, calling her a prick tease, thinking she was too good for them since she’d become a ‘skinny bitch’. She didn’t know how getting healthy and getting dumped made her the bad guy. And now Darren was doing it all over again. She downed the rest of the wine, and put her head on the table, so very tired of everything.

She needed a change. No more Misery Dinners. No more Darren. No more anger and bitterness. She had to let a little light in. After a night of swearing and violently vomiting up sambuca, obviously.

‘I was thinking we might be the answer to each other’s problems.’ Ollie reappeared and sat down opposite her. She slowly lifted her head off the table, and opened one blurry eye to look at him.

‘Owls blat?’

‘What?’

Tig took a deep breath and tried again, enunciating clearly. ‘How’s that?’

‘Well,’ Ollie leaned in, hands moving all over the place, ‘you need a nice, non-grabby fella to lead you into the dating world, show you the ropes, right?’

Tig shrugged.

‘And I need someone to stop my crazy neighbour from trying to get into my pants. Or wearing my pants. Or rolling around in a big pile of my pants.’ Ollie shook the image away. ‘You could help with that.’

‘You want me to beat a bitch up?’ Tig frowned, slurring slightly. ‘I mean, I could. I kick-box a lot and I could really do with releasing my aggression right now but I don’t think it’s a good idea, Ollie, really.’ She patted his wrist and smiled. ‘I’m sorry.’

He seemed to be visibly asking for patience, or mercy, or counting to ten, but when he looked at her his eyes were crinkled at the edges and he was smirking.

‘I wasn’t asking you to beat her up , Drunky McDrunkerson, but it’s good to know you have my back. I just meant, you need a fake boyfriend, I need a fake girlfriend, so … how about it?’

Tig wrinkled her nose. ‘Well, that’s in my top three most romantic invitations. Just behind “Who’s a sexy monkey?” and “Roll over”. Cheers, though.’ Tig delicately moved as if to grab her coat, leaning heavily on the table.

‘I’m not trying to shag you! I’m trying to be your friend!’ Ollie said, standing as well.

Tig sobered up quite a bit in that moment. ‘That’s what they all say. They’re your mate, and they’re your fiance’s mate, and then you lose weight, and your fiance dumps you, and all the guys who used to be your friend only care about fucking you. So excuse me if I don’t believe the random guy I met this evening about his intentions. I knew those guys for ten years, and they still screwed me over.’

Tig desperately wanted to make a smooth exit, frantically pushing her arm into the armhole of her coat, which seemed to have tangled in on itself. She finally pushed her arm through, and managed to hit Ollie in the nose.

‘Oh. my God! I’m so sorry!’

Ollie blinked a few times, hand over his face. ‘It’s fine. You really owe me a fake date now, though. What with the assault and everything.’

Tig was exhausted of all this. All she wanted was to get outside, grab a cab, eat a greasy burger and cry very quietly in her room at home. In Ame’s home.

‘Tell me why I should even be bothered considering this,’ she said blankly. ‘You have five minutes. I’m drunk and upset and if I don’t eat a burger soon I’m going to hit someone.’

Ollie pressed his lips together. ‘Good to know what I’m getting into. Food important. Right.’ He took a deep breath, looking down at her with those fuzzy green eyes, all intense and earnest.