The Ex Factor

‘The one who took off his trousers and he was wearing Superman pants? Or the one who didn’t even have a bedroom? Honestly, he was living in an actual airing cupboard.’

‘I was thinking of Blubbing Ben, actually.’

‘Oh God, yes. Wait till you hear this, Marn.’ Ani launched into a story of a date she’d had recently, the punchline of which was ‘and then he spent the whole evening crying on my shoulder, and the worst bit was, it was a dry-clean-only top’.

Rosa shook her head over her ‘Brighton Rock and Roll’—peach schnapps, vodka, cream soda, a stick of actual rock to stir it. ‘I don’t know why you can’t just date someone nice, Ani.’

‘You sound like my mum. I’m trying to find someone nice—I date all the time. You guys don’t know what it’s like. I don’t want to put you off, Rosa, but if you decide to jump back into the water, well, online dating is like deliberately swimming into a big shoal of sharks.’

Marnie was nodding. ‘My friend Caty, do you remember her? The one who does reiki healing and has that weird little sausage dog? She was seeing this guy she met online, and it was all going really well, except he wouldn’t invite her to his place. He said his flatmates were always there, the place was a mess, he needed to clean up, blah blah. Then one day he says, fine, come round. So she goes, and it’s lovely. Like a really nice clean grown-up place. And the next morning they’re making waffles in the kitchen, and she’s in his shirt, just like in a romcom.’

‘With yoghurt?’ said Helen, transfixed despite herself by the image.

‘Yep. They are totally eating yoghurt. Probably he’s dabbed some on her chin and licked it off. Anyway, you can see where this is going.’

‘Oh no.’ Rosa buried her head in her hands.

‘Oh yes. So the door goes and it’s his wife. That’s right, she’s home early from her holiday. With the kids. So that’s internet dating,’ said Marnie grimly. ‘Every time you think it can’t get worse, you hit another rock bottom. A new low standard every time.’

‘It’s not all like that,’ Helen said. ‘I mean, I would know.’

‘Of course, I forgot you ran that dating site.’ No surprise—Helen never talked about her job. Because: more reasons.

‘How come none of us have ever used it? Maybe I should, now my husband’s left me for a teenager.’ Rosa was attacking her drink as if it had personally offended her.

Helen wished she hadn’t said anything. She usually succeeded in making her job sound so dull no one ever wanted to ask about it. ‘Um, well, it’s sort of a bit…niche.’

‘Trust me, Rosa, babe, you don’t want to go online,’ said Marnie, shaking her head. ‘No offence, Helz. I’m sure you do a great job. Rosa just needs to be eased in.’

‘None taken,’ she said, with huge relief. Mentioning her job, how stupid. That and Ed were two topics that needed to be avoided at all costs.

‘She’s right,’ said Ani, who was on her third ‘Why Hasn’t He Kahluaed?’ (Kahlua, pineapple juice, a dash of paprika.) ‘I went on Tinder, and I got chatting to this guy who seemed nice, so I asked him out, and he said could we just meet in a park so in case we didn’t like each other we could save money on drinks, and we met up and it was freezing and we walked round in the rain for half an hour and then he tried to shove his hand down my top.’

Helen no longer felt like drinking the rest of her ‘Sloe Dirty Orgasm’, a sloe-gin martini with an unfortunate splash of Bailey’s leaching through it. Across the table, Rosa was also looking crestfallen. ‘Sounds awful. Is there any point? I might just stay home and watch The Great British Bake Off, like the spinster I’m now inevitably to become.’

‘I’ve got a better idea.’ Marnie wiped the remains of her aubergine dip from her plate—as Ani pointed out, London food was more like Milupa every year. ‘Ladies—and sorry to lump you in, Rosa, babe—but am I right in thinking that what we have here are four totally single women?’

Helen hadn’t known Marnie’s romantic situation, was afraid to ask. And there was no need to usually—she would tell you herself, in Technicolor detail. ‘I guess so,’ she said cautiously, as Rosa slumped into her spicy coleslaw.

‘So why is it? Why are we all single? Look at us.’ Marnie spread her arms. Helen moved a glass out of her way. ‘We’re amazing, sassy women.’

‘That’s the problem,’ said Ani. ‘They don’t want sassy women.’

‘No,’ said Rosa gloomily. ‘They want twenty-year-olds who wear Miffy T-shirts to the office.’

Marnie said, ‘I bet that’s not true. You must all have one nice ex, who isn’t a total moron or douchebag.’

‘I’ve been with David since I was nineteen,’ said Rosa sadly. ‘I met him in a lecture, and then he showed me how to use the soup dispenser in the canteen. It was so romantic.’

Marnie’s gaze turned. ‘And you, Ani?’

‘Oh, I’ve dated loads of people, as you know. But I’m considering stopping it all and taking up stabbing myself in the eye with pencils instead.’

‘And were any of them nice?’

Ani shrugged. ‘A few were fine. Just no spark, you know. Nothing ever seems to get off the ground.’

‘Because she’s commitment-phobic,’ said Rosa, stabbing at her drink.

‘I’m not commitment-phobic! I’m just looking for something very specific.’

‘Which doesn’t exist. No one’s perfect, Ani.’

‘Well, I’m not giving up just yet. Believe me, when you handle as many divorce cases as I do, you want to get it right.’

Helen knew it was her turn next. She took a large bite of her burger, and a swill of ironic cocktail. ‘I don’t have any recent exes,’ she said, quickly. ‘I’ve sort of been off dating since you—since I last saw you. You know, keeping up with my busy schedule of Netflix and cleaning the bathroom.’

‘This whole time?’

That whole time, almost to the day. Deflect. ‘Well, more or less.’

Marnie wasn’t letting her off so easily. ‘But you could date if you wanted. You’re so pretty—isn’t she? And so nice.’ Ani and Rosa nodded agreement; Helen blushed into her cocktail. ‘See? And loads of boys have liked you. What about…’ Helen watched her friend mentally scroll through almost thirty years of history. ‘Donny Myers?’ she came up with, finally.

‘Oh for God’s sake. We were six!’

‘He asked you to marry him once, remember, with that note in assembly?’

‘Aw,’ said Rosa, sappily.

Helen held up her hands in disbelief. ‘Donnie Darko? You must be kidding me. Don’t you remember, he was the prime suspect when Hammy the Hamster went missing that time? And then no one would sit next to him at lunch for the whole rest of school?’

‘But apart from that, he was all right.’

‘Apart from suspected hamstercide? That’s like saying apart from those few hours, it was a lovely voyage on the Titanic.’

‘I’m sure I’m still friends with him on Facebook,’ said Marnie stoutly. ‘I could look him up. Don’t you want to meet someone?’

Ani shook her head. ‘We’ve tried. She doesn’t.’

‘She’s in a rut,’ said Rosa.

‘Hey, I like my rut,’ Helen said. ‘I’m thinking of getting it re-upholstered in fact. Maybe in a nice paisley.’ And she did like it—as ruts often were, it was very cosy and safe. Deflect, deflect. ‘What’s this all about, Marnie? Are you not dating anyone at the moment?’ If so, that was an unusual state of affairs. And hey, what about Ed? Why did you leave? What’s going on in your head?

Marnie sighed. ‘Oh, it’s a disaster out there. The last person I dated, Hamish was his name, totally gorgeous, seemed really into me, and then I go to meet him for our fourth date and he doesn’t even turn up.’

‘Hamish?’ Rosa frowned. ‘Were there not any hunky Latin lovers out there?’

‘Hmm?’ Marnie looked puzzled. ‘Oh! No, well, you know, there are lots of backpackers and that. Anyway, he won’t answer my emails or calls, just totally ghosts me.’