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EIGHTEEN

Mr Full of Himself & Mr Beard

Saturday, 1 June, 1.30pm

Brunch Bunch today. Grace came for the first time since her surgery. She was quiet and slightly droopy at the shoulders. She’d gone back to work this week but couldn’t cope, so she’s having more time off. I told her about the mix-up with the two Anthonys and that made her laugh, and wince from the scars. I’ll arrange something nice for us to do together when she’s feeling better.

Leila asked Grace about Monte Carlo. She’s planning a surprise holiday for her wedding anniversary in October. Oh Leila, if only you knew.

Monday, 3 June, 11.30pm

Rubbish Ladybird date tonight. Mr Full of Himself went on and on about how he was the top salesman in his company, got a massive bonus – small dick? – and he has a Porsche – small dick? – and he’s going on holiday to a five-star hotel in the Bahamas – small dick? I wasn’t impressed and won’t be sizing up his dick any time soon.

Tuesday, 4 June, 11.30pm

Project Toilet is on hold. They’re going back to Chile for a while. Boo.

Wednesday, 5 June, 11.30pm

Date with Mr Beard at The Diner tonight. He ate a giant stacked burger, chips, onion rings, sweet potato fries, and a side of pancakes with cream, while his tongue constantly searched around his beard for escaped crumbs. I was mesmerised and repulsed. THEN, although I’d only had a skinny burger, he wanted to split the bill in half. No way.

Thursday, 6 June, 11.30pm

Ace called. I don’t usually get a call when he’s away. He sounded fed up and said he wasn’t sure if he enjoyed his job and the travelling anymore. He’s a bit young to retire but he’s thinking about it.

Friday, 7 June, 11.30pm

Izzy texted this morning. She was panicking about going to her friend Matilda’s wedding tomorrow and pleaded with me to go as her plus one. Michael is going to be there, and she doesn’t want to be Izzy-no-mates when he’s bringing his new girlfriend. I was reluctant at first as I won’t know anyone but decided to go for Izzy’s sake, though I do think she should be taking a pretend boyfriend, like in a romcom, instead of a middle-aged pal.

Thinking about her situation reminded me of what it was like for me in my forties after things went wrong with James and I was single again. I dreaded going to weddings. I was always pleased for my friends and hoped that their marriages didn’t end up in divorce like mine, but each wedding was a reminder that I’d failed at the game of love and failed at my marriage. James was the love of my life, and I remember thinking I was going to be blessed with happily ever after, but life had other plans for me. No viable eggs meant no babies, and eventually, no James. I was faulty goods. I’ve never understood how he could leave like that. Sometimes, it still hurts twenty-odd years later. Get a grip, Sophia. No point in looking back. The future is bright.