Six of Hearts
Page 12
Speaking of Jay, he’s currently camped out at the table by the glass sliding doors, a tonne of books and his laptop open in front of him as he researches God only knows what. Every once in a while I’ll let my eyes wander in his direction, and I’ll find him looking back at me pensively. Then he’ll smile and return his attention to his research. Other times he won’t be looking, and I’ll be unable to tear my eyes off him. He’s wearing a tight grey T-shirt that showcases his muscular arms perfectly, the toned lines of his shoulders.
As the day draws to a close, I start to get all nerved up for the seminar tomorrow. I have no idea what’s in store for me. I just hope Jay keeps his promise and behaves himself.
Morning comes, and I dress in a simple blue summer dress with some black heels. I’m not in the mood to put in my contacts, so I slip on my glasses instead. Arriving downstairs, I find that Jay has yet again made me breakfast, oat pancakes smothered with honey.
“You are paying rent, you know. You don’t have to make breakfast every morning to keep Dad sweet,” I say with a soft laugh.
“How do you know he’s the one I’m trying to keep sweet?” Jay replies with a flirty grin, waggling his eyebrows and taking a seat opposite me.
I stuff a forkful of pancake into my mouth so I don’t have to respond.
“How about we make a deal?” says Jay. “I’ll do breakfast every morning if you do dinner every evening. That way it’s even.”
I grin as I chew. “Okay, you’re on.”
About an hour later, we arrive at the Hilton for the seminar. The receptionist in the lobby directs us to a function room where there’s a big banner hanging over the entrance. It reads: Kick-start Your Love Life with Simon Silver.
We’re each given a goodie bag and then ushered inside. Two women standing in front of us keep peeking over their shoulders at Jay, giggling to one another.
“Your g*y act better be convincing,” I whisper to him. “Otherwise, I think you might have a swarm on your hands by the end of the day.”
“What are you going on about, Watson?” Jay asks, walking over to a water cooler to get a drink. I follow him.
“I’m going on about the fact that every woman in here has her eyes on you, and although that might sound appealing right now, it won’t be when we have a stampede on our hands,” I joke, though I’m also kind of serious. Today he’s wearing a midnight-blue shirt tucked into a pair of denim jeans, his svelte waist accentuated by a brown leather belt. The sight is more than a little appealing.
“Now, that would be interesting,” says Jay. He pauses for a second, hand on hip, then finishes with a camp, “Girlfriend.”
I put my hand over my eyes. “Oh, God. Please let me know when you’ve stopped doing that, whatever it is you’re doing.”
His deep chuckle moves closer to me and then his warm hand is on mine, pulling it away from my face. “Okay, I won’t do it again. I’ll just be one of those non-flaming gays.”
“I think that might be for the best.”
He continues laughing as he guides me to a seat about three rows from the front.
“Perhaps we should sit a little farther back,” I suggest. “I don’t want to be singled out to talk.”
“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” says Jay, pulling me down to sit.
A woman sitting alone two seats away keeps sneaking glances at us. It’s plainly obvious that Jay is about as homosexual as Gerard Butler in the movie 300. On second thought, no, I need to think of a better comparison. 300 was so excessively straight it was actually unconsciously super-gay.
A few minutes pass by, and the conference room begins to fill up. Soon there are hardly any seats left. It’s reassuring to me that I’m not the only woman out there who’s hopeless with men. I can even spot a few girls my age in attendance.
A blonde sits down on the other side of Jay, smiling demurely and giving him a quiet but interested, “Hello.”
I want to stab her with the complimentary pen provided in the goodie bag. Okay, I should probably calm down. Just because we’re housemates doesn’t mean I have any ownership over Jay. He’s a free agent. Free as a bird, really.
Now, there’s a depressing thought.
Rummaging through the aforementioned goodie bag, I pull out a pamphlet containing ten top tips for finding a date. I’m starting to skim through it when some hip modern music comes through the speakers and a well-dressed woman in her twenties walks onto the stage. She does a quick intro for the event and then says, “So, without further ado, I give you Simon Silver.”
Jay snorts next to me. “That can’t be his real name. He sounds like a pirate from a kids’ TV show.”
I suppress a laugh, because it’s sort of true.
“Yeah, well, not all of us were blessed with ultra-cool names like Jay Fields,” I tease, and his body goes slightly rigid. Did I say something wrong?
Focusing my attention back on the stage, I deduct that Simon’s probably in his mid-thirties, though it’s hard to tell because his hair has blond highlights and he’s sporting a seriously hard-core fake tan, the kind gotten through years and years of sun beds. He’s even wearing a diamond earring in one ear.
I hadn’t really done too much research into the event, so this is actually the first time I’m seeing the man in the flesh. I can’t say I’m impressed. In fact, I’m feeling that squirming sensation in my gut that tells me this could turn out to be a massive cringe-fest.
Nine
Simon Silver stops right in the middle of the stage, wearing a headset microphone. “Okay, let’s get straight to business,” he says in his Australian accent. “I want each of you to take a piece of paper and write down your top five essential attributes of an ideal partner.”
Women all around me start to rummage for their note pads and pens. After a moment of hesitation, I do the same. I have to try my hardest not to wince, because Jay’s sitting back in his chair, casually watching me. As I start to scribble down five traits, Jay angles his head to see what I’m writing. I cover the page with my hand so he can’t look.
“Shouldn’t you be writing, too?” I ask, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye.
“Don’t need to.” He smirks and taps his forehead. “I’ve got it all in here.”
I concentrate on my page again. So far I’ve got: funny, smart, protective, and motivated. Deciding to hell with it, I finish off the list with handsome.
“Have you all got your five traits?” Simon asks from the stage, and there are murmurings of “yes” from the audience. “Great,” he continues before setting his sights on an Asian woman in the front row. “Hello there, what’s your name?”
The woman stands up and puts her hand on her hip before answering, “Meesha.” She seems confident and sassy. If he’d singled me out like that, I’d probably have forgotten how to speak.
“All right, Meesha. Would you like to read your list out for everyone?”
Meesha picks up her piece of paper and, without any hesitation whatsoever, starts to read, “Wealthy, good-looking, strong, sexy, and a big dick.”
Simon chuckles, his bleached teeth glowing against his brown skin. “I take it you mean you want him to have a big dick rather than be a big dick.”
Meesha laughs uproariously. “Yes, yes, that’s what I meant.”
“Funny, sounds like she was describing the latter to me,” Jay whispers conspiratorially.
Sounds like she was describing you, I think. Although I have no clue if the “big dick” part is accurate.
Slumping back in my seat, I mutter to myself, “Remind me why I paid eighty euros for this?” I must have said it louder than I thought, because Simon Silver’s gaze lands on me.
“Hello! The brunette over there in the third row wearing blue, would you like to go next?”
Oh, God, no. It’s happening. I’m the singled-out singleton. Voice don’t fail me now.
“Not particularly,” I mumble.
“I’m sorry, could you speak up?”
I sit up straighter. “I’d rather not.”
“Oh, come on. We’re all friends here,” says Simon. “A lot of what we’re going to work on today will be about confidence building. And what better way than to do a bit of public speaking, eh?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t.” I rub anxiously at my neck, so roughly I’ve probably left a big red mark.
Just as Simon’s about to make further efforts to convince me, Jay comes to my rescue. “My friend’s a little shy. How about I go instead?”
All of a sudden Simon becomes aware that there’s a man in the audience. Shock, horror. And he doesn’t seem too pleased about it.
“But of course. Go ahead,” he says, a wary glint in his eye as he gestures for Jay to stand up.
Jay stands, his eyes on mine the entire time. I send him a silent look of thanks. “Okay, my ideal girl will be classy, funny, beautiful, sensitive, and she’ll have a great f**king rack.”
Furious giggling breaks out all around us, and I don’t know why, but I’m suddenly embarrassed. Apart from “sensitive,” I’m not sure if I’m any of those things.
Simon chuckles. “You do realise this is a seminar to teach women how to find men, right?”
Jay shrugs. “I must have missed the memo.”
“All right, well, a lot of what I teach will be useful for dating women, too. So you’re welcome to stay.”
“Gee whiz, thanks,” says Jay with no small amount of sarcasm before sitting back down in his seat. Simon gives him a hard look but then plasters a big smile on his face seconds later.
“Okay, the next part of this exercise requires you to take those five attributes, and I want you to focus mainly on the personal qualities rather than appearance, and turn them on yourself. I want you to question whether or not you possess the qualities you want your partner to have. If you don’t, then do you have a right to demand them of others? Furthermore, what can you do to cultivate those qualities in yourself?”
I look down at my list: funny, smart, protective, motivated, and handsome.
Jay nudges me with his shoulder. “How are you doing so far?”
“Well, I am the handsomest lady I know, so that’s a start.”
“And I’ve got a f**king awesome rack, but remember, we have to leave out anything related to appearance.”
“Right,” I reply, half laughing as I bite my lip nervously.
“So…?”
“I’m not very good with self-analysis.”
“Let me see.”
I hand him the list, and he looks it over. “Funny? Check. Smart? Check. Protective? Check. You’re always looking out for your dad. Motivated? Check again. I don’t know anyone who’d work a forty-hour week and then come home every evening to work more on making dresses.”
“Jay! I hate to admit it, but you’ve just made me quite like myself.”
He frowns. “Why wouldn’t you like yourself?”
“I don’t know. Self-loathing is kind of a human disease, isn’t it? I mean, I wouldn’t be here right now if I went around thinking I was flipping fantastic all the time. If I did that, I’d have no trouble picking up men.”
Jay’s about to say something when Simon starts to speak again. “Well, how did you all do?”
There are a number of grumblings from the audience. “Yeah, I get it. We’re all guilty of wanting the perfect person, but we never think to look inward and see how totally imperfect we are ourselves. But that’s okay. The key is to be constantly trying to improve. None of us are ever going to be perfect, so let’s cut that thought out right there. All we can really do is try to be the best version of ourselves that we can possibly be. We need to be comfortable in our own skin, and when we achieve that, we suddenly become more attractive to the opposite sex.
“Take me as an example. When I was younger, I had zero confidence. I might as well have been invisible to women. I didn’t believe in myself, and believing in yourself is the most important thing. One day I walked into a shop and bought a self-help book. It was nothing special, but it planted the seed in me to become what I am today.”
He continues with a few more anecdotes, though it feels more like an opportunity for him to waste a bit of time patting himself on the back. I don’t really come away with anything useful. Then we’re broken up into groups to role-play. One of us is the guy and the other is the girl, and we have to pretend we’ve just met in a bar or some similar environment. The one playing the girl has to take the lead in chatting the “guy” up. And yes, it’s just as painful as it sounds.
I get stuck doing it with a woman wearing a paisley shirt and a corduroy skirt, while Jay is practically bombarded with women who want to role-play with him. Surprise, surprise. In the end, though, he pairs up with the blonde who’d been sitting beside him.
I still have a slight urge to stab her with my pen.
I hardly get to speak to Jay for the entire two hours, and then it’s already lunchtime. I’m making my way out of the ladies’ room and heading toward the hotel restaurant when he appears from behind a column. He immediately links his arm through mine and leads me in the opposite direction.
“Hey, soooo, I was thinking we’d do lunch at the café across the street. Turns out you were right about the stampede.”
I burst into laughter that’s full of “I told you so’s.” “What happened?”
As the day draws to a close, I start to get all nerved up for the seminar tomorrow. I have no idea what’s in store for me. I just hope Jay keeps his promise and behaves himself.
Morning comes, and I dress in a simple blue summer dress with some black heels. I’m not in the mood to put in my contacts, so I slip on my glasses instead. Arriving downstairs, I find that Jay has yet again made me breakfast, oat pancakes smothered with honey.
“You are paying rent, you know. You don’t have to make breakfast every morning to keep Dad sweet,” I say with a soft laugh.
“How do you know he’s the one I’m trying to keep sweet?” Jay replies with a flirty grin, waggling his eyebrows and taking a seat opposite me.
I stuff a forkful of pancake into my mouth so I don’t have to respond.
“How about we make a deal?” says Jay. “I’ll do breakfast every morning if you do dinner every evening. That way it’s even.”
I grin as I chew. “Okay, you’re on.”
About an hour later, we arrive at the Hilton for the seminar. The receptionist in the lobby directs us to a function room where there’s a big banner hanging over the entrance. It reads: Kick-start Your Love Life with Simon Silver.
We’re each given a goodie bag and then ushered inside. Two women standing in front of us keep peeking over their shoulders at Jay, giggling to one another.
“Your g*y act better be convincing,” I whisper to him. “Otherwise, I think you might have a swarm on your hands by the end of the day.”
“What are you going on about, Watson?” Jay asks, walking over to a water cooler to get a drink. I follow him.
“I’m going on about the fact that every woman in here has her eyes on you, and although that might sound appealing right now, it won’t be when we have a stampede on our hands,” I joke, though I’m also kind of serious. Today he’s wearing a midnight-blue shirt tucked into a pair of denim jeans, his svelte waist accentuated by a brown leather belt. The sight is more than a little appealing.
“Now, that would be interesting,” says Jay. He pauses for a second, hand on hip, then finishes with a camp, “Girlfriend.”
I put my hand over my eyes. “Oh, God. Please let me know when you’ve stopped doing that, whatever it is you’re doing.”
His deep chuckle moves closer to me and then his warm hand is on mine, pulling it away from my face. “Okay, I won’t do it again. I’ll just be one of those non-flaming gays.”
“I think that might be for the best.”
He continues laughing as he guides me to a seat about three rows from the front.
“Perhaps we should sit a little farther back,” I suggest. “I don’t want to be singled out to talk.”
“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” says Jay, pulling me down to sit.
A woman sitting alone two seats away keeps sneaking glances at us. It’s plainly obvious that Jay is about as homosexual as Gerard Butler in the movie 300. On second thought, no, I need to think of a better comparison. 300 was so excessively straight it was actually unconsciously super-gay.
A few minutes pass by, and the conference room begins to fill up. Soon there are hardly any seats left. It’s reassuring to me that I’m not the only woman out there who’s hopeless with men. I can even spot a few girls my age in attendance.
A blonde sits down on the other side of Jay, smiling demurely and giving him a quiet but interested, “Hello.”
I want to stab her with the complimentary pen provided in the goodie bag. Okay, I should probably calm down. Just because we’re housemates doesn’t mean I have any ownership over Jay. He’s a free agent. Free as a bird, really.
Now, there’s a depressing thought.
Rummaging through the aforementioned goodie bag, I pull out a pamphlet containing ten top tips for finding a date. I’m starting to skim through it when some hip modern music comes through the speakers and a well-dressed woman in her twenties walks onto the stage. She does a quick intro for the event and then says, “So, without further ado, I give you Simon Silver.”
Jay snorts next to me. “That can’t be his real name. He sounds like a pirate from a kids’ TV show.”
I suppress a laugh, because it’s sort of true.
“Yeah, well, not all of us were blessed with ultra-cool names like Jay Fields,” I tease, and his body goes slightly rigid. Did I say something wrong?
Focusing my attention back on the stage, I deduct that Simon’s probably in his mid-thirties, though it’s hard to tell because his hair has blond highlights and he’s sporting a seriously hard-core fake tan, the kind gotten through years and years of sun beds. He’s even wearing a diamond earring in one ear.
I hadn’t really done too much research into the event, so this is actually the first time I’m seeing the man in the flesh. I can’t say I’m impressed. In fact, I’m feeling that squirming sensation in my gut that tells me this could turn out to be a massive cringe-fest.
Nine
Simon Silver stops right in the middle of the stage, wearing a headset microphone. “Okay, let’s get straight to business,” he says in his Australian accent. “I want each of you to take a piece of paper and write down your top five essential attributes of an ideal partner.”
Women all around me start to rummage for their note pads and pens. After a moment of hesitation, I do the same. I have to try my hardest not to wince, because Jay’s sitting back in his chair, casually watching me. As I start to scribble down five traits, Jay angles his head to see what I’m writing. I cover the page with my hand so he can’t look.
“Shouldn’t you be writing, too?” I ask, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye.
“Don’t need to.” He smirks and taps his forehead. “I’ve got it all in here.”
I concentrate on my page again. So far I’ve got: funny, smart, protective, and motivated. Deciding to hell with it, I finish off the list with handsome.
“Have you all got your five traits?” Simon asks from the stage, and there are murmurings of “yes” from the audience. “Great,” he continues before setting his sights on an Asian woman in the front row. “Hello there, what’s your name?”
The woman stands up and puts her hand on her hip before answering, “Meesha.” She seems confident and sassy. If he’d singled me out like that, I’d probably have forgotten how to speak.
“All right, Meesha. Would you like to read your list out for everyone?”
Meesha picks up her piece of paper and, without any hesitation whatsoever, starts to read, “Wealthy, good-looking, strong, sexy, and a big dick.”
Simon chuckles, his bleached teeth glowing against his brown skin. “I take it you mean you want him to have a big dick rather than be a big dick.”
Meesha laughs uproariously. “Yes, yes, that’s what I meant.”
“Funny, sounds like she was describing the latter to me,” Jay whispers conspiratorially.
Sounds like she was describing you, I think. Although I have no clue if the “big dick” part is accurate.
Slumping back in my seat, I mutter to myself, “Remind me why I paid eighty euros for this?” I must have said it louder than I thought, because Simon Silver’s gaze lands on me.
“Hello! The brunette over there in the third row wearing blue, would you like to go next?”
Oh, God, no. It’s happening. I’m the singled-out singleton. Voice don’t fail me now.
“Not particularly,” I mumble.
“I’m sorry, could you speak up?”
I sit up straighter. “I’d rather not.”
“Oh, come on. We’re all friends here,” says Simon. “A lot of what we’re going to work on today will be about confidence building. And what better way than to do a bit of public speaking, eh?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t.” I rub anxiously at my neck, so roughly I’ve probably left a big red mark.
Just as Simon’s about to make further efforts to convince me, Jay comes to my rescue. “My friend’s a little shy. How about I go instead?”
All of a sudden Simon becomes aware that there’s a man in the audience. Shock, horror. And he doesn’t seem too pleased about it.
“But of course. Go ahead,” he says, a wary glint in his eye as he gestures for Jay to stand up.
Jay stands, his eyes on mine the entire time. I send him a silent look of thanks. “Okay, my ideal girl will be classy, funny, beautiful, sensitive, and she’ll have a great f**king rack.”
Furious giggling breaks out all around us, and I don’t know why, but I’m suddenly embarrassed. Apart from “sensitive,” I’m not sure if I’m any of those things.
Simon chuckles. “You do realise this is a seminar to teach women how to find men, right?”
Jay shrugs. “I must have missed the memo.”
“All right, well, a lot of what I teach will be useful for dating women, too. So you’re welcome to stay.”
“Gee whiz, thanks,” says Jay with no small amount of sarcasm before sitting back down in his seat. Simon gives him a hard look but then plasters a big smile on his face seconds later.
“Okay, the next part of this exercise requires you to take those five attributes, and I want you to focus mainly on the personal qualities rather than appearance, and turn them on yourself. I want you to question whether or not you possess the qualities you want your partner to have. If you don’t, then do you have a right to demand them of others? Furthermore, what can you do to cultivate those qualities in yourself?”
I look down at my list: funny, smart, protective, motivated, and handsome.
Jay nudges me with his shoulder. “How are you doing so far?”
“Well, I am the handsomest lady I know, so that’s a start.”
“And I’ve got a f**king awesome rack, but remember, we have to leave out anything related to appearance.”
“Right,” I reply, half laughing as I bite my lip nervously.
“So…?”
“I’m not very good with self-analysis.”
“Let me see.”
I hand him the list, and he looks it over. “Funny? Check. Smart? Check. Protective? Check. You’re always looking out for your dad. Motivated? Check again. I don’t know anyone who’d work a forty-hour week and then come home every evening to work more on making dresses.”
“Jay! I hate to admit it, but you’ve just made me quite like myself.”
He frowns. “Why wouldn’t you like yourself?”
“I don’t know. Self-loathing is kind of a human disease, isn’t it? I mean, I wouldn’t be here right now if I went around thinking I was flipping fantastic all the time. If I did that, I’d have no trouble picking up men.”
Jay’s about to say something when Simon starts to speak again. “Well, how did you all do?”
There are a number of grumblings from the audience. “Yeah, I get it. We’re all guilty of wanting the perfect person, but we never think to look inward and see how totally imperfect we are ourselves. But that’s okay. The key is to be constantly trying to improve. None of us are ever going to be perfect, so let’s cut that thought out right there. All we can really do is try to be the best version of ourselves that we can possibly be. We need to be comfortable in our own skin, and when we achieve that, we suddenly become more attractive to the opposite sex.
“Take me as an example. When I was younger, I had zero confidence. I might as well have been invisible to women. I didn’t believe in myself, and believing in yourself is the most important thing. One day I walked into a shop and bought a self-help book. It was nothing special, but it planted the seed in me to become what I am today.”
He continues with a few more anecdotes, though it feels more like an opportunity for him to waste a bit of time patting himself on the back. I don’t really come away with anything useful. Then we’re broken up into groups to role-play. One of us is the guy and the other is the girl, and we have to pretend we’ve just met in a bar or some similar environment. The one playing the girl has to take the lead in chatting the “guy” up. And yes, it’s just as painful as it sounds.
I get stuck doing it with a woman wearing a paisley shirt and a corduroy skirt, while Jay is practically bombarded with women who want to role-play with him. Surprise, surprise. In the end, though, he pairs up with the blonde who’d been sitting beside him.
I still have a slight urge to stab her with my pen.
I hardly get to speak to Jay for the entire two hours, and then it’s already lunchtime. I’m making my way out of the ladies’ room and heading toward the hotel restaurant when he appears from behind a column. He immediately links his arm through mine and leads me in the opposite direction.
“Hey, soooo, I was thinking we’d do lunch at the café across the street. Turns out you were right about the stampede.”
I burst into laughter that’s full of “I told you so’s.” “What happened?”
