I’m still nursing my oversweet prosecco when I suddenly realise that I’ve been thinking about this entirely the wrong way. It isn’t about finding someone who findsherattractive. It’s all aboutherfalling in love.
Which is fine. Easy. I know who I’m looking for: her perfect romance hero. Except, in practice, how the hell am I going to manage to find that person?
I mean, what’s her type? How can I find that out? Can I somehow wangle an invitation to meet her friends and ask them? No. Clearly not.
I down the rest of the prosecco in preparation for leaving, and then wonder why I did that. I could have just left it and had less of an aftertaste. I need to eat something salty (and not those nuts) to clear the sugary sensation.
My mind continues to whir on the subject of the challenge as I make my way through the bar and out of the hotel.
I know that I’m not going to lose the challenge, because Freya cannot possibly convince me that I’m never going to find lasting love. I mean, romance isn’t for me right now, because I did not enjoy my divorce and one of the reasons that our marriage fell apart (I think) is that I was working too hard, which I’m still doing. Also, as my parents get older, I need to help them more with my brother, who was seriously injured a few years ago in an accident and can’t live alone, and not every woman (certainly not my ex-wife) is up for that, plus again it means I’m even busier. So I’m not currently ready to begin serious dating again.I will be one day, however, I’m sure. And there is no reason that romance will not then turn into lasting love. Freya cannot convince me otherwise.
Freya. I really don’t want to have to spend too much time talking to her but I would very much enjoy beating her. I do not want to draw with her.
I step outside the hotel and nod a thanks when a doorman asks if I want a cab. Yes I do, sinceWake Up Britainare paying. Kind of the least they can do when they’re subjecting us to this torture.
How am I going to find love for Freya? Maybe I can introduce her to my single male friends and colleagues. I might – probably will – also need to go down the Tinder route. Although… how? Can I sign up for it on her behalf? I mean, obviously Ican, but is that legal? As a fairly high-profile lawyer, I really can’t be doing illegal stuff, however minor.
‘Nice evening?’ the taxi driver asks me. ‘It’s fancy in there.’
‘Yes, it is,’ I agree politely. ‘And yes, great evening, thanks.’ Shit evening actually.
I continue to think about the challenge as we make small talk, until I realise something. I think that – just like some of her readers – Freya’s fallen in love with her own romantic protagonists to such an extent that no-one in real life matches up.
Okay, so all good: I’m going to win this stupid challenge. I just need to find the right romantic hero personified and introduce her to him. And – brainwave – I just need to read one of Freya’s books, get to know the kind of heroes she’s created.
And then find a similar man.
I’m going to win.
I decide that I’d like to get the book out of the way as soon as possible so it isn’t hanging over me, so I download her most recent one as soon as I get home. As I buy it, I wonder what proportion of the money will go to Freya. Probably not that much, but any amount is too much, as a matter of principle. I’m paying good money to read a book in a genre of which I thoroughly disapprove, written by a woman who really annoys me. It doesn’t feel like money well spent.
She’s dedicated the book to her friend Lizzie, ‘who’s always there for me’. Yeah, whatever. Does Lizzie even exist, given that the ‘I believe in love’ persona that Freya created for herself was fake?
I begin the first page with great reluctance. I’mgutted, frankly, when a laugh is surprised out of me within the first paragraph. A great first paragraph does not a great book make, however.
Okay, it’s actually, as it turns out, a great firstpage, insomuch as from my perspective at least it’s very well written, it’s made me laugh and I do actually want to read on. Just to see exactly how the two main protagonists are going to meet.
When I get to the end of the first chapter, I read on again. I’ve got to know the female protagonist, and, if I’m honest, I like her. But that’s not why I’m reading this book. It’s the male protagonist I want to get to know. We’ve met him, but only through the eyes of the female protagonist. It would be nice to know whathe’sthinking.
By the end of the second chapter, which is written from the male protagonist’s perspective, I’m feeling a little gloomy. He’s great. I really like him. He’sreallygreat.
I’m so engrossed in the story that I don’t do any of the work I needed to get through this evening; I just carry on reading, untilwaypast the time I should have gone to sleep, until I’ve finished the story.
I love the ending. I love the heroine. And Ireallylove the hero. I mean, I don’t usually go for men but he’ssogreat I think I’m almost in love with him myself. He’s tall, dark and handsome (okay, so he’s a walking cliché, but I didn’t notice that while I was reading him). He’s funny. He’s a little arrogant and a little hard-hearted to start off with, but in a very understandable way, and underneath he has a huge heart of gold. There’snothinghe wouldn’t do for the heroine. Or his family. Or his friends. Or anyone, frankly.
Yep, okay, so it doesn’tmatterthat he’s so great. I just need to find someone equally perfect for Freya. There clearlyaregreat men out there. Like a lot of my male friends, so no problem. Her hero’s a chef, and I don’t know a lot of chefs, but that’s fine. Freya’s obviously creative, being a writer. And chefs are obviously creative and artistic. So that’s the kind of man I need to find for her. Notspecificallya chef. Really no problem. I do have three months after all. I don’t needhimto fall in love withher. I just needherto fall in love.
It really annoys me that I feel a twinge of guilt – bigger than a twinge actually; a large pang – at the thought of somehow causing someone to fall in love with someone who isn’t interested in them. It’s ridiculous having to feel guilty about a situation that I did not in any way cause.
She’ll be fine, I tell myself firmly. It doesn’t seemthatlikely, if I’m honest, that I can tempt her to fall in love with someone, but if Ido, it’s only what I’ve been asked to do, and she knows that.
I don’t hear from Freya for a couple of days, and begin to hope that she’s so horrified by the entire challenge that she’s just pretending it isn’t happening and isn’t going to do anything about it. By late afternoon on Friday, I’m pretty sure that I’m never going to hear from her again.
And then, very disappointingly, just out of a meeting with a potential client so unreasonable that I fully sympathise with his soon-to-be ex-wife and am strongly considering refusing to act for him, I get a message from her:
I have a plan. Bit of a two birds one stone: forced proximity and literal blind date.
I have no idea what she’s talking about. Is this message even for me? Then I get another one:
