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‘I don’t know. She had a key, and she introduced herself to me as Josh’s girlfriend, so she’s obviously got her talons into him. Have you heard anything from him since Christmas?’
‘Not a thing.’
‘What a wanker.’
‘Yup.’
‘Listen, Charley, I don’t know if it’s too soon to start talking about this or not, but have you thought about how you’re going to get back on the horse, so to speak?’
‘In terms of boyfriends?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m really not that fussed at the moment, Mads. I’ve got the holiday coming up, and then I’m moving into the flat. I think I just want a bit of time to be me before I get anyone else involved.’
‘Fair enough. Let me know when you’re ready to take the plunge, and we’ll talk apps.’
Mads seems to have worked her way through most of the major dating apps over the years I’ve known her. She gets plenty of interest, but the lucky few who have made it beyond the first date have found themselves being given their marching orders before long. There was one guy, Mark, who looked promising, but even he only lasted for a couple of months before Mads declared that he was ‘becoming a bit needy’ and sent him on his way. She’s also very territorial about her flat and has a firm rule that none of her boyfriends are allowed to stay the night, although she’s quite happy to stay over with them. I asked her about it once, and she told me that letting someone stay over would lead to ‘man stuff in the bathroom. Once that happens, they start seeing my flat as part of their territory and, before you know it, they’re coming and going like they own the place, leaving their pants on the floor and you’re doing their laundry. Ugh. My flat is my sanctuary, and it’s staying that way.’
I’m not sure about the whole online dating thing. I’ve never done it, obviously, but I’ve heard plenty of tales from Mads and other friends about what it’s like. From what I’ve heard, you spend ages creating a profile and trying to take a picture of yourself that doesn’t make you look like you just escaped from Broadmoor, you put it online, and then you get contacted by loads of people you wouldn’t go near in real life. ‘Hi, darlin’, my name’s Ralph and I’m your dream date. Don’t worry about the obvious mark where my wedding ring normally sits, let me send you a few dick pics to get you in the mood,’ or ‘Hi, I’m Dave. I’ve never had a girlfriend but I watch lots of porn and you look like you’re up for it. How are you with large vegetables?’ or even ‘Hi, I’m Roger. My profile picture is of a good-looking bloke your age, but I’m actually seventy-two, bald and twenty-three stone.’ Then there are the ones who appear to be reasonable prospects, and you spend hours messaging back and forth, only for them to disappear without a trace, leaving you wondering what you said wrong to make them ‘ghost’ you. Frankly, it sounds exhausting.
Mads interrupts my reverie. ‘I know! What about a vibrator to keep you company while you’re single? We could pop into Ann Summers after this. It’ll be a fun way to finish our shopping trip.’
‘Are you out of your mind?’ I ask her incredulously. ‘Apart from the fact that I think I’d be far too embarrassed to use it, I’m living with my parents for Christ’s sake! Can you imagine if one of them walked past my bedroom and heard it buzzing or, God forbid, found it?’
‘Charley, you’re an adult woman and, last time I checked, you hadn’t taken any vows of chastity. For all you know, your mum has one.’
‘Do you have any idea how much I don’t want that image in my head?’
Mads is undeterred. ‘Also, there are some very quiet ones that your parents wouldn’t hear even if they had their ears pressed against the door. You don’t want your vagina to shrivel up from lack of use, do you?’
‘You know that’s not an actual thing, right?’
‘Are you sure? You’re willing to take that risk?’
‘Yes. I really don’t want a vibrator, thanks. Ask me again in six months, when I may be climbing the walls with sheer sexual frustration, but for now I’m fine.’
‘OK. I guess you’ve always got your toothbrush in case of emergency.’
‘Sorry, WHAT?’
‘Oh, come on! Don’t tell me you’ve never considered the sexual potential of an electric toothbrush. When I was at school nearly all the girls had them, and I’m certain it wasn’t because they were hugely into dental hygiene.’
‘Oh, Mads – eeuww!’
‘Well, you’ve got to get your pleasures where you can when you’re a hormonal adolescent. We weren’t all lucky enough to go to co-educational schools like you, you know. At my school, your choices were limited to RSI, the toothbrush or rampant lesbianism. I’m sure boarding schools are some sort of mad social experiment dreamed up by a psychopath. Lock up six hundred sexually frustrated girls for five years and see what happens.’
She takes another bite of carrot cake. ‘Didn’t Josh ever suggest getting one, you know, to spice things up a bit?’
‘God, no. Josh’s idea of adventure was anything that deviated from the missionary position. I guess we found what worked for us and kept to that.’
‘I see. Poor Scarlett.’ She grins mischievously. ‘Do you remember Adam?’
‘Vaguely. Was he the tall, geeky one you went out with early last year?’ An image of a fair-haired guy with glasses, wearing a white cable-knit jumper and black jeans comes to my mind. He must have lasted long enough for me to actually meet him.
‘He bought me this rabbit vibrator – you know – the ones with the ears to stimulate your clitoris? He was desperate to try it. I tell you, Charley, the thing was massive – you could probably use it to spit-roast someone. Anyway, it was awful, like being attacked by a road-drill. It was definitely the death knell for him and me. The egg was fun though – I’ve still got that.’
‘The egg? Do I want to know?’
