17October
I still cant shake the feeling that Im caught in a looping drama, the sort youd only see in a London West End play. Tonight, after a couple of pints at the local, Jack asked me to catch a film at the Empire Cinema in Camden. Id been looking forward to it all week, hoping it would be a proper firstdate popcorn, handholding, maybe a kiss when the lights dimmed.
The thing is, these days expectations are a moving target. Some girls are bold enough to slip a quick kiss in the back rows, eyes locked, the whole world narrowing to that one moment. Others, like me, prefer the classic route: watching the movie, fingers intertwined, and perhaps a goodbye at the doorstep of my flat on the way home.
Going to the cinema with a bloke, especially when hes the one who invited me, automatically makes you the girlfriend in everyones mind, at least until proven otherwise. Thats why I was so startled when, halfway through the opening credits, a girl Id never seen before swooped in, grabbed Jacks arm, and shouted, Harry, whos this? Why are you holding her hand? Ive been losing sleep worrying youve vanished! The whole crowd could have heard her.
If Id been any other girl, Id have blushed, maybe retreated to the aisle, or even yelled, Oh, you two are seeing each other at the same time? and stormed out, clicking my heels on the polished floor. Emily that was my name belongs to the more daring lot, but before I could even register a response, Jack snapped, his face darkening. I told you to leave. Im done with this. Emily, lets go.
He grabbed my arm and ushered me toward the correct screen. In his eyes, the situation was resolved: the other girl was out, the relationship was back on track or so he claimed. I wanted to believe him, but the unease lingered like a cheap cologne.
I decided to keep the conversation about the intruder for after the film. No point airing grievances in front of strangers; besides, Jack had paid for the tickets, and we deserved to enjoy the film without turning it into an interrogation. Once the credits rolled and we stepped out into the softly lit streets toward the park by my flat, the subject resurfaced.
I hope you didnt take anything the wrong way, Jack said, his tone apologetic. I dont usually collect crazy girls; my friends and family are solid. This one just slipped into the picture.
For me, the idea of crazy was a raw nerve. My previous relationship had collapsed because his mother and sister never accepted him. So whenever Jack could, he tried to prove I had nothing to fear.
What exactly happened? I asked, genuinely curious now.
We were dating, or at least I thought we were, he admitted. Its that sort of thing where you hang out, hold hands, kiss, and she calls me sweetheart and kitty when were alone. Then she invites me over to fix her computer, only to claim the PCs gone to the countryside with her brother, and suggests we watch a DVD together instead.
Someone still uses DVDs? I laughed, surprised. But I realized he was hinting at a more subtle invitation a pretext to get me alone in her flat, where no one else was home. I imagined a dim livingroom, a silk dressing gown, lace stockings, heartshaped candles, a bottle of red, and a film rated 18+. The scenario felt like a scene from a lurid romance novel.
Jack went on, describing how hed sat on the couch, the mood set, she settled beside him, and they began to kiss. Hed reached for her dress when she suddenly screamed, What are you doing? Im not like this! What do you think Im?! and slammed the door, threatening to call the police.
Id have bolted out of there, I muttered, picturing myself sprinting down the hallway.
He nodded. I did exactly that. I slipped on my shoes, heard her say it was over, and left.
The next morning, my phone buzzed with a message from the other girl lets call her Claire. She wrote as if nothing had happened, asking why I hadnt called, why Id vanished. I ignored her. Why would I bother with drama? I thought. Im not looking for a project where I have to chase after every woman who thinks Im a prize.
Claire tried to argue that she was waiting for me to win her over, to shower her with gifts, to be the hero she deserved. I scoffed at the outdated notion of winning a woman. In todays world, consent is king, and any yes must be genuine. Anything else is a breach of the Equality Act.
Later that week, while walking home from university, I was approached by a familiar face a former classmate, Lily. Shed heard the whole saga and was quick to judge.
Emily, you really messed up. He was taken, and you swooped in, she sniffed.
I tried to explain, He told me he was free, Lily. He even asked me to stay out of his life.
She retorted, Youre just another one of his exes, trying to claim him back. Hes got a dad in the police, you know. She waved a hand, as if that were an excuse for me to disappear.
She was right about one thing: Jacks father is a police sergeant stationed in Manchester, and that was my easiest line to get out of her persistent accusations. I could have fought, even thrown a punch, but that would have only deepened the mess for everyone involved.
In the end, Lilys anger faded when she saw a photo of the sergeant on Jacks social media. She muttered something about crooks under her breath and walked away, leaving Jack alone with his problems. He later told me, with a sigh, that Lily had stopped messaging him from that point on.
I told Jack my side of the story, just so he knew where I stood. No judgment, just facts.
Now, as I sit by my kitchen window, the rain tapping against the panes, I wonder what will become of all this. Perhaps Jack will find someone more suited to his whimsa selfabsorbed man who knows how to pull the strings in a kitchen like a chef in a reality show. Or maybe Ill move on, find a proper gentleman who respects boundaries and shares a proper cuppa instead of a cocktail of drama.
Life feels a bit like a badly scripted soap opera these days, but Im learning that the best way to survive is to keep my head down, my tea hot, and my expectations realistic. Whatever happens, Ill keep writing, keep observing, and keep hoping that the next chapter will be a little less chaotic.
Emily.
