I can’t back down, despite an increasing sense of impending doom.
‘What is it precisely that you eejits want me to do?’ I sigh deliberately, emanating an air of boredom.
‘Here’s the deal. The next girl you go out with, you have to keep interested long enough to bring her to my wedding,’ James dares me.
‘That’s three months away!’ I can’t hide my shock. It’s a lot to ask of anyone, especially me. They know what I’m like. Either I’ll have to stay away from women until the week before or try to put up with the same one for months. Neither option is particularly appealing.
‘Exactly.’ Marcus snorts.
I’ve never dated the same girl for more than a week, a fact they’re all well aware of. I’m not a relationship type of guy. Never have been, never will be, and I certainly don’t pretend to be. My semi-functional family have long since given up any hope of me bringing a girl home.
‘He can’t do it. He isn’t capable.’ Marcus shakes his head, the low whistle that escapes his midline diastema pushes my buttons in an irritating manner that only he can achieve.
‘Does your snoring drive them away?’ James teases.
‘Do you wet the bed?’ Eddie chips in, apparently forgetting he’s meant to be on my side.
‘Can’t get it up?’ James bends his baby finger, emasculating me further.
‘Or do you still cry for your mamma in the night?’ Marcus hammers the final rusty nail into my coffin.
The guys are on a roll, it might be funny, if it weren’t me on the receiving end of it. Marcus’s last remark cuts close to the quick.
‘Fuck off, you mad bastards. It was Ollie Quinn that pissed in the fucking wardrobe the week we were in Edinburgh.’ I pray they’ll take the bait and head off in a different direction.
‘Yeah and considering that, even Ollie can keep a woman,’ James says, laughing as he remembers.
‘Actually, he can’t,’ Eddie informs us. ‘The Mrs gave him the p45 last month. Maybe he’ll be up for a few pints on Friday night? He might be ready to get back on the horse and I’m just the man to give him a leg up.’
The lads can feck off with their romantic notions, but if I play along for now, maybe they’ll forget in a day or two.
‘Fine. I’ll bring the next girl I date to your wedding.’ Anything to get them to shut up.
‘That doesn’t mean you don’t date anyone until the week before.’ Marcus is quick off the mark, snagging my plan.
In all honesty, I can’t wait three months, I’m horny as hell and looking for some female company ASAP. I’ll just have to be discreet about it for once.
‘Fine. But this little wager you insist on making better be worth my while. You morons know I don’t do relationships. If I bring the next girl I pick up to James’s wedding, I want your Audi, Marcus.’ I cross my arms over my chest and stare intently at him.
That Q7 has been his pride and joy since he first slid his fat arse into it four months ago, it’s his fourth baby. Never, in a trillion years, will he agree to a bet where he risks losing it.
‘You’ve got yourself a bet, man.’ He grins, sticks a hand out and shakes mine firmly. I mask my shock with a well-timed cough.
Either Marcus is exceptionally confident that I can’t keep a woman for three months, or he has a new car on order. I’d like to think it’s the latter but can’t be certain.
I tie the laces on my runners, scanning my mental black book for female acquaintances who might be convinced to play along. I’m competitively compelled to restore my reputation amongst the lads. Or I’ll never hear the end of it.
‘One more thing, buddy…’ James says, as we exit the changing rooms into the fresh air.
‘What?’
‘We get to pick her.’ My heart sinks.
