‘It really sucked,’ he says, and then laughs again. ‘I do not recommend breaking your leg as an adult.’
‘I’m sure kids would argue it also sucks for them.’ It pleases me that he finds this funny too. Okay, Warren, let’s keep cooking.
‘Yeah, but when you’re a kid, you’ve got someone at home all the time to look after you.’
‘And you didn’t have anyone to look after you?’
He sucks his teeth. ‘I did, but it didn’t work out, unfortunately.’
‘Or fortunately for me?’
He replies with a deep, slow chuckle. ‘Okay, girl. Anyway,I should be back to full strength later this year, so I’m hoping to get back to it.’
I want to make it clear what I’m here for. How do I word this carefully, in a way that won’t get cut out, or won’t be used to edit me into looking like an absolute bitch? The edit is the only thing I can’t totally control, so all I can do is aim for Strong Female Character, a woman who knows what she wants and is confident to ask for it, and hope that storyline is more compelling than Harridan.
‘Warren, can I ask something? I just want to understand what you’re looking for in a partner. As you have quite an intense career with a lot of travel, I imagine you’re looking for someone who has their own things going on too?’
‘Yeah,’ he says, and I can almost hear him nodding. ‘The personal support matters to me, as I’ve said, but I’d like to have a girlfriend, or wife I suppose, who has her own career and aims too.’
‘That’sverygood to hear.’
‘Oh yeah?’ There’s a smile in his words. ‘Tell me about it.’
This is it. If we end up together, this section will definitely be aired, so I have to get the wording right. Warren is the first man I feel I have any compatibility on paper with, and while there might be some other men tomorrow, I’m not holding out hope. I need to play my hand.
I take a deep breath. ‘Well, I am a chef by training, but at the moment I primarily make lifestyle and recipe content for socials. I want to grow my audience and find on-camera work. I want a partner who is going to support that, and if they wanted to be part of it, that would be lovely but there’s no pressure.’
He’s quiet for a moment and I feel my heart racing in my chest. ‘I think we’re on the same page, Dolly.’
We dive quickly into the stuff that I know will never beaired but which I consider extremely necessary: the political stuff. Even in a fake relationship, this matters. I wouldn’t befriend or remain friends with anyone who believed in things that I fundamentally disagree with, so the same standards apply to a fake fiancé. Yes, we both agree abortion is medical care. He’s supportive of LGBTQ+ rights – obviously that’s a same-same from me, the World’s Best Ally to the gays anddefinitelynot a card-carrying member. He was raised Christian but doesn’t really follow it, though his church was quite progressive. I’m a Christmas carol ceremony level of religious, aka I like the aesthetics more than the content.
While we’re not really supposed to talk about physical appearances, Warren and I do veer that way – he asks me if I’ve dated people of colour (yes) and I ask him his views on societal fatphobia because if this fake marriage is going to work he will absolutely get trolled online for marrying a fat woman.
Our conversation barrels along as we size each other up. I had started to lose hope that I’d find a pragmatic man, and yet here he is.
I swear I hear a couple of doors in the corridor close, which means they’ve given us more time. Another good sign that production think our chemistry is good television.
‘Can I ask what motivates you, Dolly?’ Warren asks, and I smile as he says my name, like it’s the sweetest thing in the world. ‘Like, you’re so ambitious, both of us are. But I want to know what drives you. Where does that ambition come from?’
Of course he wants to know if I’m just a gold-digger, or a gold-digger with a heart. I had really planned for my backstory to be a second date conversation, when I could be sure I could trust my prospective fiancé.
‘You can take your time,’ he says, and that makes me want to trust him.
I tell him about my mum, and our unconventional familylife. How I’ve been looking after her since I was a teenager, and how that changes your ambitions, drives and desires. I give him the Spark Notes version to get us started.
He is quiet as I speak but I feel his attention, the reverence to my truth.
I take a deep breath before the next bit, the politics we hadn’t got to yet. Bringing up benefits is always a risk because even people who consider themselves left wing can be very into bootstraps and self-reliance. ‘And the support we get from the state…’
‘Isneveranywhere near enough,’ he finishes with such utter disdain that I know he’s familiar with the panic that comes every time the government decides to reform the welfare system.
‘My Auntie Carol helps out a lot but she’s getting on herself,’ I say to camera with a cheeky wink. Soz, Auntie C.
There’s a long sigh from Warren, and for just a second I worry that I’ve misread his frustration. ‘The thing is, the way it’s all set up, is that they make it impossible for one person to support someone else alone. And carer’s allowance is a joke.’
Relief rushes through me. ‘God, isn’t it? What other job would you get less than a hundred quid for thirty-five hours’ work? The public would revolt.’
‘I’ve long considered revolting,’ he says with a sad laugh. ‘The councillors in my ends are pretty good with helping us find any bits of cash or support we didn’t know existed, but it’s mad that we have to rely on so many people to keep going.’
