‘Ohhh. Are they? Sorry, I meanof course,’ I say and laugh. ‘Well, David, as long as you keep your paws clean, I’m sure we’ll have no trouble at all.’
Carys smiles at me so wide that her eyes crinkle. God, she really is so pretty. That disconnect from Carys this morning feels even wider. I feel like I’ve met three versions of her – the Carys managing an emergency, the one shaking over juice, and this one, relaxed and smiling and pretending to be a capybara.
‘How did your day go?’ she asks.
‘Not bad,’ I say, wondering how honest to be with her. ‘I think my last date was a solid contender.’
‘Oh yeah?’ She cocks her head like a puppy.
‘Yeah… Warren? Have you met him yet?’
Carys checks her notebook and then shakes her head. ‘Sorry, I’m so bad with names. No, not yet! What did you like about him?’
My brain runs quickly through the list of things I can’t say. ‘He’s very kind. I think we come from a similar background too. I don’t know, I don’t want to get too excited just yet, but he was my best option by far today.’
‘That shared background is important, I think. To some extent, not always, but like, having someone whoknowsyou, who gets where you came from. That’s huge.’ Her eyes take on a soft, dreamy look.
I hate to say it, but I feel a sag of disappointment in my chest. ‘So, who is he then?’
She laughs and that pretty pink blush warms her face again. ‘Is it that obvious?’
‘Very.’
It’s for the best that I nip this crush in the bud, even if it’s a sharp reminder that I seem to be the only queer in the warehouse.
‘Patrick. He’s a vet. He’s… he’s really nice.’ She tells me about their date, about how he likes someone called Colonel Brandon, which makes me worry she’s secretly well into the military, but she insists is a Jane Austen thing. They both like animals so that’s fair enough really; I bet he knew what a capybara was.
‘Good. I look forward to meeting him tomorrow.’ For a second, she looks very panicked. ‘So I can suss him out for you!’
Instantly, Carys relaxes. ‘S-sorry,’ she stammers.
I wave it off. ‘Honestly, no stress. It’s weird that we’re dating everyone. I’ll give him a proper grilling. Make sure he’s good enough for you.’
That also gets a blush. Maybe because she’s thinking about Patrick in damp Regency clothing or whatever straight women enjoy. ‘Thank you. I… I haven’t had the best luck with dating recently.’
I look theatrically around us. ‘Whomst among us in this warehouse has?’
She giggles and it is annoying that I still get a kick out of making her laugh.
‘What’s your dating life been like?’ she asks. ‘If you want to talk about it. Don’t worry if you don’t!’
I shrug. ‘I’ve not dated much in the last few years, but I’ve had a few relationships that lasted a while. Nothing ever really stuck.’
This is true, or at least, partly. Pip, Ayesha and Josie all stuck around for about a year. Either they called it off or I did. The usual break-up reasons in your mid-twenties – someone moves away, someone wants to get married sooner, you have an irreconcilable difference over what constitutes fidelity. They were heartbreaks, at one time, but now they’re a soft-focus memory, an old picture tucked between pages. Then there were the more casual affairs, one-night stands or several-night stands. Sometimes several nights spaced out over the course of many years. In a small city like Liverpool, you end up picking up with the same girls over and over. Even the one dyke bar in Manchester yielded some repeat hits.
But with balancing work, looking after Mum and my uterus throwing increasingly uglier tantrums, sex hasn’t exactly been on my mind. And who needs romance when you’ve got lesbians on TikTok who rescue cats for a living and who are conveniently across an ocean so you can’t dream too deeply about them? A parasocial crush you keep to yourself is underrated.
Okay, I heard it. I need a life.
I turn the attention back on Carys. ‘No luck for you either?’
‘No, not really.’ She gathers David into her lap. ‘Just a high school boyfriend that lasted too long, and not much luck getting a third date since. Do you have any advice?’
‘About what?’
‘About… picking the right one, I guess?’
‘If I had any insight into that, I’m not sure I’d be onWedded Bliss,’ I deflect, because really I’m not sure I know much about love first hand. I’ve been agony aunt to various group chats over the years, but if you stop replying, people stop adding you, make a new chat, move on. It feels like I’m out of the game on friendship as much as romance.
