Chapter One
Lily
Remember, people, the dating world is not that scary. When the time is right you will meet the perfect person. This is Dr Lily Galbraith signing off and reminding you of the four golden rules of dating – Be brave, have faith, be true to yourself and don’t lick their faces!
Ilisten to my sign-off on the final version of this week’sLove Doctorpodcast. The subject matter is a little close to home but I’m done, I click upload and tap through to make sure all has gone smoothly before I close the lid of my laptop. As I do so I cast around the box room cum wardrobe where I record each week. This room is perfect with clothes on racks along each wall which absorb the sound and provide me with a little podcast-making cocoon, with just enough room for my teeny table.
Now I’m finished, I give a quick but firm nod to the polystyrene heads that adorn high shelves. I try not to be intimidated by them. Obviously, I’m aware they are inanimate objects and that we don’t live in aToy Storykind of world where these things come to life, but still, I don’t trust them, not one iota.
With this room being the ideal recording space, we have to co-exist; but they seriously freak me out, especially late at night and home alone. All the wigs are displayed on lifeless heads that have been coloured in, badly, with felt-tips by Kevin and myself one drunken evening and further decorated with sequins, feathers and glitter in an attempt to hide the appalling ineptitude of our drunken colouring.
With each one now having a lurid face to match the wig’s personality, they look even more horror-movie-esque than they did unadorned. Even with the lights on full, every time I sit in here I half expect them to suddenly come to life, manifest machetes and begin some sort of crazed spree that will ultimately end in high-pitched singing with Jinx’s glorious Technicolor wardrobe shredded on the floor. Frankly, the thought of the music these creatures would produce scares me far more than the machetes.
I give them one more glare, just to remind them of their place, as I pick up my laptop and head on out. Maybe Kevin is right, maybe I need to work a little bit on my own head alongside my teaching and therapy work. A case of physician heal thyself. Although whilst I would want to work on why I’m spooked by shaped polystyrene, he is beginning to drop hints – again – that there are other things I should be concentrating on.
Kevin seems to have breathed fire into his determination to tell me where I’m going wrong in my life. I love him desperately – he appears wildly confident and more than a little bit bitchy but he is the sweetest, most considerate person I have ever known – however his views on my lifestyle can well and truly sod off. He cackled for a full ten minutes when he heard the topic of this week’s podcast:My friends all say my sexual behaviour is unhealthy but I’m happy with my choices. How do I get them to understand?
I do date frequently and am very happy doing so regardless of what he has to say about it. There were years when I was younger that I despaired of ever being attractive and now that I am, I’m going to damn well enjoy myself. Not judging people on consensual relationship choices is important to me and it irks me,reallyirks me, that my best friend seems to think my refusal to want to be part of a couple is worthy of judgement.
I know Kevin is coming from a place of love and even if I do need to make some changes – I Very Definitely Don’t – he needs to remember that people have to do things in their own time.
Looking up at the gap on the shelf I know that tonight Kevin will be working at our very favourite bar, Chrysalis, and doing so in full French revolutionary chic – the pink Marie Antoinette wig is missing – as he transforms himself into the beautiful, ever-talented, potty-mouthed cat that is High Jinx, Bristol’s finest (I’m a little biased) Drag Queen.
Part of me is itching to join him. I could do with throwing my arms above my head and dancing until dawn but I need a slightly more, um ... intimate Saturday night this week, especially after such a disappointing date last weekend. Mark was a lovely guy but he talked and talked and talked. And there is only so much any person can say about railways, specifically the disused Strawberry Line between Yatton and Cheddar, on a Saturday night. Onanynight.
Dating apps are meant to screen some of this stuff out. Mark had been savvy enough not to mention this slightly niche obsession in either his profile or our initial messages, but after an hour in his company I beat a polite retreat. I am open-minded, I love sex and cast a wide net but there are limits. I suspect he’s the type of man that keeps his socks on.
Tonight, however, is looking promising. I have a new date lined up, am all sorts of excited and am heading there now. On the app he looks like a cross between Tom Hiddleston and Ryan Reynolds. There is very definitely a naughty twinkle and I do like a naughty twinkle; throw in beautifully groomed and I’m halfway there before any actual meeting takes place. And this guy claims to work largely overseas so will spend most of his time in far-away climes... perfect. I have a feeling that tonight is going to be very satisfying indeed.
I dress in one of my favourite date outfits – a slinky green jumpsuit that does more than hint at the hidden treasures on offer – touch up my make-up, pop some product on my hair, do a twirl and skip down the stairs and out of the door.
Just as I lock it behind me, I hear my ringtone. Pulling my phone from my bag I see that it’s Angela, my newest client. Angela has a date tonight. An actual date. And she shouldn’t be calling me now... this isn’t a good sign at all. I have a sinking feeling that Angela may not have adhered to my advice,anyof my advice. And whilst I’m all about finding someone who loves you for you, sometimes the ‘you’ bit can do with a smidge of refinement. And with most of my clients, that is quite a bit. With Angela, things are a little more ... um ... complex.
‘I don’t think I’ll ever find someone who understands me,’ Angela sobs down the phone before I even get a hello in. I take a deep breath and try to make my voice as gentle as can be. Having met Angela – and her life-size companions – for the first time last week I figure I already know the answer to the question I am obliged to ask.
‘Angela, did you take the dolls on the date with you?’
‘You said to be true to myself,’ she retorts defensively, between sniffles.
‘I did. I also told you to let this man get to knowyoufirst and that learning to love Fredrico, Paisley, Courtney and Robert may take time. Not everyone will be comfortable with life-sized dolls taking up four extra seats in the cinema. We did discuss this...’
‘He wouldn’t even buy them popcorn!’ she sobs.
Nearly two hours later and somewhat disheartened, I slide into Chrysalis. This evening has been a complete wash-out and by the time I escaped it was too late to swim out my frustrations but at least I can have a little bit of a boogie. As I push open the bar door, High Jinx catches my eye from behind the decks and pulls a what-are-you-doing-here? face. Seconds later she changes the music and Gloria Estefan floods the bar as she pages Doctor Beat.
I grin. She is naughty and I watch as she signals to Dan who is helping at the bar to take over on the decks before she comes bounding up to me and pulls me into a super-fast salsa. We dance as quickly as the music dictates, the two of us so used to each other that we feel fluid, as if we run into one another, my feet moving so fast as I keep up with the beat that I can picture them flying off. Our bodies mirror each other and even though she’s my best friend, I can see, feel, that there is a sensuality to our movements. Highlighted as Dan shouts into the mic, ‘Doctor Beat is in the house and on the floor, ladies. Look at those hips, we can see why she’s the Luurrrve Doctor.’
Jinxy smirks as she hears Dan use that name, spins me fast and we seamlessly move into the cha-cha we learned to dance together at university. I drop into a half split and as Jinxy twirls me up and spins me around again she pullsme into her and our hips gyrate and then as the climax builds to the end of the song, I know Jinxy well enough to know exactly how she wants to finish this. As I suspect does Dan, who deliberately hasn’t lined up a new track yet. I dance back into my own space andkapow, as the last note sounds, she death drops and everyone around us cheers. She gets to her feet, makes a swirly bow to me and I drop a curtsy. As put out as I feel by another catastrophic date, I can’t help how the high energy of my friend brings the smile right back to my face.
Jinxy returns to the decks and I dance until her set is over and the lights are on. I am so out of breath, I may actually need an ambulance. I’m fit, super fit and my swimming means I have strong lungs but Dan had joined me on the floor and he is something else – as Phyllis so succinctly put it when she hired him,That boy has hips that James Brown would covet– and even he is panting as we drop onto one of the velour banquettes that line the back wall of the bar.
‘What are you doing here tonight? You should be on your back, on his front, on someone any which way. It’s Saturday night, are you losing your touch?’ Jinx bounds over, her set finished for the evening, her wig slightly askew and her face flushed from jumping around like a lunatic for the last couple of hours. She has, however, stopped to grab a jug of water for us and some glasses from the bar. She’s wearing one of her favourite dresses, one that she made herself with a little bit of help from Dan and which manages to encapsulate the luxury and hedonism of the French court with its corseted but very low top, poufy sleeve endings and full skirt, albeit one that is drastically shortened and far from floor-length.
‘Maybe she’s refining her touch,’ Dan says to Jinx. ‘Maybe she turned this one down.’
‘This one had come-to-bed eyes and floppy hair, so I doubt it. What actually happened?’
‘Dan’s right,’ I say, still a bit panty but my smugness manages to come through. Jinx clasps her bosom and draws in enough breath to intimidate the Big Bad Wolf before quirking her brow in query. ‘Oh my God, okay, yes he was so gorgeous to look at and you know me—’
