‘That would be mad.’ The girls jump about.
‘Don’t get your hopes up, she may be crazy busy, but it’s always worth an ask or you never know, do you?’
‘That’s what she says, maybe you’re like twin souls.’
‘Yeah, and maybe we’re both adults who know there’s nothing wrong with asking a question. If you don’t know, ask. That’s how you learn.’ I give them my fiercest look but they are too busy shrieking,twirling about and jumping up and down.
I love my job.
Chapter Twelve
Lily
My last appointment of the morning was Andrew, who presented me with a bouquet of poppies, clearly whipped from next door’s front garden, and the suggestion that I have made it onto his list of top twenty women, in the city of Bristol, in the Clifton area. And then was surprised when I didn’t keel over with gratitude and immediately agree to date him. He got a stern talking-to about therapist-client relationships and the adult equivalent of a behaviour plan. Apparently, he had one in school as well and was surprisingly receptive. It is clear I still have a lot of work to do.
But for today, I have no more clients and am free to turn to my emails.
This and Insta are how I select the problems that feature on the podcast and I love this part of my life. The fact that my paid work means I can give a full afternoon a week to answering these problems for free salves my soul. And makes some of the clients that come through the door more bearable.
I flick through my inbox. As ever there are a lot, all of which deserve answers. It’s tricky to strike a balance and so many of the questions are very, very similar, and usually revolve around someone doing things they aren’t confident with. I’d started off the podcast largely as sex advice but had been surprised how quickly it changed into a relationship-focused one. Initially, it had been aimed at a millennial audience but the age range has become diverse, with so many people out there fretting about being single, about finding the perfect partner, about keeping the one they have.
As I browse, I see the same old topics come up. I can often guess the age of the person asking simply by the subject matter and whilst I don’t believe that assumptions are ever a good idea, there is no denying that there are very distinct generational differences in the questions asked.
Today the usual suspects pop up; there is a message from a woman who loves her husband but is not sexually attracted to him anymore and wants to know how to get that back. This is pretty common and I dealt with it a few weeks ago, so I send her a link to the podcast where it is featured and move onto the next.
There is one from a young man who has a new partner who has kids and knowing her small children are in the house means he isn’t comfortable having sex when they are there – should he tell her? Hmm, that’s maybe one I can do. I had answered a similar question recently but that had been to do with teenage children. This is quite different. I mark it mentally as a possible.
Ooh, one on different sexual positions, I haven’t done that for a while. Truth is there may be many articles and books telling us there are a zillion different positions but they really only boil down to a strong six with the others being mere variations of these. This woman’s problem could probably be helped simply by changing position a couple of times during sex rather than sticking to the same one all the way through.
Oop, and a message asking if I’d let someone cum on my face. Always have a few of these. Honestly, men! What is wrong with them that so many think this sort of thing is okay? Truthfully, I don’t think men send unsolicited dick pics or this sort of question because they truly believe women like it or find their tiddly little beast a turn-on. They know this shit is not okay. They send it because they like the act of sending.
How do I know if he really likes me? Ahh, this question is cute, it’s often from the younger girls and quite frankly a bit of a relief from the ‘He says I can’t love him if I don’t do anal/sleep with his friends/let him post nudes of me in his WhatsApp groups’ that I also get from this demographic.
I think a bit. Yes, I’ll do this one today. I’ve had a few from older listeners recently and it’s about time I spoke to the younger ones. It’s the young girls that got me into this business in the first place; the desire to reassure young women who are going through that heinous time of exploding hormones, navigating social groups and cues and all the turmoil that comes from an adolescent brain. People often want to be young again; me, I’m happy sticking at thirty-five.
How do I know if he really likes me? Whitney bursts into song in my head and I can’t help but smile, only to be surprised when the following thought is an image of Jay from the sauna.
I thought that my dinner invitation with Doctor TicksAllTheBoxes McDishy, scheduled for tomorrow, was all I needed to pick my oh-so-bruised ego from the floor but I’m still churning Jay and his rejection over in my mind.
It is hard not to. He is so cute. After he had knocked me back, we had sat and talked for ages. Remarkable in its lack of awkwardness. I had worked hard not to let my ego get in the way, not to spoil the vibe, and we had left the sauna and headed into the hot tub as if we were friends visiting the lido together. He had laughed as I did the ice bucket and point-blank refused to do it himself. I flicked water at him as if I’d known him for twenty years and he actually squealed before threatening to flick me with his towel.
We sat in the hot tub for far longer than we should have. We talked about me as a child and my love for swimming, the charity 5K I had done for the last few years, enjoying the challenge and training leading up to it.
He had talked a lot about his sister, about how despite being the younger one she had once locked him in a rabbit hutch and refused to let him out until he had eaten raw carrots and made snuffling noises. How he was born and bred in Bristol and was devoted to the city. He loved music and was evangelical about the sounds coming out of Bristol.
Every time I think of him, I get a lazy smile spreading across my face, my mind braces itself for pleasure hormones spiking like mad inside and I get ridiculously moony. Only now it’s not just about his physique; spending time with him, talking to him, meant we both let each other in a little bit, and that has made my crush even more intense.
But I need to stop, not least because if my mind wanders when I’m around Kevin, he will know in an instant something strange is happening. I have enough of a battle trying to keep that awareness at bay from myself, let alone doing battle with that cackling truth-bringer.
I focus on my laptop and start to make notes for the next podcast. Some people record theirs spontaneously, claiming it’s more natural, but I like the security of knowing exactly what I’m going to say.
I sketch out the obvious points, that asking is the best way, not to be afraid, all the things I now do as an adult. Then I remember how it felt to be fifteen, all the insecurities, the doubts, the cruelty of others at that age. I quickly check the profile of the girl who has sent this question and see she is at uni.
I rarely check the profiles; it feels invasive and those who choose to send in questions deserve their privacy. That is only fair. But in certain cases – and this is one – it’s important to pitch it accurately; the advice I offer a fourteen-year-old will differ considerably from what I say to a young woman at university.
My mind scoots back to Jay; I know so much about him and yet so little. I never got around to asking all the questions that you would normally ask when meeting someone. What do you do for a living? Did you go to uni? Have you always lived in Bristol? We had just cut straight to the important shit, our families, our history.
My mind flicks to the doctor I’m meeting for dinner tomorrow. I remember how he looked at me, that once-over that demonstrates he finds me desirable, the up and down in a microsecond that I always find so validating. The one I still seek out to enable me to feel good about myself; to reassure myself that I am now a swan.
