I know how shallow this is. The importance of intrinsic validation is a fundamental lesson I work on with clients; that you need to learn to value yourself. But you know what they say about theory and practice; I nail the theory and do a pretty good job of appearing to nail the practice. But only I and Kevin know how firmly that mask is attached. How my physical insecurities are still there, my faux confidence a very thin silken mesh.
I know that those looks of appreciation that are for my body, my arse, my tits, my legs and how I parcel it up are as shallow as shit; they mean nothing about the core of me, the core that I should value above all the superficial nonsense. But it’s like a drug, a high I have to keep chasing. Those looks lift me up and make me feel valid, and every time I feel shitty about myself, every time that bullied little girl pops back into my head, then I’m out looking for the validation as sure as an addict will crawl the streets looking for the next hit.
I need to break the cycle. I haven’t done all this work for all these years not to be aware of how crazyily unhealthy this is. Jay’s face comes flooding back into my head. I know he said no to drinks, but I’m convinced he finds me attractive. All the signs were there.
What was refreshing was at no point did he do that up-and-down once-over, at no point did I catch his eyes slip to my breasts, my legs. The sparks were flying as if someone had set off a ton of dynamite in a diamond mine and it was all based on the rapport we shared.
Is this not the dream I send my clients searching for? Jay seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say and found it amusing. There was no faking that laugh; it reached deep inside and warmed the very core of you, it made me feel proud, accepted, approved of. And all just for me. Nothing to do with my unmade-up face and dull-as-ditchwater swimsuit or sleek sexy dresses and corn-inducing heels. Just me.
That is what I should aim for, I know it. I know that Kevin’s bitching about my sexual behaviour is due to his concern that my lack of desire for a relationship is unhealthy. But that sort of rapport leads to love and love leads to commitment and whilst that is the goal for the majority of people on this planet – comfortable companionship, someone you love so much that you want to build a life with them – that is not a luxury I can afford to indulge in. It wouldn’t be fair. Not fair to me, not fair to them and certainly not fair to a man as good as Jay, someone who has the importance of family emblazoned all over him.
No, my shallow, sex-seeking, ego-validating wham-bams are the best I can hope for and I cannot let my head get turned by a pretty boy like Jay. The memory of our chat means the thought of my doctor date leaves me cold, and yet that has to continue being my path.
But I liked being stripped-down Lily, I want to keep her for a little while longer. I reach for my phone and reschedule Doctor McDishy. If I cancel I’ll regret it but I am not in the mood tonight, and ridiculously it feels like cheating even if it’s just cheating myself.
As I hit send, I am distracted by the ping of an email.
Ooh, that looks interesting! And perfectly ties in with my interest in reaching girls who are the age I was when I struggled the most. Little Lily could have done with grown-up Lily then. This looks perfect.
Chapter Thirteen
Lily
Iapproach the building which is sat deep in the heart of Bristol. I have been invited in to meet the kids that attend this youth club and it sounds like the guy in charge, Jacob Cooper, wants to set up a space for the girls that is explicitly for young women, where they can discuss anything they need to. Somewhere he hopes to break down expectations and assumptions that perpetuate in this age group and teach that we must do what we’re comfortable with, stay true to what we want to be and try and make our decisions based on our best selves. All of which is manna to my heart. On paper he has managed to encapsulate everything I wanted to do when I got started and somehow got side-tracked by academia, by bills, by life.
It will be hard not to hug Mr Jacob Cooper for this opportunity when I see him but I am very aware I am here because of my professional reputation not my teenage ambitions. I have dressed carefully for today. I obviously need to be Doctor Galbraith but I also have to make sure I don’t reek of privilege, so out of touch with the girls that a giant chasm opens between us before I utter a word.
I smooth down the fabric of my jumpsuit and hope I’ve got it right. I’m in the yard when a girl saunters towards me. She is sassy as hell, I can see it from the way she walks, and I can feel the lift at the corners of my mouth. I would have loved to have had that confidence at her age.
‘Hey...’ she approaches me and looks me up and down. ‘You’re The Love Doctor, you came.' Her words are positive but her tone is more reserved. ‘I'm Chloe, I’ll go let Jay know you’re here. We didn’t know if you’d show,’ she says, turning and heading back to the building, stopping halfway across the yard and shouting over her shoulder, ‘You coming then?’
As we enter the building I can see the broad back of a man chatting to a girl on some beanbags. He reaches over to pat her shoulder, effectively screening his face from me, but there is something very familiar about him.
No!
I must be making a mistake.
This is the result of my febrile imaginings and ongoing lust-filled night-time fantasies. It can’t be. Am I hallucinating?
Mind you, Jacob, Jay, it’s not outside the realms of poss... My train of thought is cut off as he stands up, turns to me and I see him start back, a real jolt of shock on his face.
I can’t believe it. The man offering me the chance to work with these girls, do some good in the community, is Jay. Cacti Guy is now standing in front of me with his mouth wide open, looking as shocked as I am, and says, ‘I didn’t recognise you with your clothes on...’
Chloe swivels her head around at speed, like a horror movie extra.
He doesn’t recognise me with my clothes on?Really?I feel quite sorry for him; I can imagine how I would feel had I said something as daft in a professional setting. Mind you, talking of clothes, he is beautifully turned out. He is wearing jeans and a T-shirt, but these are not any old jeans and a T-shirt. The cut is sharp, the fabrics are quality and his trainers are so white, they may burn my retinas. The clothes fit him beautifully, the T-shirt sleeves sitting on his upper arm and highlighting their muscular form.
He is clearly a man who takes pride in his appearance.
‘Oh my God...’ He is fumbling for words now and the embarrassment is written all over his face. ‘I... oh my God, I’m so sorry, that phrase is literally programmed in... oh no, that’s even worse, I’m so sorry.' He turns to address the small crowd of girls now gathering around. ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’This is said with much more authority, his voice firm.
‘Ha, no worries, I know what you mean.’ I smile at him and try to negate any embarrassment he may feel. No one has ever said this to me at work before, and it doesn’t do much to enhance my professional standing. But I do know what he means. And that it wasn’t meant in any way to be as it sounded.
‘You look really different,’ he says as he takes a step forward to shake my hand and set things back onto a professional footing. I lean forward to take his hand and somehow he bangs into one of the beanbags, stumbling as he does so and furiously righting himself. The girls are looking at him as if they have never seen him like this before and I feel for him.
‘I had no idea it would be—’ I say.
‘I had no idea—’ he starts to say at the same time, and we both laugh.
