‘Didhe explain why he wanted to end things?’
‘He said that he’s only twenty-six and doesn’t want anything too serious.’
‘Mate,you’reonly twenty-six and you don’t want anything too serious just yet. . .’
‘I KNOW! It’s so frustrating. He ticked all of my usual boxes and we have so much in common. Same age, both tall. . .’
Mila collapses onto the sofa with a humph.
‘What?’
‘I shouldn’t say it,’ she says, idly picking up her phone and announcing that our fried chicken is eighteen minutes away.
‘Say what?’ I press.
‘I don’t want to hurt your feelings. Ignore me.’
‘I just got dumped on the London Eye in a thunderstorm. The night before a huge work trip and less than two weeks before my boyfriend’s sister’s wedding. Which will be fine, by the way, because James has already found a mate to fill my shoes and neither of them can wait to gawp at the hot bridesmaids.’
Mila looks indignant on my behalf.
‘I don’t think today could get any worse,’ I add, motioning for her to continue.
‘Well. . . We’ve been here before, haven’t we?’ Mila suggests.
On second thoughts. . .
‘Way to kick a girl when she’s down,’ I sigh, falling into an abyss of self-pity while this morning’s mascara trickles down my cheeks. ‘Yes we have been here before. Yes I do end up single a lot. But James had such potential. He was one hundred per cent my type on paper.’
‘And yet you have the worst luck with men. Doesn’t that tell you something?’
‘That my best friend’s pep talk skills seriously suck?’
Milaraises an eyebrow. ‘Try again. . .’
‘That I’m unlucky in love and destined to be solo for the rest of my life?’ I rub my eyes. ‘Urgh, I’m annoyed with myself for even saying that last sentence out loud. I sound pathetic. Boys aren’t the be-all and end-all, are they? But I could tell myself that one thousand times and it still wouldn’t change the fact that I’d like someone to share things with. Like box sets and city breaks and the left side of my bed.’
‘And as it stands you’ll end up sharing all of those things with an utter knob-end,’ tuts Mila. ‘You always go for guys who are “your type on paper”. And guess what? They either turn out to be cocks or you reject them for something petty because it’s not part of your “fit”, like that guy you dumped because you thought he looked better in skinny jeans than you. Do you know what? Your type on paper sucks.’
‘It’s alright for you,’ I say, peering into the bottom of my empty glass. ‘You and Mike are solid as a rock. You’ve been together for two years now and I can’t even get past two chuffing months.’
‘Never mind me and Mike. This is about you and your happiness. How many times have we been in this exact situation? You come over after things have gone spectacularly wrong with the latest man in your life. We drink gin. I have our chicken order saved to favourites on my phone, FFS.’
I ponder this for a bit. ‘Maybe we could try vodka and burgers next time?’
Exasperated, Mila starts shaking me by the shoulders. ‘GIN AND CHICKENS AREN’T THE PROBLEM HERE! It’s the type of guy you go for. Let’s take a look at the evidence, shall we? You’ve just been dumped on one of London’s most famous landmarks. Seriously Jas, who does that? A buffoon, that’s who. Not someone you should want to be with. And pre-James, there was Zach, right?’
Iwince.
‘What happened with Zach?’
‘I hate to be rude but I was kind of hoping for some sympathy tonight. You dredging up my past dating failures really isn’t making me feel any better.’
‘And where is sympathy getting you? Absolutely nowhere, babes. You need some tough love.’
Mila is Awful.
‘Fine. Zach and I had been dating for about six weeks when I mentioned my thing for city breaks and he seemed up for it, so I organised a trip to Reykjavik. I was about to pay for the flights when I called him to check his passport number. His phone rang out which was weird because he always had it on him. I tried again later and got his answerphone. Then he stopped reading my messages, he didn’t show up for drinks that night, he stopped liking my Instagrams. . .’
