“Hello beautiful xxx I’ll look forward to seeing you soon I hope xxx” the Captain’s What’s App message comes through at 10.22pm. So, the Captain either doesn’t read that newspaper or doesn’t read the section full of my mad, fat, cancerous dating self or doesn’t mind. Which is nice.
“Yay! Thursday!” I reply, in case he’s forgotten and send a photo of the fluffy monster being embraced by Mum.
“Come & snuggle on my sofa,” he says.
“Your sofa is far away,” I say.
Seb’s Mum messages to say that it’s a good article and that I look beautiful in the photo. So that’s good. Nothing from Seb yet. Know he had a long day of work yesterday. Possibly he hasn’t read it.
“I don’t understand what the problem is,” Mum says when she calls just as I’m attempting to leave the house this morning. “Surely Seb doesn’t expect you to wait around for him to stop wanting to be celibate? When he went into that monastery for three years, as far as you knew, that was it and he was never getting out and…”
“Yes, but he is out of the monastery now,” I say, trying to get dressed whilst I’m talking to Mum.
“But he can’t expect you just to wait around for ever,” Mum says.
“No, I know. He knows I’m dating, and writing the blog about it – I told him. But that doesn’t mean that I need to rub his nose in it by drawing his attention to a huge article about how I’m meeting loads of chaps.”
“You told him it’s just research and that a lot of the dates are only forty minutes or so. You reassured him that you don’t get up to anything with these people?” Mum says.
“Yes, I suppose so,” I say.
“He probably won’t read it anyway,” Mum says. “You’d better get going or you’ll be late for the office. We’ve had lots of messages from all sorts of people talking about how much they like the article and how good the writing is.”
“Good,” I say. “Bye, Mum.”
“Bye darling,” Mum says. Have a good day at the office. Do lots of work.”
The problem is, I think as I sit on the bus to the office, I just want Seb to have some respect for me. Just because I happen to be dating some people – or trying to – it doesn’t mean that I want him to read all the sordid details of it. He is my great love and my inspiration. If only I could finish my great work about him. That would make him happy. If only he could adore me as much as I adore him, then we could be together and I could give up this dating business…