Memories

I gripped the lily tightly as I climbed down the steep grassy verge that led into the field. I stopped, pausing to catch my breath. The long summer grass rustled gently in the wind and in the distance I could hear birds singing merrily. Had it not been for the small arrangement of flowers, soft toys and plaques, it would have been idyllic.

I sat down on the grassy bank, daring my memories to make an appearance. I had become quite adept at hiding the past. I had almost tricked my mind into forgetting what had happened, at least whilst conscious. My nightmares had become reality, as I tossed and turned in my sleep. Reliving that night, every night since it happened.

It has almost been seven years since my brother died. The last time I seen him we were sat side by side, trapped within a car, in this very field. This was only the second time I had been here; the first was not by choice. We had hurtled over the side in a flash of lights, the scraping of metal as the two cars had collided and bounced off each other, the screeching of breaks and tires as the drivers tried unsuccessfully to regain control of their cars. Both cars went over the seventy foot drop that day, it was so far from the road that it took rescue teams hours to find the two vehicles.

It had been a beautiful night; he had a passion for taking photographs of sunsets and we had drove for hours looking for the perfect location. Like most twins we were inseparable, we did everything together. We were seventeen; both of us had just recently passed our driving test and we were in that phase were we loved driving. We shared a car and were constantly arguing about who would drive. That night had been no different, he had always been a soft touch and as I jumped into the driver’s seat shouting “shotgun,” he got in beside me, sticking out his tongue.

We headed home, driving steadily along the road. It was nightfall now but the moon was full and it cast a silver glow across everything in its reach. He sat with his camera aimed out of the window capturing the moonlight, his last memories of life trapped on film.

It happened in slow motion, the car came towards us, headlights full beam, blinding us, the impact was sudden and we were thrown forward, the camera hit the window causing it to crack. As we plummeted over the edge, I couldn’t hear anything. It was like a silent movie. I closed my eyes.

I could hear him calling my name, my eyes flickered open and he reached over to touch my arm. I couldn’t move and I couldn’t feel his touch. I felt numb. I glanced at my leg, it was trapped and there was blood everywhere. Panic set in. I turned my eyes to him, looking for comfort. He always knew what to say. He looked so calm. Blood covered his beautiful face, it poured from an open wound on his head and as I moved my gaze lower, tightness gripped my chest. Something had impaled his side of the car, and gone straight through him too. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he managed between feverish breaths. Blood ran from his mouth.

My eyes began to sting; he was always a terrible liar. Slowly he reached between us and picked up the camera, pain etched across his face. “Promise me one thing? Have these developed, they will be worth it.” He smiled though the pain, placing the camera in my hand.

“Of course,” I replied, wanting to say anything to stop his pain, if even for a second. It felt cold. I shivered. The moonlight shone into the car, I gazed at him. His lips were parted; his big, green eyes looked glazed, no longer reflecting the moonlight. I screamed, pain running through me, physical pain as I tried to move and emotional pain as every feeling I ever had rose through me. Anger, love, loss, manifesting as tightness in my chest, crushing me from the inside. Unbearable.

I opened my eyes. Brushing the tears from my face. I brought the flower to my face, inhaling deeply. Letting the smell bring me a different memory. A happy memory. Lilies were his favourite. We have a picture together. His face covered in yellow from putting his face too close to the pollen, his shirts were always stained. I smiled fondly though my tears. I had become quite adept at hiding the past. So adept that I had blocked all memories of him. I forgot that there could be good memories too.

I didn’t go all the way down into the field that day. I sat on the bank and let the memories wash over me. Before I left I pulled the photograph from my pocket. It featured a bright, perfectly oval, orange sun, across a pink sky, dotted with the silhouette of birds, taken almost seven years ago. I laid it on the grass and placed the Lily beside it. I closed my eyes trying to imagine his smile. I felt cold and I shivered, as I slowly turned to walk back up the hill. I took a deep breath, recognising the familiar feeling but I didn’t look back.

The ex factor – day 1

The age old question of can you really be friends with an ex, recently came into play in my life.
We had been dating for 4 months, we spent a lot of time together and enjoyed each others company. However there was no deeper connection, other than the great sex, we were more like friends.
So when he announced that he had met someone else I wasn’t overly surprised. I can’t say that I wasn’t hurt, of course I was. I cared for him and know one wants to feel like they have been traded in for a newer, thinner, completely opposite model of themselves.
I had seen pictures of them together before he had told me. She was attractive, dam I probably would have cheated on me with her too.

We had already planned to vacation together, everything was booked, so we decided to go ahead and go on holiday anyway. Everyone I knew advised against it, ‘going on holiday with an ex,’ they would question, ‘an ex who left you for another girl non the less?’
Never one to follow advice, noble as it was, I had already set my mind. We would vacation. I mean we were both adults right? I viewed it as a challenge, an experiment almost.

In the two weeks that led up to our holiday we didn’t talk, other than to discuss flight or hotel details. This provided me with lots of time to catch up with friends, who, once they heard the whole story, thought I was crazy and that he was an asshole. I had two weeks of ex hating, skanky hoe slating, man trashing preparation talks. Inevitably by the time vacation day arrived my level of hate for the ex was incredibly high and the fact that he was running late did nothing to eleviate that hatred. I stood beside him at the airport with a face like thunder, fury running though my veins. What the hell was I doing?

I practised my breathing exercises, thanking my lucky stars that airports had such a strict policy on sharp objects.

We made it to the plane, all body parts in tact and no blood shed. Our flight was a night flight, and as I yawned trying to stay awake, he pulled me towards him, I hated him, I didn’t want to be close to him, yet exhausted and tired of fighting I gave in. I rested my head on his chest, breathing in his familiar smell, feeling him running his fingers through my hair, I relaxed, I closed my eyes and for that brief moment between conscious and sleep, I forgot about everything.

I woke up feeling groggy and as the sleepy mist cleared, the what the hell am I doing feeling returned. I pulled away from him sharply, angry that I’d given in to sleep, well not the sleep, I’d given in to him. In mere hours he’d used sleep depravation to con me into forgiveness. I sat up and allowed the angry frown lines, to once again take their place upon my face. He wanted to be friends? Well I wasn’t going to make it easy for him.

When we finally arrived at our beach side villa, the view, the smells, the sea and the sun had softened my frown so much so, that the resort staff thought we were married. Hiding a smile, he touched my hand.
‘Honey, lets go to our room,’ to the strangers surrounding us, perhaps it sounded like a statement. To me, I knew it was a question, a question laced with seduction. He was crossing into a grey area. An area friends shouldn’t cross into. Was this a test? I could feel the frown making an appearance again.
‘Yes darling,’ I murmured, scowling at him. He laughed. He knew I was on to him.

As we entered our villa, we were greeted by a four poster bed covered in flowers. It took approximately 5 minutes for the boarders of the grey area to be infiltrated and the troops were making no effort to drawback.
Day 1 of friendship with an ex – fail.

As with everything we indulge in, we told ourselves the little white lie everyone tells themselves to justify their actions… We’ll start tomorrow…

Paradise

Every summer Lara would travel to the same part of the Island. The secret part that was hidden from the world and to the unknowing eye it perhaps seemed like the inaccessible part of the island. Once she reached her favourite spot she lay down on the soft grass that covered the top of the cliff. She breathed in the sweet smell of summer flowers and the salty sea breeze. It was perfect. Secluded. She felt like the only person alive and once again she was filled with a sense of peacefulness and serenity, which reminded her that the lengthy task of getting here was most definitely worth it.
She pulled out her notepad and began to sketch; she was lost in her artwork and the beauty of her surroundings when a man’s voice pulled her from her work. Impossible she thought shaking her head, no one else knew about this area of the island. In the three years she had been coming she had never seen another person.

“If you had the choice to live forever in the perfect paradise but you had to leave everything behind, would you do it?”

It was clearer this time and it was definitely a man. He had a deep, almost soothing voice, and as he repeated the question it sounded like he was trying to stifle a laugh.

“If you had the choice to live forever in the perfect paradise but leave everything behind. Would you do it?”

She turned and there, just three metres away, stood the man who uttered those enchanting words. He was beautiful. Tall, lean and tanned. He was the definition of a good looking man. Lara tried to speak but her words caught in her throat. He was wearing a pair of white linen shorts that hugged his hips neatly, leaving very little to the imagination. Lara’s mouth grew dry, she gulped trying to swallow. His abs glistened in the summer heat and his vest top hung neatly over one shoulder. His dirty, blonde, hair moved slightly in the wind and his deep blue eyes seemed to search her face, looking for her answer.

“It depends on the terms,” she finally managed.
“The terms were quite clear,” he chuckled, “if you want to live in paradise, you must leave everything and everyone behind.”

Lara looked at him, what kind of game was he playing? It felt like one of her sisters ‘would you rather’ games. Except he asked with such conviction that it felt real. It felt like her answer could change everything.

“How long do I have to think about it?” She asked, almost hoping he wanted an answer instantly.
“You have until the sunsets on Thursday night,” he said, smiling knowingly.

He disappeared back into the overgrowth almost as quickly as he appeared. The questions circled around her head, seemingly chasing each other looking for answers. But she had no answers. Only more questions. She felt dizzy. She packed away her things and began the slow descent back to her rented cottage on the beach. She couldn’t wait to get home. She needed a glass of wine and a long relaxing bath.

The next morning she made her way back to her favourite spot. She was nearing the top of the cliff when she spotted him. He sat with his back to her, his legs dangling over the edge of the cliff.

“Morning Lara,” he chimed, without turning around.

Lara stumbled, caught off guard. He jumped to his feet in a motion that on the outside looked like he was going to catch her, yet he still remained several metres away and he maintained this distance. Lara replayed their conversation from yesterday back in her head. How did he know her name? How did he know she was behind him?

“You are fine?” His stare was intense and she felt compelled to nod her head.

“Yes,” she muttered, “fine.”

She sat down, organising her things. “Would you like a coffee?” she offered, pulling the picnic blanket straight beneath her.

“No thank you, but you please enjoy,” he winked at her moving a little closer, watching her busy herself.

As the day wore on they began to talk, awkward at first but things became easier. He asked her questions and she talked. He already appeared to know the answers before she had said them but she obliged anyway. They talked about everything, but neither of them mentioned their conversation from yesterday, the unspoken words hung in the air between, silent yet deafening.

The next few days followed the same pattern. Lara found herself looking forward to their meetings and at night time she would drift off to sleep thinking about him.

On the Thursday morning she rose early. She had made her decision. She had tossed and turned all night thinking about her answer. Could she leave everything behind? She had thought about her life, she was very independent. She vacationed alone, lived alone. She barley spoke to her parents. People wouldn’t really miss her if she never returned. The decision was actually pretty easy.

When she arrived at their usual spot she was surprised that he wasn’t there already. He was always sat on the edge expecting her. She tried to ignore the disappointed feeling that spread through her.
Pushing the unsettled thoughts to the back of her mind she began to sketch. Looking up every now and again to see if he had arrived yet but there was no sign of him. The sun was due to set within the hour and she had her answer. Where was he?

As the hour slowly dwindled away, he still hasn’t appeared. She was beginning to worry. Maybe something had happened to him. She walked towards where he usually sat, hoping there might be some clue as to where he was, when she suddenly heard someone shout. She turned, it was him.

“Once you cross over you can never return,” his words were soft but served as a warning.

“I choose paradise,” she whispered.

“I know,” he replied ” I too chose paradise, in this exact spot, at this exact time, 300 years ago. You can’t go back, even if you wanted to, everything and everyone you ever knew will cease to exist for you. Are you sure?”

She felt her stomach churn, but she nodded her head. She began to walk towards him, mentally preparing herself for a lifetime in paradise, when her lace caught on the small branch of a berry shrub. The shrubs grew all over the cliffs and in the spring were covered in beautiful fragrant flowers. She didn’t know how she hasn’t seen it. She tugged at the branch but it wouldn’t budge. She pulled harder and it suddenly sprang free, she tumbled backwards in slow motion, falling closer to the edge of the cliff.
“Lara!!!” Her name echoed across the cliffs.
He jumped towards her, arms outstretched, it was such a quick reaction that he didn’t have time to think of the consequences. As he crossed the line, that many years ago he had been warned about, his body began to crumble and turn to ash. He had been warned not to cross the line. Time in paradise did not match time in the real world and as he crossed back into real time he had aged instantly.

Lara fell, arms outstretched, hoping in vain to clutch onto anything, but she continued to fall. Time stopped still as she hit the hard rock beneath her. She took her last breath.
The waves lapped at her long, golden hair, now matted with scarlet as the sun began to set.
Upon the cliffs the last of the ashes blew in the sea breeze and once again the secret lay hidden, and perhaps to the untrained eye it looked inaccessible. Maybe that’s what makes paradise so appealing… It’s inaccessibility, it’s unobtainability, the magic lure… It’s to die for.

Closure

Jose stared at him. He was, in her mind, an incredibly beautiful man and he was having one of his ‘famous’ house parties. Her mind drifted back to how things used to be. They used to have ‘a thing.’ Short but sweet; they used to do everything together. She liked being around him. She couldn’t put her finger on it. Perhaps it was his charismatic presence, or the way he remembered everything about her, or maybe it was that he didn’t want her the way she wanted him.

It wasn’t that he didn’t care; she truly believed that he did care for her. They had remained friends after all, he insisted. Over the summer they had gone their separate ways. Promising to rekindle what they had when they returned from their travels. However life never turns out the way you expect it to. While he had been backpacking he had met a girl. He was infatuated with her yet when they finally met after that long summer he was hesitant to tell her that he had met someone.

As he told Jose about his summer love, she had smiled, nodded her head and whispered how happy she was for him. On the outside she appeared calm and accepting. “Let’s stay friends,” he’d said. “Nothing will change. It will be just like before.”

“Sure,” she replied. How could things possibly be the same?

That night when she arrived home, she closed the door and instantly crumpled to the floor. It was like her legs could no longer bare the weight of what had happened, as she lay on the floor of her apartment she finally let herself feel. All her unspoken thoughts finally surfacing. The tears pooled and ran down her face, her breath heavy, came out in uncontrollable sobs. How did this happen? How could she have fallen so deeply for him, when he clearly felt nothing for her?

In the morning, the sunlight made her stir and for that brief moment between dreaming and waking she felt calm. However as she moved she realised that she still lay on the cold tiled floor of her apartment. Her muscles were sore, her eyes swollen and red. She glanced at her phone. She had a missed call and a message from him. He wanted to go for lunch later this afternoon. She couldn’t meet him. She couldn’t be friends. It was too hard. “We can’t be friends,” she typed.

Half an hour later her doorbell rang. She knew it was him. She opened the door, he looked angry. So she took a step back and folded her arms across her chest. He took one look at her and his expression softened. He brushed a stray piece of her from her face. “What’s wrong,’ he asked, his voice shook a little as he realised he already knew the answer. He pulled her into a hug and she began to sob. “I like you,” she cried, “I really like you.” Again her legs gave way but this time she didn’t fall upon the floor. He lifted her to his chest and placed her on the bed. “I didn’t mean to make you sad,” he whispered. “What can I do?”

The answer she gave and the answer she wanted to give varied completely. “I can’t be friends with you.”

“You’re sure that’s what you want?”

She nodded her head, not trusting herself to use words. “I’ll always be here for you, you know.” He kissed her on the forehead and held her close. She didn’t want him to leave, her tears poured down silently from her eyes leaving wet patches on his shirt.

He got up, and without looking back he walked out of the room. This was the last time he would walk through that door. The thought filled her with a heavy weight across her chest. It felt tight and everlasting.

Of course it wasn’t everlasting. One year on and things were the way they used to be. It had been hard initially and they left many things unspoken. Her feelings for him eventually began to fade. They were friends. Like he said they would be.

She gazed past him; there at the other side of the room flashing her his sexy white smile was her man. He tipped his head gesturing for her to come over. “You never dance with me,” he teased.

She smiled up at him, this incredible, patient man had made her realise what she wanted. For a long time she had held on to what she had thought she wanted. A friendship with the man who broke her heart but deep inside she knew she had always wanted more. As she searched his face she knew.

Sometimes you have to give up the things you want, for the things you want more. And everything she wanted more stood before her now.

“Let’s go,” she smiled, and without looking back they walked out of the room. She knew this would be the last time she would walk through his door and as she walked out she felt the weight finally release from her chest. Now she definitely had everything she wanted.

Lead me not into temptation, I can find my own way.

It had been a painfully long, cold and particularly dry winter. Ethan felt like he had spent the last decade of his life in solitary confinement. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt the warm caress against his skin, the dewy glow of warm bodies, the excitement and anticipation of what was to come.

He had been waiting for this day for a long time but he knew it would most definitely be worth the wait.
But he couldn’t rush it. An event this monumental had to be planned. Every little detail had to be perfect.

When the day finally arrived he unpacked the lotion from the fridge and lay it beside the hamper. He smiled as he thought about the tingling sensation of the cool cream as it was poured across the heated body of another.

Next he removed the strawberries and neatly placed them, along with the cream, in the basket beside the other delicious snacks he had lovingly prepared the night before.
His mouth began to salivate as he imagined the sweet cream dripping from the plump, luscious strawberries, ravenously being devoured by the lips of another. The though was almost too much. He closed the basket quickly, he was getting too carried away.
‘Good things come to those who wait,’ his fathers words echoed through his mind.

Swiftly he continued the preparations. He grabbed his Grandmothers giant patchwork quilt from his closet. Even after all those years it was still softer than ever. He placed it beside the picnic hamper along with the umbrella, after all, they were going to need some privacy and protection for when things got too hot.

He loaded everything into the car. His lips began to curl at the edges, the promise of what was to come filled him with a preadolescent frenzy he hadn’t felt for years. The thought of the never ending golden beauty, the sheer joy and heat, the satisfaction as he finally dove into the wet depths and submerged himself completely in the salty wonder.

Suddenly Ethan stopped in his tracks, pulled from his fantasy, he cursed. He had forgotten the most important thing. He ran back to his apartment and several moments later reappeared. He couldn’t believe he had almost forgotten this. On the first real day of summer, no trip to the beach would be complete without an inflatable Lilo!
To an outsider perhaps it sounds like a lot of preparation but for Ethan, a picnic on the beach was worth it.

For arguments sake

‘I don’t fucking care,’ he yelled. I knew he didn’t care, so why did his words create such a sharp pain, that slowly spread, making me feel numb?
Maybe that was the moment that I realised. The moment when things became clear. He really didn’t care. Not what strangers thought of him, not what friends thought of him. He didn’t even care what I thought. His lack of caring was so transparent now. So evidently obvious. He didn’t care, about anything, and I, like everything else fell into that category.

A small part of me had secretly hoped that maybe, just maybe this was a mask. He had to care right? Everyone, no matter how tough, cared about something or someone.
Well, the exception perhaps being psychopaths. They are Biologically wired in such a way that it wasn’t physically possible for them to care. And these people have a breaking point, a trigger, something that pulls them away from the restraints of civilisation and the rules and laws, that keep us safe, that keep us human.

Criminal investigation units create profiles on these people. They know what they are capable of, their limits and their triggers. But without a profile these people can be time bombs.

I felt numb from head to toe, with four little words, I had created a monster in my head. The careless man before me had gone from being a major jerk to a potential mass murderer.

But I composed myself, brushed the thought to one side and looked him in the eye. ‘Well I don’t fucking care either,’ I replied, ‘just bloody pick, Macdonalds or KFC…’

So okay, perhaps the numbness had been caused by hunger but nevertheless, I’m creating a profile, just in case.

Reggae reggae, it’s so nice you say it twice.

By April, I was well and truly settled into life in Doha. I had met an amazing group of people and the lifestyle and weather was so different from Scotland that I had had the opportunities to do things I had never done before.
Male colleagues from school had started to play basketball in an organised league. When they had a game we would go and watch them play, not because we had a particularly large interest in basketball but because we, sorry I, ( as the other ladies were all marrieds and quite obviously don’t need to look) liked to check out the talent.
We began to become familiar with the basketball faces and we often bumped into players when we went out.

On the night of the Reggae Reggae beach party we bumped into one of the players. He joined us for drinks and stayed for most of the night, obviously enjoying our dynamite moves and killer wit or maybe it was our makeshift scarf limboing and shoulder rides. Whatever the reason we seemed to have a connection and I went home with him to see his villa.
His villa was very impressive. He led me outside we took off our shoes and sat by the pool, the cool water washing away the sand from the beach party as we swished our feet back and fourth.
I remember gazing at a tree whose branches swept into the pool. It was in full blossom, the pink flowers had fallen into the pool and lay scatters across the garden. I remember thinking how strange it was that a tree could be so colourful in the middle of such a bland, dry, desert.
That’s when he kissed me, I had been so lost in awe at the strange tree that I had forgotten where I was. He pulled me up and pushed me against the cool brick of the villa. Everything happened in a blur from there. We slowly worked our way upstairs. Our hands not straying far from each others bodies as we frantically undressed each other.
The next morning when we emerged from the room we found our clothes strewn across the floor. It felt like a very clichéd movie moment as we retraced our steps, reclaiming our clothes from the night before, which lay hung from the light shades, across picture frames and on the stairs.
Things were not strained or awkward, things were easy. We went out for breakfast and in the late afternoon he dropped me home. We swapped numbers and promised to be in touch.

As I saved Icarus into my phone book, I smiled. Maybe boys were not so bad after all… Maybe…

‘Waiter, you appear to have served us different menus…’

The rules of having a friend with benefits seem to be a little grey.
Partly because checked shirt guy wasn’t a friend, so really that makes him… Just a benefit?
On paper this concept sounds good but in actuality it didn’t play out as expected.

If my room had been a restaurant and the rules were our menus, we would have to complain to the manager. However in this scenario there is no management team, no waiters and no cashiers. In fact we are the only customers. There is no hierarchy for making a complaint about the inconsistencies in our menus.

In the beginning we seemed to have corresponding menus. The dishes being offered were delicious, filling and made with the customer in mind. They were exactly what the customers ordered.

However as time passed one of the menus seemed to have been redrafted and I certainly did not sign-off on this redraft. I did not enjoy the re-written edition of his menu. Frantically I searched my menu. Nope THAT was definitely not on the original version. The dishes were no longer fulfilling our appetites and no matter how many times I tried to like the chefs new creations, it just wasn’t doing the trick.

He seemed content to create a pick and mix style buffet meal where he mixed and matched his dishes. He didn’t mind that the flavours did not compliment each other.
I however am a fussy eater, I like my food to be hot, fresh and exactly what I ordered. No surprises or last minute dish alterations.

Needless to say when your restaurant only has two customers and half of the customers are not satisfied with their meals, it’s not good for business.

Within a couple of weeks the foreclosure signs had been knocked in and bags had been packed.

We both went in search of restaurants that were more finely attuned to our individual tastes. But it wasn’t a wasted dining experience. Maybe I didn’t find what I was looking for but I was now clearer on what I wasn’t looking for. Which is another step forward, right?

Checked shirt guy

One overly hot, sticky March evening I found myself amidst a small gathering of fellow British folks. We had congregated in a colleagues apartment in the vain hope that the AC and chilled beverages would serve to cool our restless souls as another work week passed almost timelessly.

Much to my horror I discovered that of all the people crammed into this apartment, there were two single people. And yup I was one of them.
Had I unintentionally stumbled upon a couples only date night? I looked around the room wondering if they were wondering why I was here. “She can’t be here, ITS COUPLES NIGHT!”

A few hours later I didn’t even notice the couples arguing over flower arrangements and china teacup patterns. I was making small talk with the only other person in the room who had also recently received the ‘plenty of fish in the sea’ speech.

But sadly there was no connection. We had two things in common:
1. We were both single and
2. We were both human.
Not exactly the material of a great love story but he took my number at the end of the night.

So unremarkable was our conversation, that the next day when we sent me a message I couldn’t even remember his name. So I saved him as checked shirt guy (because I am 50% certain that the shirt he donned that night had been checked.)(The other 50% thinks it was ow, polka dot but I totally would have remembered that, right?)

Out of politeness I text back but mentally I had already put him in the discard pile.

His personality certainly hadn’t been memorable but maybe he had other means of being memorable that I hadn’t quite experienced yet. I took him out of the discard pile and made room for him in the benefits pile.

Why had I been taking baby steps into singleton when I should have been leaping? I was slowly learning how to be single and it was going to be a steep learning curve.

A friend of a friend

At the end of March 2012 it was finally spring break. We had two weeks off to enjoy the sun. Friends and family flew over to visit their loved ones staying in Doha.
Jane and her husband Marty had a good friend visiting them. We will call him Bill. He was looking into job opportunities in the Middle East and was out for 2 weeks. I barely registered that he was there for the first 10 days. But one evening he joined Jane and I for drinks at a local bar.
Jane and Bill reminisced of stories from their University days and we laughed fondly at our younger selves and how far we had come. Before too long last orders had been called and we suddenly realised just how drunk we were. In true British fashion we decided that fast food would aid as our fool proof, preventative measures for a hangover cure.
We arrived at Janes apartment feeling merry but fairly confident that we had found the cure for the common hangover.
Jane made her sleepy good nights and made her merry way to bed. I began to walk towards the door but without even thinking and fuelled by the alcohol I turned to bill and said with a sly smile, “aren’t you coming?”
He didn’t need to be asked twice.

It turns out the fast food may provide the cure for hangovers but unfortunately it does nothing to conquer the morning after the night before awkwardness.
Luckily the awkwardness did not last long, partly because the awkwardness grabbed his clothes and left within two minutes. ( He had to get home before Jane and Marty realised he was AWOL.) It turned out that he was locked out of the apartment anyway, not exactly the next Einstein but he was a good guy.
Things weren’t really awkward between us, in fact when he went back to England we spoke everyday and by the time he finally moved out to Doha in September we were really close friends.

We never became anything more than friends but it was good to have someone from the guys team to help decode the mixed signals given out by the selection of ‘men’ I dated once I arrived. He did, after all, have the inside perspective and sometimes his advice was valuable. But don’t tell him I said that…