Page 4 of The Best Ex of My Life

Ever since we chose Classical Civilisation for A level in sixth form and realised we were the only three girls out of a teeny class of eleven, Karina, Teddy and I have been inseparable. We got each other through a lot of perving from the boys and two years of Homer’s Iliad, and we’re still looking out for each other twelve years later.

My mum’s mantra for the last five years, ever since she colossally rocked my world by divorcing Dad, is that friendships are the greatest gifts in life, not men. Mum and Dad, who ironically were friends for years before they fell in love, were careful to hide their decline from the happy marriage I remember during my childhood to them barely being able to share a space on the couch, but it was a decline steep enough to leave Mum on her own, and swearing off men for good. She’s rebuilt a life jam-packed with old friends and new, and declared herself happier than ever, but she’s done with love. My parents’ marriage might, as Karina and Teddy have pointed out on more than one occasion, be the reason I’m so adamant to only date strangers rather than anyone I’m remotely familiar with, know and like.

Teddy comes into the lounge and gives me a sad smile. People always need a little longer to take in Teddy compared to others. First there’s her curly blonde hair as thick and glossy as a John Freida model’s. Then there’s her outfit. Never one to opt for understated, Teddy has combined three patterns above the glittery Doc Martens that finish off her look. She’s the only person I know who can pull off leopard print, florals and snakeskin at the same time. As she lingers at the door to the lounge, studying me, she looks incredible.

‘Don’t worry,’ I tell her. ‘I’ll have forgotten him by the end of the night.’

‘You will. We’ll make sure of it.’ Teddy winks as she raises the bottle in her hand. Sitting down next to me, she pulls me into a haze of hair and Miu Miu.

‘I’ll be fine,’ I assure her, pulling away and getting my breath back.

‘I know. I just can’t remember the last time you were with a guy and had a good time. It’s shit.’

‘Totally shit,’ Karina agrees, coming to sit next to me on my other side.

‘I can’t either,’ I say, though I know it’s a lie.

I remember exactly when it was. One year and two days ago. Only it wasn’t a date, and I’m pretty sure that’s why it was so spectacular. The shock of it. The fact it was never meant to happen and could never have become anything more. I’ve tried hard to forget it ever since, but tucked away in the corner of my mind, hardly ever allowed to come out, is the thought that maybe that night was the reason my dating life after it has been such a disaster. Sex before had been pleasant enough. Nice. But that night I’d learned how much better than nice it could be. I almost wish it hadn’t happened, because what good can come from discovering what’s possible but never finding it again?

I won’t admit it to Karina and Teddy because to them I’ve framed what happened as a drunken mistake, but I’d be a liar to not admit that my love life has been on a downward spiral ever since. Maybe last night with Isaac was me hitting rock bottom and the next person will be that little bit better. Maybe I’ll gradually start to work my way up until I finally meet another person who makes me feel like I did that night – only better because that person will be someone I can have a future with, not someone I should never have slept with in the first place. One day, I’ll turn up to a date, get the romance, the great friendship and the amazing sex I’m after all in one, but after the men I’ve met recently it’s hard to keep believing that.

‘You know what I think you need?’ Teddy asks.

‘More vodka?’ I reply, holding up my empty glass.

‘Yes, but not just that. I think you need a break. A couple of months off from giving up your Friday nights to go to dive bars with crappy guys.’

‘I guess,’ I say without conviction.

‘No, I mean it. One day you’re going to meet someone who sees how funny and kind and adorably romantic you are, and they are going to love that about you, but you’re not finding that person online. You should do something for you instead of wasting your time.’

‘There are some decent men on those apps,’ Karina says, a duty-bound comment, given she met Ben on Tinder.

‘Easy for you to say. You have a lovely man wanting to take you out to fancy bars all the time and shower you with gifts. Before Ben, you had Marcus, who took you to Paris after what, four dates?’ I ask.

‘Three,’ Karina corrects me.

‘Exactly. You’ve got to admit it, Kar, you’re a magnet to nice men who actually want relationships. Most of my exes are idiots I never want to see again. You’ve left behind a trail of besotted, heartbroken, good men. You’re so lucky,’ I tell her.

‘Yep,’ Teddy agrees. ‘So lucky. And out of all the besotted men, Ben is by far the loveliest.’

‘Even if he does have a little bunny rabbit nose,’ I add. Teddy gives us both a curious look, which leads to Karina telling her about Ben’s fatal flaw. Four vodkas in, it takes on a new hilarity.

‘I seriously don’t know how you do it, Kar,’ Teddy says once we’ve stopped twitching our noses and laughing. ‘The last date I went on, the guy answered a phone call from his wife while his hand was on my thigh, about three centimetres away from my crotch, like it was the most normal thing in the world, and you get perfect Ben, whose worst attribute is catching a cold. If you don’t want him, you can always send him my way.’

We’ve moved from vodka to prosecco and are sitting watching Love is Blind when Ben sends a text that puts the final nail in his and Karina’s dating coffin.

‘That’s it,’ she says, before a shudder takes over her whole body.

‘What?’ Teddy and I ask in unison.

Karina holds out her phone and shows us a selfie of Ben pulling a sad, pouty face, his huge puppy dog eyes dominating the screen above his bright red nose. He’s typed the words ‘Miss youuuuu’ in red over his forehead. We explode into a fit of laughter, knowing how Karina is going to take this.

‘I give up,’ Karina says. ‘We’re done. He’s all yours, Teddy.’

‘Awww, he’s adorable,’ I tell her in a child-like voice, enjoying winding her up way too much.

‘Bless him,’ Teddy agrees, her eyes shining with amusement. ‘So sweet.’