My Secret Lover

insecurities? It’s
almost as if my mother is out there in cyberspace spookily directing the spam.
My mother is an avid silver surfer, as a matter of fact.
    Click on COMPOSE.
     
    Hi! Usual time? Usual place? L
     
    I’ve probably given the wrong
impression of my boyfriend, Andy. Is boyfriend the right word for someone who’s
over forty? We are engaged but partner sounds ridiculous if you don’t even live
together.
    Obviously we will after we’re
married, or sooner, if Honey goes. It’s awful to wish death on any living thing,
even a dog, but Honey is extremely old. I’ve always slightly suspected that
Andy popped the question because Honey was at veterinary hospital and he felt a
bit lonely. But she bounced back.
    Bounced probably isn’t the right
word.
    I ought actually to be grateful to
Honey because she was instrumental in our getting together, but ever since I
was knocked over and bitten by a boxer as a child, I am not comfortable around
dogs. I’ve noticed the world divides into people who say ‘he was only playing’
when I tell them, and people who say, ‘I can’t stand dogs either.’
    If I’m absolutely honest, I didn’t
particularly like the look of Andy when I saw him sitting in Nando’s forecourt
in the 02 Centre on Finchley Road, and I secretly wished that I’d been firmer
about just meeting for a coffee. But, as he rightly pointed out, a cappuccino
in Starbucks is almost the same price as a chicken meal, and then you haven’t
eaten.
    He was a bit more ginger than I had
expected, but I hadn’t been entirely truthful either. I expect that we were
both a bit disappointed. Which is why Nando’s turned out to be a good choice,
because if it had just been coffee we wouldn’t have had to make the effort, and
it turns out we have quite a lot in common.
    For instance, we both chose the
hottest piri piri option (I could see he was impressed by that. Men are. At
university, my popularity seemed to be largely dependent on my ability to down
the strongest vindaloo on the Star of India menu).
    Also, we both love doing quizzes.
Really. I can’t ignore a quiz. Even if it’s one about calcium designed for
five-year-old children on the back of a cereal packet. There’s still a small
buzz of satisfaction as I turn the packet upside down to read that I’ve got the
correct answers. Not if I’ve forgotten to fold down the bag inside, obviously.
    Andy is more enthusiastic about comic
operetta than my ideal date would be, but I’m more interested than he is in
Pilates, yoga and jazz dance (all classes I’ve signed up for in the last couple
of years).
    As our date progressed and I realized
that Andy’s idea of healthy living consists of holidays with the Ramblers’
Association and eating two Shredded Wheat each morning, my enthusiasm for
physical activity increased. I even managed to drop Egyptian Dancing into the
conversation. Only that I was thinking of trying it.
    I sensed that Andy was calculating
that while I wasn’t much of a looker, I would probably be quite fun in bed with
all that fitness and flexibility.
    I began to wonder whether he had hair
on his shoulders.
     
    I don’t honestly know, however,
whether we would have made it to another date, if it hadn’t been for Honey’s
incontinence. We exchanged e-mail addresses, but I would not have contacted
him, because on the tube home I convinced myself that he was a stalker. Not as
mad as it sounds, by the way, because when I got out at my stop, I caught a
glimpse of him sitting in the next carriage down, and he quickly put his Evening
Standard up in front of his face.
    Michelle reasoned that it was
perfectly possible that he lived further down the line — why else would anyone
suggest meeting on the Finchley Road? — but I thought that was too
coincidental. Admittedly, I was in the middle of the latest Nicci French.
    When Andy’s head appeared by chance
over my fence the following Sunday, I was a bit spooked. Oddly, the fact that
he had a dog, especially a lolloping old Labrador, made him seem softer,
somehow. And he was carrying a plastic glove to clear the poo up with.
    ‘You’re easily pleased,’ Michelle
said, when I told her after.
    Turns out he didn’t have hair on his
shoulders.
     
    Having a relationship makes life
easier. You don’t get the pity. There’s someone to do the barbecue if you
decide to throw a spontaneous party in summer. When the children in your class
ask you if you have a boyfriend, you can say yes, full