Page 35 of Date with Destiny

It’s true, we do. We decided to do our rounds all at once when we got here. And because the bar was busy, we all bought four drinks per person. We still have, like eleven warm pints on our table.

The twenty-something looks excited. ‘Oh, you’re an actual Irish!’ he accuses Myfanwy, who rolls her eyes.

‘No, I’m Welsh,’ she says and he looks sceptical.

‘Nah,’ he shakes his head, glancing around at his ladz ladz ladz. ‘Don’t try and fool me, I know Welsh ain’t real. You’re Irish, that’s an Irish accent!’

Toni leans in, more used to dealing with men of this age group. ‘No really!’ she smiles sweetly. ‘Myfanwy’s from Wales.’

The boy laughs. ‘Babe, that is well cute, but I know you’re just flirtin’. I did go to school y’know! I did my SATs and everything. So IknowWales is that mythical place in the ocean where the mermaids live.’

I frown. ‘Are you confusing the animal whales with… but how do you get to mermaids from…’

Toni turns to Myfanwy. ‘Is that true?’

Myfanwy smiles tightly. ‘Yes, of course! I used to be a mermaid but then a sea witch, also from Wales, gave me legs and encouraged me to move to England where I would meet a prince and lots of micro-xenophobia.’

‘Was the sea witch from SwanSEA?’ I ask, trying not to laugh.

We both snort, while Toni looks surprised. ‘Wasshe?’

The boy and his ladz ladz ladz are getting impatient now. ‘All right then,’ their leader says. ‘If you’re really from Wales, say something in your foreign language.’

Myfanwy sighs. ‘I can’t speak Welsh.’

‘No!’ he rolls his eyes exaggeratedly, like she is dumb. ‘I said say something in the Wales language.’

‘Right,’ Myfanwy says slowly. ‘Sorry, the mer-language. Actually, they did send me to school to learn Wel- sorry,Mer-glish, but I’ve forgotten it all.’ She pauses. ‘Apart from the word coch, which means red. And I only remember that because it sounded like a naughty word.’

The boy looks awed. ‘Wow,’ he says. ‘You reallyarefrom Wales!’

‘Wow,’ agrees Toni, staring in the same impressed way at Myfanwy, who is nodding sagely.

‘I really am.’

‘Anyway,’ the boy says breezily. ‘Speaking of which, does anyone fancy a shag? Asking for me or any of my bros.’ He waves at the ladz ladz ladz, who are all smiling hopefully, apart from one who is distracted, picking something out of his teeth.

God! Dating hasn’t gotten any better than it was in my twenties, then. I thought the new generation would be much better at all of this. I thought they’d be smoother and cooler, with fewer idiotic men embarrassing themselves in the vain hope of a fumble. Is this what the dating market looks like? Is this what I’m supposed to embrace? What I’m supposed to throw myself into for the next few years? Are these kinds of men my only option now I’ve lost Daniel?

Well, no bloody thank you. I will avoid the whole thing and eventually Daniel will come to his senses and marry me. That’s it. Final word on the subject.

An hour later, I find myself snogging the boy.

His name is Matt and he’s actually very sweet. Dumb as a rock, but he totally has depth. I found out he likes painting! Rooms and landscapes! And he has an old motorbike he’s doing up with his dad. I don’t ask how old his dad is because I have a feeling we’d be quite close to being peers. And the main thing I found out is that he is a great kisser and he really fancies me.

We pull apart at last in our dark corner, saliva all over the place; hands all over the place. ‘I’ll be back in a bit,’ I gasp at him, staggering back towards Myfanwy and Toni and flopping down. ‘I feel like a teenager!’ I giggle happily.

‘That might be because you were literallyfeelinga teenager?’ Myfanwy points out, smiling widely.

‘I know!’ I swig from the nearest glass of alcohol. ‘But it was great. I miss snogging. I haven’tjustsnogged someone in so many years.’

‘To snogging!’ Toni waves her glass around, waiting to cheers and we oblige with our warm, horrible Guinness.

‘Come dance with me!’ Matt is suddenly at our table again, all wide-eyed pupils and horniness. I suspect he is on something, but he hasn’t offered me any of it. I’m relieved and also offended.

‘There isn’t a dance floor,’ I point out. ‘This is a pub.’

‘Who cares!’ he grins excitedly.

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