Page 7 of Wish You Were Here
To be fair, it was mainly replaceable things like toiletries, condiments, a few shirts, a suit, and a few hundred pounds I had in a drawer for emergencies that mysteriously vanished around the time we broke up. She also used my Netflix password for six months before I realised.
‘And there was Ruth,’ says Flatmate Simon.
Okay, fine, he had me with Ruth. After I moved to London and started working, I met Ruth. At first, she seemed like the perfect girl. She had moved from Manchester to London on a graduate scheme like me, seemed lovely and we started going out. We had so much in common, and I really thought she might be it. There was just one slightly strange thing about Ruth. She went back to Manchester every weekend, which I thought was odd at first, but she loved her family and missed them terribly. It wasn’t until we had been going out for nearly eight months that I found out the real reason she had been going back to Manchester every weekend was to see her daughter. I don’t think I would have minded her having a child if she had been upfront about it from the start, but she had lied, and her daughter was still living with her ex-boyfriend. A month after we broke up, she moved back to Manchester and married her ex.
‘My relationship radar has been a little off,’ I say.
‘A little off?’ says Will. ‘It’s been broken for a decade, mate. Liars, thieves and narcissists.’
‘What do you suggest?’ I say.
A blanket of quiet nestles across the group until Hugh says suddenly.
‘Let us find you a girlfriend! You’ve had no luck finding a girlfriend for yourself. So let us do it for you!’
‘Yes!’ says Poppy. ‘Leave your love life in our hands.’
‘I love it!’ says Abigail.
‘I’m in,’ says Flatmate Simon.
‘Me too,’ says birthday boy Will.
‘You’re telling me that I have to leave my romantic fate in the hands of you lot?’
‘Yes!’ everyone says in unison, and with that ‘The Plan’ is set in motion.
Hugh tells everyone that they must use whatever is at their disposal to find me a love match. Friends, friends of friends, people at work, neighbours, fellow commuters and girls on electric scooters. Whatever it takes, they must scour London from north to south, east to west, until they find me the perfect woman. Perhaps tonight isn’t going to be the drunken spectacle it once was when Will turned twenty, but at least my friends and family are still there for me. Although the thought of leaving the fate of my love life with them is terrifying to say the least.
We continue eating, sipping our cocktails, and Will is telling us about the hike to the top of Ben Macdui, when a figure approaches our table, and when we look across, Saffy is standing there – looking absolutely fucking furious.
‘So, this is you getting over me, is it?’ says my disgruntled ex-girlfriend Saffy.
‘Saffy, hi. What are you—’
‘Doing here?’ she hisses, and I stand up, wiping my mouth with my napkin. ‘I still have ‘find my phone’ Ben. Remember when we were a couple, and you cared where I was? Well, I cared where you were too.’
‘I don’t think I agreed to that, did I?’
‘I didn’t agree with you breaking up with me either! You know you’re going to be miserable without me, don’t you? I amliterally the best thing that has ever happened to you, and I hope you spend the rest of your miserable fucking life regretting the decision to let me go because I am fucking awesome, Ben. FUCKING AWESOME!’
Then, for a moment, we all wait in silence because we’re all stunned, but then something even more shocking happens. Saffy reaches down, picks up a ball of burrata cheese from our table and then she hurls it at me! Unfortunately for me, despite clearly being in the grips of some sort of insanity, Saffy is a decent shot and the burrata missile hits me square in the face, exploding and then the cheesy burrata juice slides down my face and onto my shirt. It’s at this moment that the restaurant staff sense what is going on and approach Saffy.
‘Don’t worry, I’m leaving. But before I go, Ben, I have one thing to say to you. You were the worst fuck of my life with the tiniest dick I have ever seen!’ screams Saffy, and everyone in the restaurant is looking over at us – it doesn't help that Flatmate Simon is laughing – but fortunately the staff are closing in on her.
‘Smaller than my little finger!’ shouts Saffy, wiggling her little finger in the air, before one of the staff members launches themselves at her, but she wriggles free and starts running out of the restaurant. ‘Micro-penis bastard!’
Saffy is gone, and we are all left completely and utterly stunned, until Will says with a straight face.
‘I was literally just about to eat that piece of burrata.’
Will, Poppy and Hugh have said goodnight, and I am in a black cab with Flatmate Simon and Abigail on our way towards Shoreditch, when my phone buzzes with a notification. I have a new email waiting for me. I open my phone, go to my work email, reading it quickly in confusion.
Dear Ben Armstrong,
My name is Saskia Conway, and I believe you sent me an email in error. My name is Saskia Conway, but I don’t think I am the Saskia Conway you intended to send the email to. I do live in Sydney, but do not have any interest in a buy to rent opportunity in Wapping. Many thanks for thinking of me, though.
All the best,
