Page 31 of Did My Love Life Shrink in the Wash?
‘Ten weeks.’
He scans my face trying to work out what I looked like before this. I didn’t look as bloated for a start. And I’d have taken greater care with my eye make-up and hair.
‘My wife is eight months pregnant with our first.’
I smile at the fact he wants to share this with me though I’m pretty sure I act as some sort of advisory warning.
‘When I met you in the queue I realised I didn’t know what a breast pad was. This baby is going to be here in a month and I don’t know half of what I need to,’ he tells me, panicked. ‘And I’m standing in the queue searching down punters and thinking are Lil’s boobs going to leak milk the whole time? Like, how does she switch them off?’
‘They’re not taps.’
‘Yeah, I googled that on my break and found that out. Did you know men can lactate too? If you stimulate their nipples enough?’
‘Will hasn’t got round to that yet.’
He laughs. ‘Will, is he your husband?’
‘Boyfriend. We’ve never sealed the deal, as it were.’
‘And the baby’s name?’
‘Joe.’
‘Do you have a picture?’
I reach down in my bag for my phone, scrolling through my photo roll. It’s all Joe. I have no other recent pictures except one I sent Will of a double sausage and egg McMuffin I bought about a fortnight ago, and a few dozen memes that I seem to collect to try and spice up my social media.
The bouncer’s face softens to see Joe on my screen. It’s a shot where he’s just woken up and his bedhead is whipped up like a mass of fur.
‘Wow, he’s very cute.’
‘Thank you.’
He scrolls through a few more photos, smiling at them all. That’s the thing about baby pictures. We take them when the baby is cute, when he’s smiling and just woken up or covered in food and mess, revelling in the adorability. We don’t have photos of them crying, crimson with wind and discomfort and covered in barf. I’m selling him the cute side of parenting, though maybe that’s what he needs instead of worrying about how he can try and milk himself.
‘So this is your first night out since having the baby?’ he asks.
‘That’s why you let us in, isn’t it?’
‘You both look like you needed it. How’s your evening going?’
‘I fell asleep.’
He smiles. He scans across to Will, almost angry with him. But Will needed this as much as me. He needed to relax and let loose. I don’t want him babysitting me or holding my hand. And maybe one of us needs to get something out of this evening. I wish our first night out together was more fun, easier, with not so douchey people but it’s just one night. I see him jumping about, joyous, happy.
‘Can I get you anything? A hot drink? A cushion?’ the bouncer asks.
‘You make me sound like your grandmother.’
He laughs again.
‘Just tell that group of girls to do one.’
‘I’ll them you’re famous. You look like Keira Knightley.’
I look at him like he’s been the one drinking. ‘If she’d eaten all the pies.’
He gives me a look, almost angry at my need to self-deprecate, then hands my phone back to me. A message from Emma flashes up. It’s a picture of a very sleepy Joe, his hand tucked under his face. It makes my heart hurt. Or maybe that was my boobs.
