‘I really am going to have to ask you to piss off,’ Daniel said to Lorenzo as he poured boiling water into his favourite Arsenal mug. ‘I am not reading a dating guide. Absolutely not.’
He manoeuvred around his flatmate to the fridge, pulling out the plastic carton of milk and doing a double take as he realized that it was weirdly light. He looked at it, pointedly, sighing dramatically.
‘Lorenzo, did you put an empty milk carton back into the fridge?’
Lorenzo looked from the carton to Daniel’s raised eyebrows.
‘It’s an emergency stash day,’ Lorenzo said with a shrug, opening the drawer where they kept the single-portion pots of UHT milk that they made a game of stealing from hotels and buffet breakfasts. Daniel wasn’t sure how it had begun, but there was now a specific drawer for them, for these long-life UHT milks, which had more recently come to involve UHT milk sachets too.
‘There’s a trend for them,’ Lorenzo had acknowledged knowingly once, as he returned from a weekend wedding in Edinburgh with ten sachets. ‘The sachets are much easier to open. More environmentally friendly too.’
Some weeks they didn’t buy proper milk at all, living off the UHT drawer. What was weirder was that Daniel and Lorenzo didn’t even really talk about it. It was just a thing that they did. No milk in the fridge? Time for the milk drawer, then. It normally happened at the end of the week, on a Friday, so at least today they were consistent with their milk-buying inconsistencies.
By way of a mild apology it was an easy-open sachet that Lorenzo handed over now. Daniel took it, shaking his head. It felt like there was a ‘Joey and Chandler’ dynamic between them sometimes – and that probably wasn’t a good thing.
‘I’m just saying, have a glance at it,’ Lorenzo said, taking a milk sachet for himself and ripping it open with his teeth. He drank it down, on its own, in one gulp.
‘It’s for girls!’ Daniel said. ‘Presumably girls who want to pick up boys! I don’t want to pick up boys!’ He held his tea by the rim of the mug, deciding it was too hot and switching it to the other hand to hold by the handle. ‘If I was a girl picking up boys it looks like a mighty fine book, but as I am not, I shall proceed on my own, book-free,’ he said, adding defensively, ‘I don’t need a book to tell me how to chat a woman up.’
Lorenzo picked up the copy of Get Your Guys! from the table where he’d left it out for Daniel the night before.
‘All I’m saying,’ Lorenzo intoned, ‘is that everyone at work was equally as sceptical as you, except the woman who commissioned it. And one by one, she passed it out to the 5 girls on the staff and, one by one, they all had stories about trying what –’ he glanced down at the front cover to remind himself of the author’s name ‘– Grant Garby says, and now most of them are engaged.’
‘But,’ Daniel said, closing his eyes as if very, very tired. ‘They are women. Hitting on men.’
Lorenzo shook his head. ‘Well, you see, I thought I should take a look at it, you know, as research, and it is my job to PR books, even if I wasn’t PR-ing this one. Know the market and all that. And he’s fucking genius. Grant Garby. He has this whole YouTube series and everything. It’s been a slow grower, but since it came out and word has spread, he’s sold like, one hundred thousand copies. Chicks swear by him, but he reckons blokes should be reading his stuff too.’
Daniel finished his tea and put the empty mug in the sink, where it would live for two days until he’d finally cave in over his dishwasher stand-off with Lorenzo and empty it himself, thus making room for a kitchen full of dirty crockery and the whole cycle could start over again.
‘Why do you need help hitting on women? It’s literally the only thing you’re good at.’
‘Rude,’ said Lorenzo, only half insulted. ‘And, my friend, this is what makes me so clever: continual practice.’
‘Continual practice.’
‘Continual practice. Christians don’t go to church once, and then say they’re Christian forever. They go to church every Sunday, to keep practising their religion. I’m no Casanova because I got lucky with girls a few times – I’m called The Closer because I practise the skills needed to be The Closer.’
‘That’s disgusting,’ said Daniel, looking at his watch. ‘Nobody calls you The Closer.’
‘I call myself The Closer.’
‘I repeat: that’s disgusting.’
Lorenzo moved to block Daniel’s exit from their shared kitchen. ‘Listen to me. I fucking care about you, man. I care that this works out for you. Okay? And I’m telling you – read the book.’
Daniel made eye contact with his friend, who instantly, in a fit of embarrassment at being so candid, looked away and moved aside. Theirs wasn’t an easy relationship, but Lorenzo had definitely stepped up after Daniel’s dad had died, and he figured that’s what he was getting at: that Lorenzo wanted Daniel to have something work out in his favour. Lorenzo was caring in the only way Lorenzo knew how.
Daniel took the book.
‘Fine,’ he said. ‘I’ll look at it.’
Lorenzo clapped his hands, thrilled to have charmed yet another person into bending to his will. Daniel wondered if that’s where he’d learned to do it – from the book.
‘Chapter six, buddy – that’s the one. I double dare you to try it.’
‘Chapter six,’ Daniel said. ‘Fine.’
As he travelled to work, Daniel felt like there was a huge spotlight on his backpack illuminating the fact he had a dating guide in his possession. He’d be mortified to be caught with it, and worried one wrong move could see his bag slip from his shoulder and its contents splay out for the judgement of everyone else on the underground. What if she saw it? Nadia? His paranoia was so great that he’d almost managed to convince himself that The Dating Guide police were going to search every carriage, demanding anyone with a dating guide on them step forward. He had visions of having to declare to everyone, including Nadia, that he had a hardback copy of Get Your Guys! and he’d never be able to get on the tube again. He’d got the guide to help with Nadia, but if she saw he had it he would lose her before it had even begun, he was certain.
He was relieved that she wasn’t actually on the train today.
‘My man, how’s it going today?’ Romeo asked him, as he slipped through the glass doors of his office tower.
‘I HAVE A DATING GUIDE!’ Daniel declared, desperate for somebody – anybody – to know. He couldn’t carry the guilt. He needed to be absolved.
‘Good for you!’ said Romeo, totally unfazed by Daniel’s non sequitur. That was the thing about Romeo: he was just happy to be alive, and happy that everyone else was alive too.
Daniel fumbled around in his bag, pulling it out for Romeo to see. ‘It’s called Get Your Guys!’ he said, panicked. ‘Lorenzo forced me to take it.’
‘Oh,’ said Romeo, taking it. ‘Have you got to chapter six? My sister read this and said chapter six changed her life.’
‘Chapter six? No, no, I haven’t read chapter six. I haven’t read any of it!’ Daniel shook his head. ‘I don’t need to read a dating guide!’
Romeo shrugged, thumbing through it. ‘Well then, what harm can it do?’ he said, not unreasonably. ‘If you don’t need it, why are you freaking out about having it?’
Daniel scowled. ‘I have to go,’ he said, taking the guide and slipping it into his bag again. He leaned into Romeo and lowered his voice.
‘Tell nobody,’ he said, walking off.
Waiting to find somebody you like to flirt with is like waiting to go on stage to learn your lines, chapter six told him. Daniel had sat at his desk for ten minutes before asking Percy to book him a meeting room – the most private meeting room, in the corner, where nobody would walk by its glass front on the way to somewhere else. That’s where he sat now, nursing the guide. The introduction had explained that it was a book meant for heterosexual women, but that in actual fact Grant Garby worked with men as well, because at the root of all connection is humanness, and we are all human.
Except for Lorenzo, Daniel thought darkly, which in turn made him feel guilty.
Chapter six was basically a long list of tips on how to flirt, and what’s more, how to flirt with strangers. Daniel was engrossed, in spite of himself.
When you haven’t dated in a while, it can become easy to think that there is a dearth of men out there to date, the book said. But opportunity to make friends out of strangers is everywhere – you just have to have the nerve to talk to them.
The first tip was simple: make eye contact. Daniel weighed this up. Catching the eye of people was actually quite a bold thing to do: typically, Daniel would keep his head down and get to where he was going, barely conscious of who might be around him on the way. Wasn’t that … normal?
Okay. I can do that, Daniel thought to himself. Eye contact. Easy.
He slipped the book onto the chair beside him, piling some papers he’d brought with him on top of it, and flipped the sign on the meeting door to ‘occupied’.
He headed for the staff kitchen at the far end of his floor. The book was right – his instinct was to keep his eyes fixed on his shoes as he walked, or maybe firmly ahead, on his destination. The book had asked how friendly this must make him seem, or how approachable. Valid point, Daniel reflected. Okay. He got to the kitchen, pretended to look for something for a minute, decided on getting a glass of water, and then turned on his heel, heading back towards the meeting room – but this time at a slower pace. He forced himself to let his eyes roam, which felt vulnerable and exposing. But then his gaze met Meredith’s, a perky thirty-something who had a similar role to him, but on a different team.
Gah! thought Daniel, looking away quickly. Eye contact!
The book had said to smile, to not be afraid to acknowledge the other person, and maybe say hello. That in itself wasn’t a radical idea – essentially Grant Garby was advocating politeness – but it felt exposing. Like holding up a sign that said ‘Single and Looking’, which was a turn-off, wasn’t it? Daniel kept walking. He sneaked a glance over his shoulder, but Meredith had gone. At least she wasn’t staring after him, thinking what a freak he was.
Okay, the next person I make eye contact with I will smile at, Daniel coached himself. He looked up to Percy staring at him. Daniel smiled broadly.
‘What are you doing?’ Percy said.
‘I am … smiling,’ said Daniel.
‘Why are you walking up and down the office like you’ve only just realized you’ve got legs?’
‘No,’ said Daniel. ‘I’m not, erm … I’ll …’
Percy looked at him, trying to understand what Daniel wasn’t saying. Meredith walked past them both then, and coyly said, ‘Hey Daniel,’ as she went by.
‘Hey,’ said Daniel, to the back of her head. She turned around and looked at him over her shoulder, and then she was gone.
Percy looked at Daniel and back to Meredith.
‘Weird,’ he said, under his breath, moving to answer a ringing phone.
Daniel went for his lunchtime walk to the market with the sole purpose of Making Eye Contact. He’d not even done it properly with Meredith – he’d forgotten to smile! – but she’d made a point of seeking him out to say hello later. Daniel understood the idea behind it now – if he could practise being brave around women, when it came to finally talking with Nadia he could be more sure he wouldn’t screw it up. Making eye contact and smiling at strangers – and, chapter six said, finding the courage to make chit-chat with strangers too – was all a way of building the Flirting Muscle, so that it was strong for the person who might go on to mean something.
It’s like the gym, but for flirting, Grant Garby had written, and Daniel was starting to see why his book had sold so many copies. It wasn’t radical. It was a really well-reasoned argument for putting yourself out there in a way that was natural and well-meaning.
Daniel held his chin high, almost demented in his quest for eye contact as he walked to the burrito place. It wasn’t until he held the eye of other people that he realized, once again, how often he didn’t. And it was incredible, the effect that it had on people. He could see women – and he didn’t discriminate between younger or older, conventionally attractive to him or not – respond immediately to him. Nobody shied away or accused him of being a pervert or chased him off, waving their handbag at his head. It felt friendly. He wasn’t being sleazy or gross, just friendly. The way these women smiled back at him made Daniel feel like the most popular guy in London. There was a bravery to seeing people, but a bravery to letting himself be seen too. Making eye contact was like taking up space in the world, and to take up space he had to believe he was worth the space. He’d never thought of himself as shy, but the eye-contact thing was making him feel confident, and he definitely hadn’t felt that way for a while.
Fine. Chapter six. You were right, Daniel texted to Lorenzo.
Yes mate!!!! Lorenzo pinged back. Have you done the ‘asking advice’ bit yet? It fucking works every time!
Then, after a second, Lorenzo also said: If you need emergency condoms because of this, my side table near my bed is always packed with them. Extra-large tho.
Daniel knew what Lorenzo was talking about – about the advice, not the condoms. Daniel could source his own condoms, should he need any. Which wasn’t the point of today. Today was just about exploring this confident feeling. He liked it. He liked how confidence felt.
The book suggested that the way to move from a smile to talking to a stranger was best practised in a queue at a café. The book said to ask the person behind you a question, like which cupcake flavour to pick, because you couldn’t decide – thus opening up the floodgates of possible conversation.
It’s an invitation to get talking, the book decreed, with no obligation to keep going on either part. If you turn to the man behind you and say, ‘Would you get the lemon or the chocolate? I can’t decide,’ he can answer the question and that’s it. Or, he can answer the question and you can use it as a way to rank muffin flavours, or the merits of frosting. Initiating conversation doesn’t mean you are proposing marriage, it simply means you are a person capable of chit-chat, of connecting. And if it doesn’t work, that’s not because you aren’t worthy: it’s because the other person didn’t want to chat. That’s all. So try again.
The book also said chit-chat was a great time to introduce some light teasing too. If he answers blueberry, don’t be afraid to tell him, ‘Oh, it would never work out between us! Who chooses blueberry when chocolate is on offer?’ It plants the seed that there could be an ‘us’, and challenges him to act, if he is interested. Suddenly he might declare, ‘Well hey! Don’t write me off that easily!’ and then, before you know it, he’s asking for your phone number.
Daniel wasn’t sure about the mind games behind that, but he was willing to try, since even simple eye contact had made him feel more prepared for coming face to face with Nadia. He stood in line for his burrito behind two women in suits, presumably from one of the offices near his own. It was about a half square mile of offices, including, somewhere, Nadia’s.
Daniel scrutinized the board. A burrito was a burrito, so there weren’t many options to have to choose from. He’d have to pick between meat or veggie mince, or perhaps ask for an extra side of sour cream.
The queue pushed forward. There was one bloke in front of the women, and it would quickly be their turn. He had to say something soon, else he’d lose his chance, and then what? He’d rejoin the back of the queue so he could work up his courage with somebody else? No. That was weird. The book said this was all supposed to be super natural, super chill. Whatever, man. It’s all good.
He ended up leaning towards the women in front of him and saying, ‘So what do you think, ladies? Avocado or extra avocado?’
They didn’t hear him, and carried on talking. The taller woman said to her shorter companion, ‘You see, that’s why you have to get them heeled before you wear them. It’s like high-heel insurance.’
‘That’s so smart,’ the other woman said. ‘I shouldn’t cut corners.’
Daniel coughed a little, involuntarily.
‘What do you think?’ he tried again, making his voice a little louder this time. ‘Avocado,’ he said, even louder, ‘or extra avocado?’
One of the women turned around and looked from Daniel to the extra space beside him. It looked like he was talking to himself.
‘Oh,’ said Daniel realizing. ‘No, I …’
The woman turned back around. Daniel stared at the back of her head.
‘DO YOU THINK I SHOULD GET EXTRA AVOCADO?’ he bellowed, at which both women turned around.
The women looked at each other, the penny dropping that he was talking to them.
‘Or … just a … normal amount?’ Daniel squeaked, his palms suddenly sweaty and his face colouring purple.
Slowly, her eyes darting confusedly from side to side, the taller woman said, ‘Well, do you really like avocado?’
Daniel nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘Get extra then,’ she said, to which Daniel issued a sort of pffffffft noise between his lips.
‘Extra avocado? Wow. I could never date you, then,’ he said, before he even really knew what he was saying.
‘Excuse me?’ the taller woman said. Daniel’s mouth flapped open and closed like in Finding Nemo. ‘Date me? I’m three feet taller than you and about six times as hot. A date isn’t really on the cards, is it?’
Daniel just stood there, wishing desperately that he could simply turn on his heel and run, forever, until he reached Greenland.
‘What an arsehole,’ the shorter woman said, shaking her head and steering the elbow of her friend so they both turned back around, before stepping forward to give their order.
Daniel cast his gaze around him, humiliated, figuring out if anyone had witnessed what had happened. He didn’t mean to say that – to be unhinged that way. He panicked! It was his first time trying out the advice! It had all nose-dived! A teenager sat by the window eating his food looked away quickly as Daniel turned his head. His shoulders were shaking slightly, like he was laughing at him. Daniel lowered his eyes so that he didn’t have to look at the women as they left. The shorter woman barged into his shoulder as they passed. Daniel let her.
‘What can I get you?’ the man behind the counter said.
‘Meat burrito,’ Daniel replied, quietly. ‘Extra avocado. Thanks.’
‘Hey, is this yours?’ Percy said, as Daniel walked back through into the office. He was holding up a copy of Get Your Guys!
Daniel stuttered slightly. ‘Mine? No. No way. Absolutely not.’
Percy looked confused. ‘It’s just it was in with your things in the meeting room,’ he said. ‘Meredith found it.’
‘Meredith found it,’ Daniel repeated.
Percy smirked.
‘No idea who it belongs to,’ Daniel said, striding past Percy’s desk and towards his own. ‘None at all.’
‘Sure,’ Percy said. ‘Well, I’ll leave it in my out-tray in case you change your mind,’ he added.
Daniel scrunched up his face. ‘I won’t,’ he said, accidentally giving the game away. ‘It’s shit.’
He silently lamented that he hadn’t just stuck to what he knew worked: writing notes in the newspaper. He was much slicker in writing than in faux-flirting. He sat down at his desk, pulled up the submission box for Missed Connections, and began to type.