The Ex-Boyfriend's Handbook Part 38

Dan recovers his composure slightly, switching his TV persona back on. 'Well, I do get recognized on the street all the time.'

I nod. 'Usually by angry husbands.'

'You might have seen me on television,' he continues. 'I'm Dan Davis.'

Sam frowns. 'No, I don't think that's it.'

Dan's newly found confidence falters slightly. 'Have you ever seen Where There's a Will?'

Sam shrugs. 'I don't think so. What night's it on?'

'It's a daytime programme,' I say. 'Eleven o'clock on a Tuesday morning.'

'Oh,' says Sam. 'No, I don't watch daytime TV.'

'Because of your job?' asks Dan.

'No, because I have a life,' she replies. 'But I'm sure I've seen you somewhere before. What else have you been on?'

As Dan reels off his admittedly short television resume, Sam shakes her head, before realization dawns.

'I've got it,' she exclaims. 'You go to my waxer, don't you?'

Dan starts to go very red. 'You must be mistaken.'

'I don't think so. I never forget a face. Or a hairless pair of legs. Wax Worx. On Middle Street? I'm sure I've seen you there.'

As Dan stands there, open-mouthed, Sam winks at me. Mercifully for Dan, it's our turn at the checkout, and so I tell her I'll see her on Monday.

'Yes. See you on Monday, Edward. And nice to meet you, Don.' She grins at me, and strolls away before Dan can correct her.

As Dan watches her go, he nudges me. 'You didn't tell me how fit she was.'

'I know,' I say. 'And really strong too, for her size. She can lift-'

'No, dummy. Fit as in "wa-hey" fit. Not in the cardiovascular sense. Although she does have a great pair of lungs on her.'

'Please, Dan. She's my trainer.'

'So you're not interested in her?'

'She's helping me get Jane back. You remember Jane?'

'Well then, you won't mind if I have a crack?'

I think rapidly, trying to formulate my answer. How to say no, without making Dan feel I'd rather not see Sam suffer the usual Davis treatment. Fortunately, the cashier is asking me for my card, which gives me a few extra seconds to work out an answer. By the time I've punched in my PIN, I have it.

'Well, you're welcome to try, but I'd rather you didn't, just yet.'

Dan looks at me suspiciously. 'Why?'

'Because I'd like to finish my training first. Last thing I want is for her to desert me in my final week because she's fallen head over heels for you.'

Dan nods slowly, as if he's doing me a favour. 'Fair enough. After you've finished.'

'Oh yes. And one more thing.'

'Yes?'

'You go to a waxer?'

'Keep your voice down,' says Dan. 'And anyway, it's more of a beauty therapy place really. Manicures, facials...'

'And hair removal?'

'All right,' admits Dan. 'Hair removal. Don't forget, my job relies on me looking good, even in close up. These little touches are important. And while we're on about it...'

'What?'

'That's something else that you might want to think about.'

'What are you talking about?'

'Your eyebrows.'

'My eyebrows?'

'Or should I say "eyebrow".'

'What's wrong with it...I mean, them?'

Dan stares at my face. 'You, my friend, have a serious mon.o.brow.'

I look at my reflection in the mirror on the perfume counter. He has a point.

'What do I do about it? Shave it?'

'Get it plucked.'

'You're kidding!'

'I'm serious. A little grooming never hurt.'

I stare resignedly back at Dan's face, and notice for the first time just how regular his eyebrows are.

'And I suppose you know just the place?'

2.50. p.m.

I'm sitting nervously in the reception area at Wax Worx, surrounded by giggling women, and waiting for the appointment that Dan's made for me. I flick idly through Woman's Weekly until Joanna, the girl Dan's recommended, comes out and calls me in. As with all of Dan's therapists, she's unusually attractive and, as usual, the first thing she does is asks me how Dan is.

'Well, I think he's finally managing to beat the bottle,' I tell her.

'Dan? Really? You'd never know.'

'Happens a lot to these celebrities, apparently. But I can't really say too much about it. For obvious reasons.'

'Amazing,' says Joanna, shaking her head in disbelief. 'Anyway, what can I do for you?'

I sit down in the treatment chair. 'Dan said, well, suggested, that I have a bit of work done to my eyebrow. Eyebrows.'

Joanna peers at my forehead. 'Ah, yes. I see what he means. There is a touch of the full moon about you.'

She stares closely at me for a moment, as if she's considering the best place to start, produces a serious-looking pair of tweezers, leans in, and proceeds to pluck.

Surprisingly, it hurts. And not just a little bit. It hurts more than anything I've ever done before. It makes the way I feel after a heavy session with Sam seem like a walk in the park, and it's all I can do not to cry, though the amount my eyes are watering, you wouldn't know that I wasn't.

Noticing my discomfort, Joanna tries to rea.s.sure me.

'You'll get used to it.'

'I don't want to get used to it. Ow!' I shout, as another single hair is pulled smartly out.

'Just try and relax.'

As far as I'm concerned that's impossible, given Joanna's rapid-fire tweezer action. Besides, if you have to try and relax, well, that just makes you more anxious, surely?

Finally, mercifully, Joanna stops plucking, and hands me a mirror. When I look at my forehead, which is a little red, I'm amazed at the difference. The results are, I have to say, quite spectacular.

'What do you think?'

'Amazing. I look younger, clearer, less...'

'Less like a werewolf?'

'Exactly.'

I stare in horror at the tweezers. 'I don't know how you women manage to put up with having your legs done. Or even, you know, your other bits.'

Joanna smiles. 'You should ask your friend Dan,' she says. 'He'll tell you how it feels.'

For a moment I just stare back at her, thinking she's joking, before I cotton on.

'You're kidding? Dan?' I point to my crotch. 'Down there?'

Joanna nods. 'It's very popular nowadays. I think the guys believe it makes them look, you know, bigger.'

And for the rest of the afternoon, I can't get the phrase 'last turkey in the shop' out of my mind.

6.35 p.m.

I'm a few minutes late by the time I meet Dan on the corner of Preston Street. As usual, he's dressed to impress, rather than appropriately given the somewhat nippy spring afternoon.

'Where the b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l have you been? I've been freezing my nuts off here.'

'I'm not surprised.'

'What?'

Dan slowly puts two and two together, and goes bright red.

'b.l.o.o.d.y Joanna. I told her not to mention it.'

'Can I just ask you something?'

'Er...sure.'

'Okay. It's just...why the h.e.l.l do you pay a woman to pour hot wax all over your tackle?'

Dan grins. 'You've just answered your own question, haven't you?'

'Pervert.'

'It's the fashion.'

'The fashion? Where? On nudist beaches?'

'I've told you. I have to look good on TV.'

'Well,' I tell him, 'if there's ever a programme where you need that particular part to look good, I'm changing channels.'

7.53 p.m.

I'm back at the Metropole Hotel, without Dan this time, for my second, and hopefully last ever, speed-dating night. My hair is Fudged to within an inch of its life, my new smile has been given an extra polish, and I'm dressed in my new Paul Smith suit-without a tie, as per Milo's recommendation. I feel a little awkward being here, as it's so close to Jane's return, but on reflection, it does seem to be the best way to see if I'm 'ready'.

Emily looks up from her table when I walk into the foyer, her marker pen poised above a sticky label.

'And you are?' she asks.

That memorable, eh? 'Ed...' I get as far as the first syllable of my name before I stop myself, wondering whether I should be using a false one, but by the time I've thought of a different one to 'Dan', she's written the two letters on my name tag, and is already sticking it onto my lapel.

'Well, Ed,' she says. 'Have fun in there.'

As we file into the room, I'm a little alarmed to see some familiar faces sitting expectantly at the tables. Admittedly it's been a couple of months, plenty of time for any relationships that may have sparked off at my first time here to have been through the date-split cycle, but I suddenly feel like I'm in danger of completely shattering any confidence I may have built up over the past few weeks. These women all rejected me once-what if they do it again?

But as we wait to go to our respective chairs, something definitely feels different. I may be wrong, but a few of my fellow daters seem to be regarding me with suspicion this time, and furthermore, I notice a couple of the girls are actually smiling from behind their clipboards. At me.

I'm just trying to process this information when I spot Melanie, the Fatal Attraction girl from last time, sat in the corner. Oh great-evidently she's back for another spot of cheering up. I position myself so I'll get to her last, take a deep breath, and wait for Emily to ring the bell.