The Ex-Boyfriend's Handbook Read Free Page A

‘Really?’
    I take Jane’s note out again and stare at it, searching for clues, until Dan reaches across, takes it from me, and wordlessly slips it back into his pocket. Suddenly, my despair turns to resentment at the way she’s just dismissed ten years in less than ten sentences. I find the photo of her and me in my wallet, and throw it angrily onto the table.
    ‘Bloody cheek! “ You’ve let yourself go ”. Hardly. I mean, we’re all a little heavier than we were at college.’
    Dan pats his stomach proudly. ‘I’m not.’
    ‘You wouldn’t be. I mean us normal people. I’m not that different to how I used to look, surely?’
    Dan opens his mouth as if to mention something, then thinks better of it, and stands up.
    ‘Hold on a sec.’
    He walks over to the other side of the pub, removes a clip-framed photograph from the montage between the toilet doors, and puts it down on the table in front of me. It’s of the three of us at a fancy-dress party here at the Admiral Jim last December. Jane, courtesy of a blonde wig, white charity-shop evening dress, and a not inconsiderable amount of padding, is dressed as Marilyn Monroe. She’s pouting at the camera, flanked by Dan and me, him all teeth and daytime-TV tan in his no-effort-required James Bond dinner suit. I’m brandishing a plastic sword, and squeezed into the Roman legionnaire’s outfit I’d bought from Woolworth’s toy section in desperation late that afternoon.
    Dan eventually stops admiring himself in the photo, and squints at my outfit.
    ‘Who were you supposed to be again?’
    ‘Russell Crowe. You know, in Gladiator !’
    ‘Russell Crowe?’ laughs Dan. ‘You look more like Russell Grant. In a mini-skirt!’
    I snatch the picture away from him and stare at it crossly. ‘It was a child’s outfit. Of course it didn’t fit properly.’
    Dan passes me the college photo and urges me to compare the two. ‘Even so, mate. You’ve got to admit that you’ve put on a few pounds over the years.’
    I stare at the two images in disbelief. It’s like one of those ‘before’ and ‘after’ adverts you see in the Sunday supplements for the latest miracle exercise machine. Except the wrong way round.
    ‘Well, I’m just a little more cuddly. In fact that’s what she calls…I mean, used to call me. Cuddly Teddy.’
    Dan grimaces. ‘Pass the sick bucket. Too much information, mate.’
    ‘It’s true. In fact, she used to say that I was improving with age. Like a good wine,’ I say, nodding towards Dan’s glass.
    ‘Well, trouble is, now she obviously thinks you’re corked.’
    ‘Ha bloody ha, Dan. Very funny.’
    I sip my pint silently for a few moments, before Dan awkwardly clears his throat.
    ‘Seriously, though. There could be a reason why you’ve “let yourself go”.’
    I nearly spit out my mouthful of beer. ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘You know, stopped making the effort. Put on all this weight. Started dressing like the airline’s lost your luggage.’
    ‘Dan, I know what you were getting at by the phrase “let yourself go”. I meant “what was the reason?”.’
    Dan takes a deep breath. ‘Well, here’s me, and obviously I have to look as good as I do for my job…’
    ‘Mind your head on the ceiling.’
    ‘…but I also like to look like this because I want women to be attracted to me.’
    ‘Yeah, but that’s just vanity. Selfishness.’
    Dan shakes his head. ‘It’s not a selfish thing. Quite the reverse, in fact.’
    ‘I don’t understand. How can that not be selfish?’
    ‘Because, if you think about it, I don’t actually do it for me. I do it for other people. Women. Whereas what you’re doing is selfish.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Because I care about how other people see me, therefore I care about other people. You, on the other hand, are saying “I don’t mind how I look. I’m just going to suit myself”. And I’m afraid that that attitude has the opposite effect where women are concerned. It repels