Turning Thirty Read Free Page B

twenty-nine for just over six months and had long been expecting some sort of change to come upon me now that thirty was just around the corner – the ability to grow a full beard without bald patches, my elusive wine rack, a partner for life, even – but nothing had happened. Maybe this is it, I told myself. This is my thirty-power: the ability to take the end of a relationship on the chin, like a real man.
    When I was twenty-seven this sort of thing would have upset me ( see Monica Aspel). When I was twenty-two this would have had me scurrying to bed with heart failure ( see Jane Anderson and Chantelle Stephens). But this numbness . . . this ridiculous passivity was new. But at least, if it was the gift of turning thirty, I had an excuse. Elaine, on the other hand, was still only twenty-two.
    â€˜Shouldn’t there be more . . . wailing and gnashing of teeth?’ I said, after a few moments. I passed her the cup of coffee I’d made for her earlier. ‘Shouldn’t one of us be begging the other to continue the relationship?’
    She handed her coffee back to me and got down on her knees. ‘Stay with me, Matt! We can’t split up! How will I ever live without you?’ She attempted to stand up again but was barely able to for laughing. ‘You’re right. It does feel kinda lame for me to go, “I think we should break up,” and for you to go, “Okay.”’ She laughed gently. ‘It’s not like I don’t love you,’ she said, looking at me with a mixture of earnestness and irony. ‘I do. You know I do. I can’t have been with you, made a home with you this last year and a half without loving you – that’s just . . . stupid. It’s just that, well, you must’ve felt it like I did these last six months. The passion has gone. We’ve been more like . . . I don’t know . . . brother and sister, really.’
    â€˜Peter and Jane,’ I suggested.
    â€˜Hansel and Gretel,’ she retorted.
    â€˜Donny and Marie,’ I countered.
    â€˜Exactly,’ she said, taking back her coffee. She took a moment to sip it. ‘Recently when I’ve looked at you I don’t so much want to tear your clothes off as give them a good ironing.’
    â€˜You’re right,’ I replied. ‘I mean, I love you too, but I have to admit I’m not in love with you. It’s like I’d see you first thing in the morning getting ready for work, there you’d be, searching desperately through the closet for something to wear and I’d find myself mentally dressing you with my eyes. By the time you’ve decided what to wear I have you sporting a chunky-knit polo-neck jumper, a knee-length overcoat and a scarf.’
    â€˜What do you think this all means?’ she asked, as if she genuinely wanted an answer. ‘Do you think it’s normal to be so civilised?’
    I shrugged. ‘I don’t think so. I mean, every time a relationship finishes for one of my friends at work and I ask both sides what happened they’re always like “It was mutual”, as if it’ll earn them some sort of Brownie points. But I think this is a first – the first mutual break-up in the history of the world.’
    â€˜This is spooky,’ said Elaine. ‘Where did we get this power and why didn’t I have it when I really needed it, like when I was fourteen?’ She stood up and disappeared into the kitchen to return with a packet of Oreos, which she consumed one after the other. When she was half-way through her fourth she suddenly shouted, ‘I’ve got it!’ and waved a partly consumed biscuit and its attendant crumbs over the coffee table.
    â€˜You’ve got what exactly?’
    â€˜The answer,’ she replied. ‘It’s biology. Even at a cellular level we’re programmed to perpetuate the species, right?’
    I