Page 38 of The Love Hack

‘So how’s Adam?’ he asked. ‘Solved any notable bloke problems this week?’

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘There was a guy whose girlfriend dumped him because she said he was rubbish in bed.’

‘Oooof. What did you tell him?’

‘That he probably was, and he should quit watching porn and download a diagram of female anatomy before he tries dating again.’

Glancing sideways, I saw Ross’s eyes widen. ‘Seriously? That’s a bit harsh.’

‘Okay, I didn’t. I told him people often say hurtful things at the end of a relationship, because they’re hurting themselves, and only he knew how much truth there was in what she said. But I told him he should take this as a teachable moment and think about whether he was selfish or overly demanding, and try not to make the same mistakes again.’

‘Okaaaay,’ he said. ‘You know what? It sounds like you’re getting good at this.’

‘I try my best,’ I acknowledged modestly.

By then we’d reached the pub, and everyone filed in.

‘G and T, Simon?’ Marco asked. ‘Pint of Guinness, Ross? Orange juice and lemonade, Chiraag?’

They all nodded, seeing no reason to deviate from their usual Friday routine.

‘Let’s grab a table,’ Barney said. ‘They’ll be ages at the bar, look at that queue.’

‘What can we get you, Lucy?’ Ross asked. It might have been the dim light in the bar, but I could have sworn he was blushing again.

‘White wine, please.’

’Sauvignon or chardonnay?’

‘Uh… chardonnay. Thanks, Ross.’

Should I, as the newcomer, have offered first? For a second I felt myself shrivelling up inside. But no one seemed to think anything was wrong. So after a bit I relaxed, took a sip of my wine and even ate some of the cheese and onion crisps Marco had bought.

‘So, anyone got any good plans for the weekend?’ Neil asked.

I opened my mouth, wondering if I was going to have to invent another date somewhere fancy, but was rescued by Chiraag getting in first, with a long explanation of the triathlon training session he was doing. He went into a whole load of detail about intervals and VO2 max and slow-release carbohydrates, and under normal circumstances I’d have tuned him out.

Now, though, I remembered the letter I'd received earlier in the week, from Mark in Sheffield. My initial instinct had been to tell him to stop being so selfish, see things from his wife’s point of view, and put his Iron Man ambitions aside until his children were older.

I shifted up closer to Chiraag and leaned in to hear what he was saying over the background hubbub of voices and clinking glasses, even though it meant turning my back on Ross and Marco.

‘My trainer’s got me doing an hour solid on the erg at home, facing a blank wall,’ he was saying. ‘No telly, no tunes, nothing. She reckons it’ll build mental strength.’

‘God, that sounds awful,’ I commented.

Chiraag looked at me like I was the last person he'd have expected to express an opinion. ‘You know, it is and it isn’t. It's pretty brutal at the time, I’m not gonna lie. But afterwards I feel amazing – until it’s time for my ice bath, that is – and even during it…’

‘During it, what?’

‘This is going to sound all kinds of wanky, but bear with me. There are moments when it's almost… I dunno. Meditative? Like it’s just me and my body and there’s no space to even think.’

‘Wow.’

He grinned, ducking his head and taking another sip of his OJ and lemonade. ‘Told you it was wanky.’

‘It’s not. It’s really interesting. How did you get into it?’

He did the thing with his head again, and I waited for him to speak. It was almost like he was trying to decide whether to give me the TL;DR version or the real deal.

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