Page 41 of The Love Hack

‘Right, okay.’ But I wasn’t ready for our conversation to end just yet. ‘What’re you going to have?’

‘Probably pizza.’ He still wasn’t smiling.

‘Good shout. What flavour?’

‘Ham and pineapple, most likely.’ Now there was the faintest shadow of his usual grin, like he’d forgiven me for whatever I’d said wrong, and we were almost friends again.

‘You’re kidding. That’s my favourite too.’

‘I never said it was my favourite. It’s just usually the only sort they’ve got left on a Friday night.’

I laughed. ‘I walked right into that.’

‘And now I know your dirty secret.’ He hesitated, as if he wanted to say something else. (‘Want to come and help me eat it?’ – maybe in my wildest dreams.) ‘Bye then, Lucy. Have a fun weekend.’

‘You too. And – good chat.’

‘Good chat.’

For a brief second, I hoped he might do the fist-bump thing again, or even kiss my cheeks like Chiraag had.

But he didn’t. He just stepped towards the glass doors of the supermarket and they glided open, letting him in and a blast of refrigerated air out.

FIFTEEN

Dear Adam

I guess this is one of world’s great philosophical questions, along with ‘What is the meaning of life?’ and ‘Should you put cream or jam first on scones?’, but bear with me, because I need your help.

How do you know when a relationship is worth pursuing, and when it’s time to jump ship and look elsewhere?

I’m asking because I’m seeing this girl and on the face of it everything’s great. I like her. She’s funny, smart and sexy. But I’m not totally sure whether or not she’s my person, if you know what I mean? The thing is, when I’m with her, I don’t feel any kind of a deep connection. We have a laugh, we enjoy each other’s company, but that’s kind of it.

What does it feel like when you meet the right woman for you, and do you necessarily know? Or do relationships get better with time and the spark ignites even if it wasn’t necessarily there right from the beginning?

And if you think you’ve got that spark with someone, will they feel it too or is it sometimes a one-sided thing?

I don’t even know why I’m writing this, Adam. But I’m gonna send it anyway. Help me not be a dick.

Anonymous, London

I looked up from the email on my screen, feeling the now-familiar weight of responsibility, coupled with a prickle of annoyance, settle on me. My anonymous correspondent claimed he didn’t want to be a dick, which was very altruistic of him, but at this point it wasn’t looking good. Also, something about his email felt familiar. Had he messaged Adam before? Was there already a document in my To be answered folder from him? If so, he had a bit of a cheek emailing again. Didn’t he realise Adam was a busy man? Or were there multiple men out there going out with women who they liked but weren’t sure were quite good enough to achieve The One status? And was that a sign of man’s fundamental arrogance or of some systemic inequity in the dating world?

I knew what I wanted Adam to say to him.

Mate, if you’re not into her, you’re not into her. No point in leading her on and future-faking. The kind thing – the right thing, the only thing – to do is let her down gently and follow your heart to the relationship you really want. Let her go – she’s not the one for you.

But then, what if I was inadvertently ending a perfectly good relationship – one that could strengthen and grow with time the way a diamond forms over years and years under the ground – and breaking two hearts, just because I could? Just because of my own cynicism and bitterness towards men, because Kieren had treated me badly and broken my heart?

I remembered the letter I’d received a couple of weeks back, from Mark, the cyclist from Sheffield. I remembered how my first instinct had been to give him the telling-off of his life and order him to stop being so self-obsessed and start being a better husband and father. And how my conversation with Chiraag had given me a totally new perspective, and I’d ended up writing a much gentler, more considered reply, asking him to think about what he was getting from all those hours out on the road, what it meant to him, whether he could have a conversation with his wife about that and help her understand, so they could reach some kind of compromise.

I’d been really proud of that answer. It had felt balanced, wise, and kind.

Now I needed to tap into that version of Adam – of myself – to respond to whoever Mr Anonymous was.

I performed my usual ritual of copying and pasting the text of the email, clearing all its formatting and saving a new document. Then I poised my fingers over my keyboard, waiting to channel Amelie, or Adam, or whatever part of me was beginning to have faith that I could actually do this, and give this man some advice that wouldn’t ruin his life.

Then my computer pinged with a Teams notification, snapping my train of thought.

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