Page 114 of A Night with Damien Spur

‘How’s the love life?’ Justin asked.

‘Nada.’ Damien swiped his finger round the edge of the empty bowl and sucked it.

***

Not that the AA meetings, three times weekly, which had been intrinsic to his recovery, weren’t also a potential source of interesting material… He had seen quite a few attractive women, who like him were there to grasp the handle on their lives.

And then, one Sunday in June, there she was. A wisp of a woman, all legs and arms, short blonde boyish hair, a cherub face with her pillowy Cupid mouth and cooey blue eyes, looking for a spare chair. The Marylebone AA meetings were always packed.

Okay, here we go. Don’t rush it with the new girl, said the Voice.

‘Like mine?’ said Damien.

He stood up and offered her his seat.

She looked in her late twenties and gave him a sweet little smile. ‘Thanks, but I’m happy to stand at the back.’

Maybe she didn’t go for the chivalrous approach? The “new school” guys were far less accommodating, and some women seemed happy not to be given special consideration.

Damien felt old. He’d try a more matey approach after the meeting.

Would she spill the beans to the group? Alcohol? Drugs? Sex?… Maybe all three?

After each share he waited for her to tell her story, but she didn’t.

The last to speak was a well-built man with a smooth tan and good pecs wearing a bright white T-shirt and pale blue jeans. Best attire for a humid day, not like the city boys in theirdark suits and drip-dry shirts stealing time for the midweek Marylebone meet.

‘I’m Paul and I’m an alcoholic,’ the man said. ‘I started drinking when I found out that my wife was a gambler… I feel guilty because it was really my fault she started in the first place.’

Here we go… my fault, her fault, our fault. Got a feeling this is going to be boring, said the Voice.

‘A year ago, her mother died of cancer,’ the man continued, ‘and not only that, around the same time, our son had been suspended for smoking weed just when he was taking GCSEs, and our thirteen-year-old daughter was being bullied at school. What with all the domestic drama going on, our sex life had dwindled to nothing. I felt like the invisible man. She hardly said hello when I came home from work.’

Stop bleating and get on with it, said the Voice.It’s all about you, you, you! How you felt, Mr Selfish.

‘Anyway, one day she caught me sending a flirtatious text to a woman I met at the gym. We had an argument… I said that I’d only had a drink with her a couple of times, but she didn’t believe me. She was right… I was having an affair.’

Well, if a healthy man doesn’t get his oats… said the Voice.

‘One night I got plastered and told her the truth. I was fed up with our sexless life. She would make every excuse under the sun not to sleep with me. Headaches, feeling sick… Anyway, I promised not to see the woman again… I would change gyms. But she didn’t trust me anymore.’ He paused and, looking down at his hand, fiddled with his wedding band.

Come on, Mr Pecs. Don’t be shy. What happened next?asked the Voice.

Damien was fidgeting. He glanced behind at Blue Eyes. She looked bored. She caught his look. He winked.

‘That’s when she started gambling, online poker. And I really started drinking. At first, I didn’t worry how much money she was spending from our joint bank account because there were only small amounts going out. Well, if she felt like a bit of a flutter, why not? It wasn’t drugs… But it started to worry me when I came home after work and she’d make me dinner and then go back to her laptop. Didn’t even look at me. Just stared at the screen like a zombie.

‘Then she started going out alone in the evening. Tuesdays and Thursdays… dance classes, she said. But when she started staying out all night and hiding our bank statements, I knew something was up.’

Damien coughed and looked at his watch. One more minute to go.

‘I didn’t do online banking, didn’t trust it, so I phoned the bank. There was a withdrawal for £4K. She told me it was to pay for Botox and fillers. We had terrible rows. Shouting and screaming, which only made matters worse for the kids, for everything.

‘She finally admitted that she was going to casinos with friends. Every time she went out, I would get absolutely trolleyed at the thought that she was throwing away my money, bleeding me dry. I drank a bottle of whisky every night. How I managed to function in the day God only knows. But I did.

‘Last week I’d finally had enough. I waited up for her till five o’clock in the morning. I was well and truly pissed and as soon as she walked through the door I hit her. I’ve never hit a woman in my life, and that was my wake-up call. When I sobered up, we made a pact. She would go to Gamblers Anonymous and I would go to AA.’

Well, I must say the last bit was pretty dramatic, said the Voice.

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