Page 86 of The Gin Lover's Guide to Dating

MissGinFizz:That’s probably accurate.

GrahamLeeton:Just to tick off a few more options, I’m not a (non-serial) killer, thief or con man either. Nor am I married/cohabiting/in a relationship. Just in case you were wondering.

I gasp. That’s a definite pointer. He’s offering me an ‘in’. Isn’t he? I need to grab this opportunity.

MissGinFizz:Good to know. Well in that case, do you think that we could maybe meet up? In person? I’d really like to meet you – properly.

I wait for his response, but it doesn’t come immediately. Or even quickly. I impatiently tap my fingers on my laptop casing. Why’s he taking so long? Have I misread the situation and scared him off? My palms start to feel tacky. Just as I’m working myself into an overreacting frenzy, he replies.

GrahamLeeton:I’d love to meet you in person. But I can’t. Not yet. There are some complications in my life, so now is not good. But when the time is right, I promise.

When the time is right? What does that even mean? That could be in a month or a decade. Or it could be never. Has he just fobbed me off? Why have we been chatting every day for weeks, building this amazing connection, if he doesn’t even want to meet me?

I feel so disappointed and confused by his answer, I find it hard to gather myself. I try to keep the conversation going, but the vibrancy has dissipated. After a while, I wrap things up, and try to busy myself doing a few bits and pieces around my apartment before the real-life and totally uncomplicated Josh arrives.

Next morning, I waken groggily, and on feeling Josh’s strong protective arm around me, instinctively snuggle into him for extra comfort, hoping I’ll nod off again. No such luck. As I come to, my mind immediately kicks into full capacity, replaying the events of the last twelve hours over and over. GrahamLeeton – now just Graham – and the tentative steps forward we made, but then feeling like I’ve fallen down a manhole after I asked him about meeting up.

Then Josh coming around last night. How he was able to distract me from all that, just through being so uncomplicated and attentive, and adorable. And unbelievably hot. We have such an amazing time together, and apart from the lack of interesting, brain-stimulating conversation, he’s everything I could possibly want.

But maybe that’s OK. Maybe he’ll grow into it. He is only twenty-three. Maybe it’s not actually that important; it’s just that having such incredibly thought-provoking, edge-of-your-seat conversation with Graham magnifies that one gap between Josh and me. Maybe if I didn’t continue my online interactions with Graham, I could be more settled with Josh. All I know for certain about Graham is that he has this one strength that Josh does not. What if that’s the only box he actually ticks?

My instincts immediately start to debate that point. I can’t believe that Graham is no more than a good conversationalist. There are clues all over our interactions that he’s more than that. I just don’t yet have the physical proof.

I realise I’m not just confused, I’m horribly conflicted. I don’t want to hurt Josh, and the idea of not being with him fills me with great sadness, but I know I can’t just turn off this online relationship I’ve developed either. Having slept on the disappointment of Graham telling me he couldn’t meet me just yet, I’ve woken even more determined that we will meet. Because that’s who I am. Who I learned to be at such a young age. No one was ever going to guide me or open the right doors for me. I had to do it all myself. And I’ll do it again.

Restless and not wanting to wake Josh, I gently slip out from under his huge muscular arm and pad along my laminate hallway floor to the kitchen living room. I make myself a cup of coffee and curl up on the couch with my laptop, deciding I’ll write a new blog post as a distraction.

As I’m creating a new file for my workings, I remember that my first blog-related payments are due from my advertising and affiliations. I quickly log into my bank account and see that they’ve actually been paid over the last couple of days. It’s not a lot, but I’m delighted that I’ve earned this money all by myself (OK, with a lot of help from Dylan), and that I’ve earned it because people enjoy my writing. I grab my phone and quickly tap out a text to Dylan.

I made £63.37 in my first month! It’s there in my bank account. I can’t believe it. xx

Expecting that he’ll be at work and unable to reply, I put my phone down and go back to preparing my new file for my blog post, but within a couple of minutes my phone lights up with a new message.

Nice one, Squirt. As long as you keep writing and getting more subscribers, that number will only go up. How much do you need to cover your monthly shortfall?

Good question. I do a quick calculation, taking into account the generous tips I get from wealthy clients in the bar, but being cautious and reducing that amount by around a third, as it’s not guaranteed income.

I think around £500–600 a month. Reyes says the tips at the hotel do fluctuate a bit, but are generally pretty good, and she’s been there quite a while.

Dylan replies quickly.

You could manage that level of income within a few months if all goes well. Maybe have a think about how you can diversify your portfolio. Like developing your blog site further and covering different topics, or maybe starting another blogging project altogether. Or look at alternative online options. You could have a few things on the go at once.

I screw up my face at his words. ‘Diversify my portfolio’? That’s not the way Dylan usually speaks. I quickly fire back a response to that effect.

Look at you using posh words! Something I should know?? OK, will have a think. Not so terrifying now I’ve done one. Maybe I can bounce my ideas off you?

His reply is almost instant.

Moving up in the world. Inspired by you. No probs. Happy to help. No need to do anything straight away. Keep your main focus on growing your blog site, just work on some ideas so you have them ready when you need them.

I smile at his words. Between us, Dylan was always the one who was less sure of himself. It was always me giving him advice and telling him he could be more than what statistics predicted for people from our background. Funny how things have switched recently. Now it’s him giving me advice.

I return to the empty file and start to type, but for some reason I just can’t get my words to flow. Still plagued by my own personal dilemma – who is the right man for me? – it’s almost impossible to focus on anything else. How can I solve this one? I need some advice, and not from Dylan or Reyes. They’re too close. They’ll automatically tell me to ditch Graham and stick with Josh. I needimpartialadvice.

Suddenly a thought pops into my mind. I know how to get my answer.

Chapter 24

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