Page 40 of Alice Carver Manifests Her Perfect Life
‘Nice move.’ He wiped some lager foam off his stomach. ‘Got one of my own,’ he said cheerfully, whipping off his pants, so he was standing there, fully naked, dick hanging limply in front of the most low-hanging testicles I’ve ever witnessed.
I stared.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I forgot to ask if you’re comfortable with me getting naked?’
‘No,’ I said, ‘I’m uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable.’
He exhaled noisily and bent down to pick up his underpants.
‘And what do you mean – “access”?’
‘Access to LST STP. The DJ.’
Oh crap. The tequila worm wriggled. My phone pinged. It was Drunk Stephen. He’d put a question mark over the photo of me and LST STP. Then he’d messaged underneath.Who the fuck is this? Thought you were going to get a pic with LST STP?
‘You’re notLST STP?’
‘No.’
‘So who are you?’
‘I’m Dave the decorator. Fill in as roadie when LST STP can’t find anyone better.’
I grabbed my phone, praying I could take down the post before Charlotte saw. Or anyone else.
A message from Charlotte:Age is just a number!Followed by hand-clap emoji.
Wonderful.
Dave sniffed as he zipped up his trousers. ‘If this isn’t happening, could you pass me a pork pie?’
THE AFTERMATH (Sunday 1 January, 4am)
We didn’t get back to Drunk Stephen’s until after 4am and all I wanted to do was go to bed but of course I couldn’t: because Drunk Stephen’s flatmate with his family ‘emergency’ had taken his room back.
I’d spent the last couple of hours fake laughing, as Drunk Stephen and New Steven found endless mileage in my near-miss with Decorator Dave (I just pray Astrid never finds out about the whole episode because she’d annihilate me), and watching their mutual attraction grow exponentially, and I was now feeling fatigued but wired and lonely and like I wanted someone to look at me the way they were looking at each other. But not Decorator Dave. (I can’t believe his dick is the first one I’ve seen in the new year. It doesn’t seem a good omen.) And then I had to spend another hour drinking with them in Drunk Stephen’s living room, not just laughing off Decorator Dave but also the fact that in a few hours I was being evicted from Drunk Stephen’s house – New Steven found the rat situation in Aunty Margaret’s flat hilarious. It did feel a bit like Drunk Stephen was using my shit life to get New Steven into bed. Then the worst part was Drunk Stephen finally made the frozen pizza he’d been promising to put on (by now I could have eaten my fist) and then he and New Steven just took the entire thing and walked off to his room. Sex and food and a bed? It was plain greedy.
So finally, at 5.30, I got to go to bed on the Ikea recliner and then I couldn’t sleep. Images of the night kept playing through my head. I looked through my phone at everyone’s posts and messages and then I felt sad; all my friends were in couples, with sorted lives, and none of them had ended up with a random roadie in a less than satisfying sexual encounter. That’s why I found myself thinking about Monty. And that’s why I got my journal out and started writing about this spectacularly awful night.
And now here I am, a whole hour and a half later, still not asleep and back to wondering about whether it’s worth messaging Monty again, just to see if he’d still be interested. Then I remember his wedding and how easy it would be to have him back and how that isn’t really what I want, so no, I won’t message. But thinking about Monty’s wedding reminds me of the Lamb. And Matthew Lloyd.
Oh no, Alice. Don’t think about Matthew Lloyd. Don’t imagine what he’d say if he could see the state of you now; don’t imagine him finding out about Decorator Dave. Definitely don’t imagine his face if he could see you here, all alone, with your yellow pleatherThe Guideand your manifestations… Don’t imagine him saying, ‘So Alice. How’s the “manifesting” working out for you?’
Because right now, I’d have to answer, ‘Absolutely terribly.’
And then he’d smile that smug smile.
And walk off hand in hand with Ebba, doing sums or something.
And I really couldn’t bear that.
Guide Post™
Under frosty winter ground, the bulbs of spring are awakening. You might only be able to see earth, but green shoots are just beneath.
Perhaps you find yourself doubting, but there is no place for doubt in this process. Doubt only sows salt on the garden of your dreams.
Do not doubt the Universe.
