Page 48 of Sex Ed

‘No. But what if we were? You are always slightly preoccupied by what the weather’s doing and I’ll tell you now, that is not sexy.’

‘It is practical. I don’t want to sit around in wet pants.’

‘Maybe I do…’ Mia says, an eyebrow raised. I sit there not knowing whether to laugh, be scared or appalled. She teases me but I’ve never seen someone so unprepared for rain and the cold. I can’t think of the number of times I’ve had to strip in the staffroom and give her my jumper.

‘I’ll have you know, I think Caitlin appreciates my practicality. I bought her some lightbulbs the other day which she thought were…’

‘Shit?’

‘It was a shared joke thing,’ I try to explain.

I gave them to her in a gift bag which was probably going overboard but she giggled when she opened it. I guess it’s a move in the right direction. First step, lightbulbs, second step, dishwasher salt. Maybe if I lavish her with practical household items then she’ll fall in love with my sensible sincerity.

‘Well, if you are going to get me gifts, please no lightbulbs. I accept wine and chocolates,’ Mia tells me, scooting over a roundabout like she’s competing in a Grand Prix in Monaco. I clench on to my seat. She slows her car down and pulls into a darkened car park. Crap, we’re going dogging, aren’t we? What on earth is she making me do? Then I see a scrappy sign over a building that seems to be connected to a church: SHEEN COMMUNITY CENTRE. Oh dear, are we here to pray? For me?

‘Well, this is lovely. Am I allowed to ask what we’re doing here?’ I ask.

‘We’re here to learn. Are those shoes comfortable?’ she asks me.

‘Well, they don’t rub or anything,’ I answer.

She smiles broadly in return. A hand rapping at the window makes me jolt in my seat and Mia winds down the window. ‘FRANK!’ she squeals.

I don’t even know dogging etiquette, but I am not comfortable with Frank watching. Also, why is he in a suit? Is it because we’re London based? Does dogging get posh in inner cities?

He spies me in the passenger seat. ‘Ooooh, you brought a friend? You never bring friends,’ he enquires.

‘Oh, this is Ed. Ed, this is Frank. It’s his first time, so be gentle,’ she says, slapping me on the knee. Please, no.

‘A pleasure. I’ll see you inside,’ he says, winking, though I’m not entirely sure who he’s winking at. Mia winds up her window and I go into panic mode.

‘Mia… first time at what? Where have you brought me?’

She pulls a face trying to figure out my confusion and smiles. ‘A tantric sex class.’

‘MIA! That man must be seventy! What on earth?!’ I shriek in high tones. ‘In a church hall? That’s got to be against their laws.’

Mia bites her lip. ‘Yeah, we just line all the old men up on the floor, tell them to get their wrinkly wangers out and then we teach them how to hold that orgasm.’

‘You are mocking me,’ I say, crossing my arms.

She shakes her head, opening the car door, urging me to follow. I have no idea where she’s leading me but there’s a glow of lights coming from the church hall windows, a faint sound of music, and the smell of… chips? As she opens the doors, I shift her a look. Really?

‘I know I said I didn’t do clubbing, but this seems to be the other end of the spectrum, Mia?’

Inside the hall is what can only be described as a dance. For pensioners. There’s a lone disco ball, lines of tables with teacups and bunting and a dancefloor where couples trip the light fantastic across the shiny parquet floors. I turn to Mia to chastise her again but instead she’s waving at a few people in the room. She knows them? There was me thinking she spent her Fridays clubbing and sleeping with randoms when really she was here? Is this her way of telling me she has a fetish for older gentlemen?

She turns to me and links an arm through mine. ‘You have two problems, Ed. One is that you don’t really know how to talk to women. Two is that you need to cut loose, relax, feel comfortable in your own body.’

‘So the answer to this is for me to chat up a granny and do a waltz?’

‘So rude… I want you to converse, interact with these people, and I don’t waltz, I salsa. We need you to find your groove, get your hips working,’ she tells me, mimicking the motion.

‘I don’t know how to salsa.’

‘Well, it was this or take you to a nightclub and make you grind against people.’

‘I guess this is the better option then…’

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