Page 66 of Sex Ed

‘Halloween. I was once a cat, and I pulled a man at a party who was dressed as a full vampire. Teeth and accent and leather trousers and it was really hot…’

‘I don’t think vampires wear leather trousers.’

‘Do you know any vampires?’

‘No. Did you let him drink your blood?’

‘Ed. No,’ I say, laughing. ‘It’s role play, it’s pretend. I just got on all fours and meowed a lot. I didn’t crap in a litterbox, he didn’t turn into a bat.’

This should be funny, but Ed just nods a lot, like I’ve opened a window into his brain that was very much closed and locked. He looks back to the screen where I’ve chosen a car sex video for him. I know exactly what he’s thinking. That would not be good for the upholstery, be careful around that gearstick, have they put enough coins in the parking meter?

‘So you really didn’t have sex with Caitlin after your date?’ I ask.

‘No. We just had a lovely evening. We laughed, we went our separate ways, we met up for a Park Run on Saturday then had brunch and…’ he sighs, ‘…it was perfect.’

‘It’s like something out of a sitcom. Did you wear matching Lycra?’ I jest.

‘No. But it feels like everything’s moving in the right direction,’ he says, watching the clip closely as the man in the video ejaculates over the woman’s stomach. I hope they brought something to wipe her down with.

‘And really nothing more than kissing?’ I say, almost a little curious about how they couldn’t have had sex.

‘She slapped me on the bum after our run,’ Ed says coolly.

‘So cheeky body contact – that’s good. I reckon next date could be the one. Cook for her. Intimate setting, bit of wine… BOOM!’ I say, knocking my hands together in a strange explosive action.

‘And not too soon?’

‘No. Any longer and she may think you’re friend-zoning her.’

‘Noted. Thank you,’ he says, resting his head on my shoulder.

‘It’s exciting. I’m the matchmaker who enabled all of this. Will you name your firstborn after me?’

‘I will consider it.’ And for a moment, I feel some strange emotion in the pit of my stomach again. It feels sad that maybe I will have to share Ed now and I won’t be the only person he’s ever been with. Do I tell him that? I don’t think I should confuse him, so I feel some sense of relief when I hear the familiar ringtone of my phone going off in my bag. I reach around to find it, before examining the number that appears and answering.

‘Rachel, all OK?’

Last week was the most time I’ve spent with Rachel since, well, since our mother passed away. After she came to school to tell me everything that was going wrong with her marriage, I took her to a Pitcher & Piano pub, I fed her hard liquor and I returned to her house where I held her hair back as she threw up. I gave her good advice (lawyer up; make the kids your priority) and less good advice (let’s find you a revenge shag; let’s have flaming shots) but I made her dance, sing, and shout into the night air as we were waiting for an Uber. I made her do all the things I do when I’m nursing a broken heart.

‘Mia? Are you busy?’ she whispers loudly on the phone.

‘Yeah, all OK?’

‘Can you come round? I’ve managed to get this appointment with a solicitor in the next hour, but I just need someone to sit with the kids. Could you come down?’

‘Yeah, are you OK?’

I can hear a light rapping at a door. ‘Yes, I just locked myself in the bathroom to take the call. I’M HAVING A WEE.’

‘Where’s Gareth?’ I ask.

‘Who bloody knows… Do you think you can make it?’

‘Deffo, give me twenty.’

I hang up and Ed studies me curiously. ‘All OK?’ he asks.

‘My sister is going through a messy separation thing, I need to get to her,’ I explain, jumping up from the sofa, the overexcited moans of some girl on the screen in the background.

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