I have the chicken mayonnaise with avocado on white please?’
‘Brown,’ Michael interjects, correcting my order. It startles me so much I forget to order a drink.
We sit back down. There is no music. The two people who work here are now making our order together to get it out quickly so they can close. I hate everything about what I am wearing.
‘It’s not like she saw me using it,’ I say, needing to break the ice.
Michael leans forward. ‘What is the matter with you?’ he says, through a tight mouth.
‘Nothing is the matter with me.’ I pause, knowing he needs an explanation, but I’m not quite able to rationalise it’s a second-hand one! ‘I just treated myself to a sex toy. Lots of women have them, it’s not a big deal.’
‘You think seeing my mother rub my wife’s vibrator on my child’s face isn’t a big deal?’
I spare another thought for Risky’s vagina juice. Please, please, let her have washed it.
‘It was clean,’ I say, as two sandwiches are put in front of us.
‘And here’s a complimentary bowl of crisps,’ the lady says, putting them in the middle. Michael pulls them towards him and starts layering them into his sandwich.
‘Mum will be so upset,’ he says, through a mouthful of prawns and mayonnaise. He often talks to me like I am gross, when his table manners are actually horrible.
‘It’s very unfortunate that it happened, but it was in my bag and I tripped. It was an accident.’
‘Dressing like that wasn’t an accident though, was it?’
‘No,’ I say, dropping my head. ‘No, I did this on purpose hoping you would like it.’
‘You know I like you in jeans.’
We sit in silence for a while and eat our sandwiches in the very bright cafe on what was supposed to be our date night. He can hardly bring himself to look at me. I have no idea what to say. I just want things to be better. So eventually I give in.
‘Michael, I’m really sorry for what happened tonight. I wish it hadn’t. But I’ve been so excited to have dinner with you and I hope we can still have a nice time?’ I take a small, delicate bite of my sandwich and make sure my mouth doesn’t open as I eat it. He takes his time, but eventually backs down.
‘OK. Thank you for saying sorry. And please, no more of that … nonsense. OK?’
By ‘nonsense’ I presume he means sex toys. I nod my head and smile.
‘So how cute was that picture you sent me of Tommy in the park? That squirrel was so close to him, amazing how tame they are.’
He cheers right up.
‘I know, and if Tommy was any bigger I’m sure he would have grabbed it.’
We sit in the cafe for a further fifteen minutes, talking about nothing but our baby, because when we talk about anything else, we realise we have nothing to say. When we get home – we were gone just over one hour – Janet is watching EastEnders and barely looks at me as she leaves. Michael walks her home. I go straight to the kitchen to retrieve my vibrator, but she must have taken out the bins, and rooting around in the outside rubbish looking for a sex toy is not a low I am willing to reach right now.
Upstairs, I take off the body-con dress and put it in a bag ready to take to a charity shop. I rub cream into my sore feet and set my alarm for eleven p.m., when I will give Tommy a dream feed.
Tonight didn’t exactly go to plan. I have zero chance of getting laid. And what a waste of a perfectly good vibrator.
Lauren Pearce – Instagram post
@OfficialLP
The image is of Lauren, she is lying on her front on a bed, her body reflected in a large gold-framed mirror. She’s reaching forward, holding the phone to take a selfie. The angle is just right, so you can see the curve of her hip and the top of her bottom. Her feet are raised and cutely hooked together. She is looking seductively into the camera, as if it is a lover. She is alone. There is a carton of coconut water next to the bed.
The caption reads:
Happiness and hydration go hand in hand. I don’t feel myself if I don’t drink enough (and no, I don’t mean vodka LOL). Taking care of my body and my skin helps me to feel good. I start every day with a #FRESHCoconutWater #AD #Cocofresh #selflove #reachout #mentalillness #hydrate #vegan #women
@turningup286872: Thank you for being you
@kellyheap: Is all you do drink drinks? Smoothies, coconut water? Can we see you eat a bloody meal please?
@HowdyMunchBrain: Twat. You have the perfect life. Get over yourself.
@Flickerlights-off: Queen.
@PatreonofLorralites: You’re so lucky. I wish I was you. I’d do anything to be you.
@gellyjeellybelly: That shit tastes like feet. What’s Gav like in bed, I reckon he likes a blowie, amiriiight?
@YUMMIETUMMY: I find you so inspiring. The best example of how to live your best life … keep posting, keep being you.
Ruby
Bonnie was ill for most of the night. Neither of us have slept. She watched TV from six a.m., but five hours later she’s bored and walking around the house moaning like a handmaid, as if forced to stay by a cruel regime she is desperate to overthrow. I have a number of errands to run. I see mothers all the time, taking their children out and about: food shopping, clothes shopping, going into restaurants … they make it look so easy. I don’t do things like that with Bonnie because she screams at me whenever I try. I get most of my chores done while she is at nursery, or while she is with Liam at the weekend. I see those other mothers just getting on with their lives in the company of their children and wonder if maybe they have drugged them? Or if they share some secret to keeping toddlers under control that I don’t know? Maybe today I will discover it, because I have no childcare and I simply must get on with my day. I have urgent things to do, like buying mousetraps, tights and a new bra.
I wouldn’t usually force myself to try on new bras in a bright changing room, especially before a wax, but the underwire came out of my only one this morning, and it’s been so long since I got a new one that I have no idea what size I am. My body shape has barely changed in twenty years, but my boobs have never been the same size the day I got pregnant. I’m almost sure I’ve dropped a cup size.
