Meet Me In Manhattan Page 5

  ‘… But, having said that, if you’ve messaged someone twice and there’s still no response, then it’s definitely time to delete and move on …’

  ‘… I find it’s a good idea to take it offline as soon as you can. Because if there’s zero chemistry over the phone, then you can be certain there’ll be zero chemistry when you first meet.’

  So now it’s like the floodgates had opened and everyone was battling it out for airtime, as the rules and advice came in thick and fast.

  ‘Oh God! Then the first meeting. Absolutely critical. Goes without saying that dinner is way too long, especially if he turns out to be nothing at all like how he described himself …’

  ‘Agreed! Lunch is far better I find, preferably on a workday, so you always have the excuse of having to skedaddle back to the office. Even if it’s not necessarily true. In fact, there’s this great dating site called “It’sJustLunch” and I really think that if we’re going to segue from long- distance online dating to all these websites in general, it might be worth hooking them into the slot too …’

  ‘… Lunch? Are you joking? A whole hour out of my day? For some random stranger? No, a coffee is your best bet, trust me. Preferably in a Starbucks, where there’s plenty of people surrounding you, just in case he turns out to be a complete weirdo or a whacko …’

  ‘But always let a friend know exactly where you are and who you’re with beforehand. Then if everything turns out well, you can just slip off to the loo and text them anyway, just to let them know your body isn’t about to be dumped in the canal …’

  ‘… Ermm … if we could just move away from weirdos, whackos and getting dumped in the canal for a moment,’ I said to the room, thinking aloud more than anything else really. ‘Maybe then we could focus on if/when you get to that lovely stage of wanting to date each other exclusively. Because, if you ask me, at that point the etiquette is that you both take down your profiles and quit the site completely.’

  ‘Although if you do that and he doesn’t, then you’d better run a mile,’ groaned Jayne, rolling her eyes like she was speaking from bitter experience. ‘And of course it goes without saying that if things don’t work out for you, then it’s an absolute no-no to dump him online or via email. I did that one time and the bastard forwarded my email round to all his friends. It was bloody mortifying.’

  ‘Although, I guess even if things don’t work out for you,’ said Maia, who’d been noticeably quiet throughout all this, ‘then bear in mind that this guy might end up being a useful business contact for you. Not that I’d know or anything,’ she added with a too-bright smile. ‘Hugo and I are always saying how lucky we are to be out of the whole dating piranha pond. We don’t know how you all do it, really.’

  ‘Because no-strings sex is always so wonderful,’ Dermot grinned cheekily back at her to more than a few suppressed smiles.

  ‘OK, OK,’ said Aggie, taking control again. ‘Looks like we’ve really tapped into something here. Holly, can you get working on it quick as you can? We’ll open with long-distance dating as our lead item and roll it out to include online dating tips from there. Now come on people, what else have you got for me?’

  *

  Come lunchtime, long after the meeting had broken, I was in our tiny staff canteen – which is effectively more of a broom cupboard really – helping myself to a watery instant coffee and a mouthful of ham and Swiss panini. Next thing Dermot sidled up beside me, all tight Lycra gym gear and too-clingy spandex, arms folded and with more than a suspicious glint in his eyes, like he was onto me.

  ‘Well Missy,’ he said, cornering me so I couldn’t make a quick escape. ‘All that impassioned stuff back there, about just how magical long-distance relationships can be?’

  ‘Hmm?’ I said, delighted to have the excuse of a full mouth so I couldn’t answer him properly.

  ‘Spoken right from the heart, I noticed. So is there anything you want to tell your Uncle Dermot? Come on then. It’s not like I don’t tell you everything.’

  That wasn’t any kind of a compliment by the way, Dermot tells everyone absolutely everything, not just me. So I mumbled something about having to get back to my desk, but he just cut me off and physically blocked my path.

  ‘Come on, Holly, don’t hold out grade A gossip on me. You’ve spent the past year moaning that the only guys you seem to meet online are either married gits or else barefaced liars who describe themselves as looking like Bradley Cooper, but who turn out to be more like Shane MacGowan in real life. The teeth included. Then you burst in here all glowing and full of the joys – on a bleeding Monday morning – and start waxing lyrical about love blossoming online?’

  ‘Sorry Dermot, really gotta get back to my desk …’

  But he was standing right in front of me, way too big and protein-fed for me to possibly inch my way past.

  ‘Just off the top of my head … did you by any chance meet someone and you’re not telling me?’ he asked, eyebrows shooting upwards. ‘Do you have some secret little Christmas cracker on the go for yourself?’

  ‘Umm … possibly.’

  ‘Possibly means yes you do. Knew it! Knew you were acting weirder than normal this morning. And you never answered my calls yesterday to see if you fancied going to a movie; ergo, I’m guessing you spent most of your weekend stuck in front of a computer screen.’

  I was slightly too mortified to admit the truth, but it’s like Dermot just comes with a kind of honing instinct for these things. Because, of course, he was one hundred per cent right. For almost two full weeks now, it was just me and Captain Andy, messaging each other back and forth, day and night, at all hours of the day and night, and from airports at all four corners of the globe, just to ask about my day and to tell me all about his.

  And it was bloody amazing and I really did believe this one might just have legs. But of course rule one was do not jinx it by telling everyone all about it, at least not until we’d actually met.

  ‘Let’s just say, watch this space,’ I told Dermot, with what I hoped was an enigmatic smile.

  ‘Dirty bitch,’ he grinned and I poked him back playfully.

  ‘Thanks for not quizzing me any more,’ I said gratefully, ‘for the moment at least. But don’t worry, if this does turn into anything significant, you’ll be the very first to know. It’s a long-distance thing, so there’s a lot for us to navigate our way around.’

  He burst into a big, wide grin, then stepped aside from blocking the doorway, so I could squeeze my way past him.

  ‘Oh honey, long-distance online is the absolute best! There’s all the sexual build-up and anticipation before you get to meet and then when you do, it’s all the more wonderful because you know you’re never going to bump into each other in the vegetable aisle at Tesco’s. Plus, if you ever fancy cheating with someone closer to home, then how will he ever find out? You’re in a win-win, baby!’

  Chapter Six

  From: Guy_in_the_Sky

  Well how are you this evening, Holly? Gotta tell you, I just love hearing all those great stories of yours about your day. Gee, your job sounds so pressured and demanding. Can’t believe you were in the Four Courts earlier reporting on a murder case. How cool is that? And knowing you, you’ll probably unwind by skydiving or else going off mountaineering at the weekend, for fun. Just awesome. Your whole life just sounds so glamorous and exotic. Sadly, unlike my own at this moment.

  Right now, I’m stuck in terminal two at Hartsfield International Airport here in Atlanta (busiest one in the world and, boy, it sure does feel like it on days like this). I’m shortly going to be pushing back for LAX; that’s sunny Los Angeles in California where, even though it’s December, I’m told it’s a humid twenty degrees outside.

  Then tonight, I shuttle the return flight back here to Atlanta and, weather permitting, should be home to read Logan his bedtime story before tucking him in for the night.

  To tell you the truth, Holly, days like this, my job sort of feels like I’m just a bus driver
, except with a fancier uniform. Don’t get me wrong; I love the actual flying part, but the truth is, you get real tired of staying in yet another hotel room in yet another corner of the globe, missing my boy so much it hurts and wishing I could just settle down to a normal family life, without having to shuttle around so much. Ever feel that way?

  Speaking of Logan, he was the one who took this latest photo I’m attaching for you, just like you asked. In case you were wondering at it being taken at a bit of a funny angle, that’s all. You gotta make some allowances; the kid is, after all, barely six years old.

  I sure loved seeing your photo too, Holly. Last one you sent, you were kind of like a younger Sandra Bullock … you sure are one pretty lady. Send me on some more real soon, don’t keep me waiting now!

  In the meantime, wishing you a great day.

  Gotta fly. Literally.

  Andy.

  Oh Jesus I thought, looking away from my laptop and trying not to panic. Did I really lay it on thick with all that shite about reporting live on a criminal investigation in the Four Courts?

  Suppose Andy decides to Google Afternoon Delight? What exactly are you going to tell him then, my subconscious nagged at me.

  But then I just sat back, took a look at his photo and thought feck it anyway. All the, ahem, tweaking of the truth and risk-taking was totally justifiable in this case. And oh dear God, but you should have seen this latest pic. Because Andy wasn’t just gorgeous in it, he was beautiful. Classically broad-framed, light brownish hair with blue eyes and a shy, reserved sort of look to him. Kind of like Tim Robbins in The Shawshank Redemption, minus the prison buzz cut and the murder charge.

  He was in full uniform in the photo too, looking so, so sexy that for a worrying minute I found myself thinking, what exactly is a guy like this doing on a dating website? After all, here was a gorgeous, single man who obviously has plenty of dosh. Surely someone like this could land any woman he wanted?

  I had a sudden, disquieting vision of tall, leggy air hostesses with exotic suntans stinking of duty-free perfume, all hurling themselves at him, when next thing there was a mad pounding on my bedroom door and Joy burst in, dressed head to toe in her customary black, right down to the black Converse trainers she rarely takes off. But then Joy is one of the few women I know who’s absolutely comfortable to head out for a date night in flats and not give a shite either way.

  ‘Hi love, just wanted to ask you … Mother of God, what’s going on in here?’ she asked, taking in the boxes of old photos I’d just unearthed from on top of my wardrobe so I could start sifting the wheat from the chaff, i.e. the ones where I wasn’t wearing my jeans way too high and, more importantly, where my eyeliner didn’t make me look like a complete goth.

  ‘Ehh, long story, but basically if you could help me root out a photo where I don’t have a glass of wine clamped to my hand, I’d be eternally grateful.’

  ‘Why, exactly?’ she asked suspiciously.

  I didn’t say anything, just threw a guilty little glance towards my laptop sitting innocently on my desk, then waited the two-second delay while the truth dawned on her.

  ‘Ah for feck’s sake, Holly,’ she groaned, ‘don’t tell me this is all in aid of Captain Fantastic?’

  ‘Well … ermm … possibly.’

  ‘Now you just listen to me, love,’ she said, plonking herself down on the edge of the bed. ‘Because I’ve a far better suggestion for you. Instead of just sitting on your arse in front of a computer screen for the night, why not come out with myself and Krzysztof? We’re heading out to the movies and we were wondering if you’d join us? A few of Krzysztof’s mates from work are coming along too, so it’s bound to be a bit of fun. Well,’ she added, peeling one of the photos she’s sitting on off the bum of her jeans. ‘Certainly more fun than trawling through a bunch of photos from a decade ago, just so you can impress some virtual stranger.’

  Joy herself, by the way, is in a full-on relationship with this Krzysztof, who’s from Poland and who she met in our local Tesco’s about a year ago. He works in security there, all six feet four of him. So of course now, like most happily coupled-off women, she’s on a quest to get me matched up and as quickly as possible. Except, given my recent history, on dates that don’t sail into my life courtesy of Plentymorefish.com, EliteSingles.ie, Guardiandating.com or else anotherfriend.ie. And don’t even get me started on dating apps like Tinder, Grouper and OKCupid. There just isn’t time.

  ‘Come on, what do you say?’ she insisted. ‘You know, Krzysztof has this lovely pal called Conrad who’s coming with us and I was hoping you two might hit it off.’

  A pause while I chanced giving her a tiny shake of my head.

  ‘Would you kill me if I didn’t go out with you tonight?’

  ‘Oh God,’ she said, folding her arms and rolling her eyes to Heaven. ‘So you can just stay home emailing some complete stranger a whole continent away?’

  Which of course only sent me on the defensive.

  ‘Ah come on, Joy, I’m just enjoying all the attention and flirtation so much! Who wouldn’t? Plus Christmas is only a few weeks off and you of all people know it can only be a good thing for me to have this great distraction on the go.’

  Her whole expression changed, the way everyone’s does around me whenever the subject of Christmas comes up.

  ‘Oh hon,’ she said gently. ‘I know it’s a rough time for you, but …’

  ‘I mean, it’s not like I have a big family to go home to at Christmas, like you do …’

  ‘You’re welcome to stay with my family anytime,’ she said firmly. Same as she does every year, bless her. ‘You know that goes without saying.’

  ‘Of course I do and I couldn’t be more grateful. But you’ve got to stop giving me a hard time just because I’m chasing after a bit of romance this time of year. You know the reason why – you know everything there is to know – so come on now, would you really blame me?’

  ‘Well … when you put it like that … then I suppose not, no …’ she said, a bit doubtfully.

  ‘Plus, when it comes to men, the Olympics is more regular in my life than a proper boyfriend is, and then all of this love bombardment? Who wouldn’t cave, just like I have?’

  ‘I know,’ she said, ‘but still.’

  ‘And would you just have a read of some of his messages?’ I said, plonking her down into a desk chair in front of my laptop so I could scroll up all his emails.

  And believe me, there were dozens of them by then; as though neither of us was able to put the brakes on this hypnotic little spell that had been woven between the pair of us. Emails from him just to say good morning, how are you today? Little short, snappy one-liners sent from this airport or that, telling me funny stories about grumpy passengers or flight delays.

  And then my favourite emails of all: the ones where he chats all about Logan. The play dates Andy regularly takes him on, the fun they have on their father-son days out together and the lovely stories about how supportive Andy’s mother has been towards Logan ever since Andy was widowed, and how he couldn’t ever manage without her.

  Melt-your-heart emails. Almost-know-them-off-by-heart-at-this-stage emails.

  There’s silence as I watch Joy’s face while she scrolls down through them, one after another, waiting on her reaction. Because I challenge anyone without a heart of stone to read Andy’s own words and not just … melt.

  A long, long pause and eventually she leant back, arms folded and threw me that look.

  ‘OK,’ she eventually said. ‘Well I’ll give him this much at least. He sounds … likeable.’

  ‘That’s the best you can say? Likeable?’

  ‘Although I will add this small caveat. He does lay on the Southern accent a bit thick for my taste. All this, “write back real soon now!” And “gotta fly!” Don’t know why he doesn’t just throw in “y’all!” at the end of every sentence for good measure and start singing a few verses of Sweet Home Alabama while he’s at it. Jeez, you can practically
smell the Southern Comfort off the screen.’

  ‘Oh, now you’re just nitpicking. Besides, I like it. In fact, I can almost get a feel for what Andy sounds like just from the way he expresses himself online.’

  ‘Yeah, but aren’t you at all concerned at the whopping great howlers you’re peddling him? You told him you were reporting on a murder trial live from the Four Courts?’

  ‘Yeah, I know but …’

  ‘You don’t need to do any of this, Holly. Any guy in his sane mind would adore you just as you are. So come on then, time to choose. Come to the movies with us or stay home? Real life or keep spinning make-believe illusions?’

  I think we both already know my answer to that one though.

  And, sure enough, the very minute she was out the door, wouldn’t you know it I was straight back online. Fingers trembling, I attached the most passable photo I had of myself, taken on my birthday all of, ahem, five years ago. I was in Paris with Joy at the time on a girlie weekend, and it’s just that the background to the photo looks so Parisian and cool. It was taken at night (hence far more forgiving lighting), and I’m sitting on the Pont Neuf with my feet dangling over it, while Joy screeched at me from behind the camera to pose like something out of a Fellini film. As it happens though, I’m just trying to sober up and not fall in.

  I clicked ‘send’. And then waited.

  And waited.

  Just past midnight and I was all snuggled up in bed, half dozing off, but with half an ear open, just in case. And then, thank you God, a blessed ping as a message came through to my phone.

  Him. Andy. Back to me already.

  From: Guy_in_the_Sky

  Well hey there Holly,

  I sure hope this message isn’t waking you up from your beauty sleep? I know it’s the wee small hours over there in the Emerald Isle, but I just had to get in touch to say I got your photo, safe and sound.