Love... From Both Sides (A laugh-out-loud romantic comedy) by Nick Spalding Read Free Book Online Page A

moving from the gloriously sunny Portuguese coast to Tooting would be a bad idea, wouldn’t you?
    Before three minutes have elapsed she’s grabbed my hand and is telling me that Glen Artichoke’s future will contain overseas travel.
    I counter by telling her I suffer from a rare medical condition that means I can’t move over bodies off water without the urge to masturbate.
    Magdalena is learning all about hydromasturphilia when the buzzer goes and I move on.
     
    Date seven is Maxine, the head of Human Resources at the newspaper I currently work for.
    We sit awkwardly for five minutes discussing the changes to annual leave policy, before I rocket out of the chair when the buzzer goes.
    We both know that this evening will never, ever be spoken about by either of us.
     
    Date eight is Barbara.
    Barbara’s surname is Toadingham , which almost makes me wish Glen Artichoke was real, as that would make one hell of a double-barrel.
    By this time nearly an hour has gone by and I’m losing the will to live, so my conversation with Barbara is stilted and bland. I can’t even be bothered to make anything up.
    ‘You’re not enjoying this are you?’ she says.
    ‘Not particularly. You?’
    ‘Am I fuck. I could be at home watching Glee. Instead I’ve had to hear all about Colin and his piano collection, David’s wheat intolerance and Yuri’s problems getting a permanent visa.’
    I like Barbara. It’s a crying shame I’m not attracted to her in the slightest.
    ‘Oh thank Christ for that,’ she says as the buzzer goes. ‘I need a drink.’
    She’s up before I am, so for once I get to feel what it’s like to have someone scuttle away as quickly as possible.
     
    I slouch over to the bar and order another Diet Coke.
    Only eight dates to go…
    And by the looks of things Barbara might be the highlight of the night.
    I get a good look at the remaining women as they come to the bar.
    There’s at least three more made of beige, two who obviously got dressed in the dark, one who is old enough to be my mother, but thinks she can wear the same make-up as a teenage girl - and a scared looking chubby girl I struggle not to feel sorry for.
    The sixteenth and final woman of the evening would be a looker if it weren’t for the scowl permanently plastered across her face.
    This might be due to the greasy looking individual in the white suit that won’t leave her alone at the bar, but I can’t be sure. From the speed she’s downing the bottle of Smirnoff Ice in her hand I can tell she’s having about as much fun as I am.
    Can’t wait to chat with her.
    I don’t particularly want an alcoholic drink right now, but I could murder a cigarette.
    There’s five minutes of the break left, so I slope off for one.
    I’m supposed to be quitting, but nothing raises my stress levels like trying to hold a polite conversation with eight complete strangers in a row.
     
    It’s raining outside.
    Not just raining actually, but absolutely bucketing it down.
    I have the choice of getting soaking wet or not having a ciggie .
    Neither appeals.
    A third option springs to mind when I realise that the nightclub is virtually empty tonight, other than us lonely singletons.
    Across the way is the corridor leading to the toilets.
    I’m not one for arbitrary rule breaking, but I need nicotine damn it , so am more than willing to flaunt the law on this occasion.
    As I walk down the corridor I have to dodge a very disgruntled looking blonde as she hustles out of the ladies loo. It’s the same one from earlier, and getting a second look at the black expression on her face makes me even less keen to make her acquaintance.
    Nice arse though.
    I go into the men’s loo and lock myself in a stall.
    While I’m having a cigarette I might as well answer the call of nature, so I drop my trousers and assume the position.
    Twenty seconds later I’m in creamy nicotine heaven, and the prospect of another eight speed dates doesn’t feel quite as bad.
    Maybe one of