The Dating Detox by Gemma Burgess Read Free Book Online

it,’ I say. ‘I’m sick and tired and fed up with the whole fucking thing. As God is my witness, I am not dating anymore.’
    ‘You’re not religious, Scarlett O’Hara,’ says Bloomie, poking her ice with her straw. ‘You’re not even christened.’
    ‘OK then, as Bloomie is my witness…’ I pause for a second, and slam both my hands down on the table so hard that the bartenders look over in alarm. ‘Yes! Yes! I will officially cease and desist from dating and everything to do with it from this moment forth. No more dating, no more dumpings. Officially. For real.’
    ‘No men?’
    ‘No men.’
    ‘No sex?’
    ‘No sex.’
    ‘No flirting?’
    I pause for a second. ‘No obvious flirting. But I can still talk to guys…’
    ‘You need to draw up a no-dating contract, then.’
    ‘Do it,’ I say, taking out a cigarette and perching it in my mouth expectantly. ‘I’m cleansing my life of men. It’s a total testosterone detox. A dating detox. Shall we call it Dating Rehab?’
    Bloomie snorts with laughter. ‘No let’s make it happier than that. We’ll call it the Love Holiday!’ says Bloomie happily, looking through her bag for a pen.
    ‘Love Holiday? That sounds like a Cliff Richard movie. No, it’s a…it’s a Sabbatical. A Dating Sabbatical.’
    ‘What if you meet the man o’ your dreams?’
    I roll my eyes. ‘Come on. What are the odds of that?’
    Bloomie cackles with laughter. ‘When will you know it’s over?’
    ‘Six months. That’s the average Sabbatical, right?’
    ‘Dude, seriously. That’s a long time to ignore real life, even for you.’
    ‘That’s the point…OK, three months,’ I grin.
    ‘Right, I need some paper. I’ll ask the bartender. Another drink?’
    As Bloomie heads towards the bar, I gaze around, looking in delight at all the men I won’t be dating. I feel deeply relieved to have the whole issue taken away. I can’t believe I never thought of this before! I am brilliant! High-fives to me!

Chapter Five
    The next morning I wake up with a predictably dry and foul-tasting mouth. I open one eye, noting thoughtfully the crusty-eyelash sensation that means I demaquillaged imperfectly, and discover a piece of paper on my right breast. Naturally, dear reader, you’re one step ahead of me—I’d expect nothing less—and you know already that this piece of paper will be the list that I remember reading (with one eye shut, due to mild vodka-induced double-vision) as I went to sleep last night.
    THE DATING SABBATICAL RULES
No accepting dates.
No asking men out on dates.
Obvious flirting is not allowed.
Avoid talking about the Sabbatical.
Talking about the Sabbatical is permitted in response to being asked out on a date. Until then it would just intrigue them and be another form of flirting and in fact be taken as a challenge.
No accidental dating, ie, pretending you didn’t arrange to meet them just for a movie or something when you blatantly did.
No new man friends. It is just as confusing. And it would open up opportunities for non-date-dates, ie,new-friend-dates, which are just the same as dates, when you get down to it.
Kissing is forbidden. Except under extreme circumstances, ie, male model slash comic genius is about to ship off to sea to save the world and as you say goodbye he starts to cry and says he never knew true love’s kiss.
Actually, if you meet a male model slash comic genius who is about to save the world, you can sleep with him. Otherwise keep your ladygarden free of visitors as it will complicate matters. None. At all.
No bastardos.
    I signed it and Bloomie signed it. Our signatures have, unsurprisingly, slightly more flair than usual. In fact, I’ve added an ‘Esq’ to mine. Hmm.
    What the hell is a ladygarden?
    Shampoo, condition, fuck shaving the armpits, brush teeth extra thoroughly, no one will see my legs, to hell with exfoliating, towel, where the fuck is the moisturiser, who cares, deodorant, perfume. My sartorial motivation today is