Mike Gayle - Mr. Commitment

Acknowledgments

Very, very special thanks for everything as always to Claire. Very special thanks for all their hard work to Phil Pride and all @ Hodder (brilliant job on the cover!); Agent on a Motorcycle, her assistant Euan Thorneycroft and all @ Curtis Brown; and my mate, Jackie Behan. Special thanks for help, advice and general nonsense to Helen Lamont, Fergus and Catherine Hello B McDonnell. Special thanks for nice things said and done to Sid Cannon, Lisa Keogh, Emma Unsworth, Neil OSullivan, Sheila Goulding, the girl I spoke to on the Manchester to Birmingham train reading MLG, Pip, Lorna, Danuta Kean and Leah Hardy. Last but not least, second verse same as the first thanks to everyone I thanked last time around.

The music sounds better with all of you.

Also by Mike Gayle

My Legendary Girlfriend

MIKE GAYLE is a freelance journalist and a popular advice columnist. He lives in Birmingham, England.

A long-forgotten conversation

H er: [Pause] Do you love me?

Me: Of course I do.

Her: How much?

Me: I dont know... loads. To infinity and then some.

Her: [Contentedly] Good.

Me: Thats that sorted, then.

Her: [Playfully] So what would you do if I ever split up with you?

Me: Are you going to do that?

Her: No.

Me: Then why are we talking about it?

Her: Its called conversation. People do it all the time.

Me: So let me get this straight, the question is what would I do if you hypothetically dumped me?

Her: Yes.

Me: Hypothetically nothing.

Her: Nothing?

Me: Well, as were mad about each other itd take me doing something pretty stupid for you to want to get rid of me. [Pause] Like if I started biting my own toenails or something. Id dump me if I started doing that.

Her: Do you always have to be so logical?

Me: [Laughs] Id be devastated. Destroyed. Dismantled. And other words beginning with D.

Her: But what would you do?

Me: Do? [Pause] I would do everything in my power to get you back.

Her: Like what?

Me: Climbing the highest mountain, crossing scorching deserts, fighting man-eating tigersthat sort of thing. Granted there arent that many tigers, mountains or deserts in Muswell Hill. But you get my drift.

Her: What if the odds were impossible?

Me: Then Id die trying.

Her: What if I told you I didnt love you anymore?

Me: I wouldnt believe you.

Her: But you wouldnt ever give up trying?

Me: Nah. Some things you cant give up on, can you?

Her: Mr. Duffy, youve answered every single question correctly.

Me: Great, so what do I win?

Her: Me.

Lets talk about us

H ave I missed something here?

It was an ordinary Thursday evening in Januaryat least I thought so. I was round at my girlfriend Mels flat and it was to her that Id aimed my question, as for some unknown reason shed just turned off the TV even though Id quite clearly been watching it. What really wound me up, however, was the fact that shed used the remote control to do it, adding insult to injury. It was an unofficial rule of ours that I looked after all TV-channel-changing dutiesin the same way that Mel got first grazing rights on the top layer of any box of chocolates that came into our possession. Wed arrived at these and various other rules through a process of trial and error over the course of our four-year relationship. These rules made me happy. I always knew where I stood. But when you abandon rules theres bound to be chaos, and right now what I had on my hands was a serious case of anarchy.

My obviously deranged beloved pursed her perfect full lips together and blew into the end of the remote haughtily as if shed just battled the TV for my attention and won. Theres no need for you to be quite so pleased with yourself, I thought. After all, it was only a repeat of Star Trekthe episode where Kirk and co. go back in time to earth in early 1920s America and Spock has to wear a woolly hat to cover his pointy ears. A young Joan Collins is in it, and Kirk, surprise, surprise, snogs her. I wasnt a Trekkie but Id seen this episode a million times before and the more I thought about it the more irritated I became that Mel had curtailed my intergalactic viewing pleasure.

Mel, who had disappeared into her bedroom when Id arrived at her Clapham flat, only to reappear an hour later and turn off the TV, was now looking at me intently as if studying some unknown creature under a microscope. Her face bore the look not of someone annoyed, or angry but intrigued. Even so, I signaled an internal green alert and continued to feel on edge. She stood upstill holding the remote controland walked across the room to the table in the corner where a bottle of Chardonnay sat. She poured out two glasses of wine, put them on the coffee table, seated herself on my lap and kissed me.

Watching her carefully I began to wonder if she was trying to seduce me. Being seduced was a nice idea, but she really had no need to go to all this effort. When it came to Melwho was beautiful in a wonderfully understated kind of wayEasy was indeed my first, last and middle name. No, this isnt about seduction, I decided. This is about me doing something wrong. There was something about this whole situation that had a suggestion of forgotten anniversary about it, only it wasnt our anniversary. Was it?

Its not our anniversary, I said unsteadily, attempting to add a dash of confidence to my voice. Thats not until June eleventh.

The eighteenth actually.

Oh.

She smiled and kissed me again.

Its not your birthday, either... thats not until April sixth.

Nearly. She smiled. The fifth.

Oh.

She smiled and kissed me once more.

Its not my birthday, is it? I said, grasping at nothing. I cant be so crap that Ive actually forgotten my own birthday, surely?

What are you like? said Mel, laughing. Your birthday isnt until October the seventh.

All out of commemorative occasions, I continued to rack my brains. Mel loved any excuse for a celebration. It was bound to be something strange like the anniversary of the first time we had a Chinese takeaway, or four years to the day since we first cooked for each other or...

Ive got it, I said victoriously. Its the anniversary of the day I first told you I loved you.

It is? said Mel quizzically. Are you sure?

I dunno. I sighed and shrugged my shoulders. All I could remember about the day in question was that it had been the Friday Channel Four repeated the very first episode of Cheers. Id been looking forward to the moment all week and then five minutes before it was about to begin, Id felt a sudden urge to tell Mel about the intense emotional turmoil she was causing within my normally placid frame. Such was the sense of exhilaration caused by my outburst that we ended up missing Cheers altogether. It was worth it though. Well worth it.

After some moments of quiet contemplation attempting to work out why Mel had turned off the TV, was sitting on my lap and acting so strangely, I resorted to basic questioning in order to try and find out what was wrong, carefully avoiding the question I really wanted to ask: Why have you turned off Star Trek?

Like a panther of passion stalking her prey, she leaned forward and kissed me again, slowly, carefully and seductively. Maybe she was trying to seduce me after all.

Cant a woman be nice to her boyfriend once in a while? she purred.

No... I mean... yes. I looked at the TV forlornly. I mean if thats all it is.

I do have an agenda, she replied, whilst gaily fondling my earlobes.

I knew it...

So what is it? I asked carefully.

Its us.

Us?

Us, she said calmly. Lets talk about us.