Lindsey Kelk - Single Girls to-Do List

Lindsey Kelk

The Single Girls To-Do List

To all the single girls who gave hours of their lives,
livers and lipgloss to research the ultimate to-do list,
especially Rachael Wright, Sarah Donovan, Sarah
Benton, Emma Ingram and Alicia Romano. Your
sacrifice will not be in vain.

Contents

If someone had told you, ten years ago, youd be

Because no plan can succeed without the assistance of reliable

By the time the cab dropped me off at home,

Im going to kill him,

After six bags of crisps, three bottles of wine and

Morning.

Come on, Red, get up.

That arsehole. My mum dropped a slightly floppy slice of

I cant believe were doing this, Emelie groaned, her head

Raaaa-cheeeeel. I felt a hand lightly tapping the top of

I cant believe were doing this, I said, hobbling slightly

Matthew had been delighted when wed called him from the

Hi. Dan stood in front of me, back in his

Oh, you know me so well, Matthew shouted over the

Between the events on the sofa, the row, and a

Fourteen hours, one first-class flight and several glasses of champagne

I cant believe youre actually going on a date with

I crawled into bed, still in my sundress, and got

ohmygodthatwasamazing, I exhaled, as Dougie Howsers backward brother released me

Im coming! I yelled, dashing up the hallway in my

Four weeks earlier

It had been an odd Sunday.

My boyfriend, Simon, had got up and vamoosed for football before Id even considered rolling out of bed and onto the sofa for a three-hour Friends -a-thon. Even though it was late July, the weather was pretty mediocre and there was nothing compelling me to get up off the sofa other than a judgemental cat staring through the window and the intermittent need to pee. Usually I was mega-motivated on a Sunday. It wasnt too often I worked a regular five-day week, so Sundays were all together too often the only day I had to get anything done; but on that particular day, I couldnt bring myself to do anything more strenuous than to repeatedly text my gay best friend Matthew to ask how you doin?

I didnt care if it was a fifteen-year-old joke. It was still funny.

And so it was to me in my faded-to-grey Juicy Couture trackie bottoms, a Pokmon T-shirt Id worn semi-ironically at university and a greasy topknot that Simon arrived home at four in the afternoon. I rolled onto my back and gave him a sexy grunt. Rowr. Rachel Sexpot Summers.

I knew things werent right when, instead of giving me the standard kiss on the cheek and vanishing into the shower, Si sat down on the settee, elbows on knees, staring straight ahead and breathing loudly. After a couple of minutes, I muted Monica and shoved myself into a sitting position.

You all right? I asked.

Do you want to go to the cinema or something? He carried on staring at the fireplace. Not into it, just in front of it. As though he could see something I couldnt.

Im a bit knackered actually.

So sue me. I wasnt being that lazy; Id been working fourteen-hour days all week long. No rest for the wicked, or the make-up artist. Why dont we get a Chinese and watch a DVD or something?

He was quiet for another minute. My finger hovered over the volume button while I waited for confirmation. Or at least the suggestion of an Indian.

Eventually, he spoke. OK. So Ive been thinking. Whatever was in front of the fireplace continued to entrance him. We should take a break.

Were going to Croatia in September. I gave him a nonplussed stare and draped my legs across his.

Yeah. He stretched the word out almost all the way through an Asda commercial. No. I meant from like us.

Now he had my attention.

We should take a break?

Whatever it was that was so fascinating in the empty space in front of the fireplace had apparently just started doing a jig. I couldnt remember the last time Id seen him concentrate on something with such intensity that wasnt attached to an Xbox.

Are you dumping me? I pulled my legs up off his knee and curled into a semi-foetal position. I really wanted to brush my hair.

No, Simon shook his head. Its not that, I just need a bit of a break.

Sounds like youre dumping me. I was trying very, very hard not to cry. I already looked bloody awful; tears were not going to help my case. But then, neither was talking in a voice so high and squeaky that it made dolphins sound like they were smoking twenty a day. What are you saying?

Stop freaking out. I just need to sort some stuff out in my head. Im not breaking up with you.

Is there someone else?

Oh my god, there was someone else. Five years, a mortgage, a co-signed car loan for a crappy secondhand Renault Mgane and he was seeing someone else.

No, he practically shouted. Of course theres not someone else.

Fair enough.

Is this because I dont want to go to the cinema? I wrapped my arms around my knees.

Do you want to go to the cinema?

I shrugged, not knowing what else to do. I might.

And that was it. We ended up going to see the new Pirates of the Caribbean film but, to be honest, it was a bit difficult to concentrate. And when Johnny Depp cant hold your attention, what chance does anyone else have? When we got home, I ran a bath and Simon moved his stuff into the spare room.

The next night, I got home from work to find a note on the bed to say he needed a bit of time to think and he was going to stay with a friend for a couple of days. But he did come home. Just as soon as I went away to work in Manchester for a week. And when I got back, hed gone away on a business trip. Then I spent a week at my mums while she got to grips with a nasty broken leg. After that, he was off on a stag do. And then, one night, he just didnt come home.

But we werent broken up. It was just a break.

A break that was rounding the four-week mark.

But still, it was just a break

Four weeks later

If someone had told you, ten years ago, youd be standing here doing this, you wouldnt have believed them, would you? Anastasia asked, adjusting the strap of her lacy bra. She piled a mass of artificial blonde curls onto the top of her head before letting them fall perfectly around her slender shoulders. I mean, modelling? Its not something your career adviser usually recommends, is it?

I glanced up from the ridiculously painful kneeling position Id been locked in for the last fifteen minutes and stared daggers at the clueless blonde.

Well, no, its not, I shuffled from side to side, trying to ignore the shooting pains in my kneecaps. But, to be fair, if someone had sat me down and told me Id be spending most of my life covering bite marks on your arse, I might have found model more believable.

Yeah, sorry about that. She shuffled her boobs around while I fought the urge to scrawl slag across her bum cheeks in Ruby Woo lipstick. This new blokes a bit kinky. Think Im just going to stick with one boyfriend from now on. I mean, it might be dull as shit, but Im thinking go with the one who isnt into all that weird stuff, you know? Thank god we didnt have this shoot last week youd never have been able to cover up the rope burns on my wrists

Breathing out, I blocked Anastasias mid-Atlantic, Eastern-Europe-via-Essex drawl and focused on the job at hand. If there was one thing I was good at, it was focusing on the job at hand. Rachel Blinkers Summers, make-up artist extraordinaire and queen of elective deafness. It was one of those jobs that sounded super fancy and terribly exciting but, in reality, being a make-up artist boiled down to getting up very early, standing around for hours, making someone else look beautiful and then going home very late. Glamorous.