A Moral Dilemma: A Romantic Comedy Chick Lit Story (3 page)

“What the hell is wrong with these immoral women?!” I threw out to no one in particular. “Why do they continuously insist on targeting married men and wrecking our fuckin’ lives?!”

“Darling, I do hate to have to tell you this,” Abigail yawned, stretching out her arms above her head, “but you and Jeremy were not
actually
married.”

“No. Not technically. But we were as good as.”

“You see. Now there’s your problem right there. There’s no such thing as ‘
as good as
’. You’re either married, or you’re not. And you and Jeremy, despite your raving Stepford Wife performance,
were not
.” I glared at her. “I’m sorry Becky darling, I love you to bits and pieces, you
know
that. But I do think you need to hear the truth sweetie. I mean you throw yourself entirely into these relationships, treating your
boyfriend
as though he was your
husband
, and then you wonder why it goes all pear shaped.”

“What do you mean I ‘
throw
’ myself?!”

“Rebecca, you DARN Jeremy’s socks for chrissakes! I bet not even his mother would do that.” My jaw
catapulted to my chest and I looked to Julia for some back up, but she just gave me a pathetic little smile which I suppose meant she agreed with Abigail. For once! “You treat a boyfriend like a husband then he’ll start to behave like a husband. And husbands cheat,” she said satisfied with her deduction.

“Now hold on a second,” Julia finally piped up, “not
all
husbands cheat. That is a ridiculous blanket statement Abigail.”

“Oh, whatever! Well, as none of us here has ever actually
been
married, none of us can actually say for sure one way or the other, now can we?” she said with a smile. “Whereas I am the only one here who has
actually
successfully dated several eligible bachelors…”

“Successfully dated?! Hah! That’s a joke,” I gave a little laugh.

Julia stepped onto her soapbox. “What makes you think any of your relationships,
IF
you can call them that, were successful Abigail?”

Abigail looked at her. “I’ve never been cheated on, and I’ve never been dumped,” she said matter-of-factly. Julia stepped off her soapbox quick time. “Anyway, as I was saying. As the only one here with any real experience with men, I
think I know what they want. And what they want is glamour! They want to live on the edge of titillation,” she said breathlessly, obviously enjoying herself. Julia and I looked at each other and rolled our eyes. “They want to be teased. They want excitement.”

I sat up. “I AM exciting!” They both looked at me with disappointment. “I am too,” I pouted. “I
know
how to keep a man happy. I cook. I clean. Make sure his shirts are always ironed.” Realising that none of that sounded the least bit exciting, I quickly added, “I wear stockings…” which was a blatant lie. OK, I didn’t do tights, I wasn’t
that
bad! But I do think there’s nothing sexier than naturally tanned, toned, bare legs. Which mine are.

“Oh Becky, Becky, Becky,” Abigail shook her head. “I honestly do believe you were born in the wrong decade. Wrong era even. Look, whilst Mr Mark Darcy might’ve appreciated your cross stitch, these modern day bastards are far more interested in your fellatio technique.” Julia pulled a face.

“It’s good,” I quipped. Abigail pretended to hang herself. Julia giggled. Oh god. My best friends think I’m a frump. A boring old frump who doesn’t even know how to keep a man happy. Abby was right of course. I did give too much. Loved too much. I couldn’t help it. I can’t help it. I’m an instinctive nurturer. The second I fall in love with someone I immediately want to cradle his head between my bosoms and feed him. Figuratively speaking of course, because a) I haven’t got much of a bosom…bee-stings would be a more of an accurate description. And b) of course I wouldn’t want to actually ‘feed’ a grown man from my bee-sting bosom. Yuk – that would just be too gross. But I do instinctively begin to care for them. To do for them. I loved darning Jeremy’s socks. And making him ciabatta sandwiches to take to work. Though I now suspect he would just chuck them in the bin on the way in. I loved cooking for and cleaning after Jeremy. I understood and embraced my role as a woman: to support, care for and nurture my man. Humph! I only just realise that bloody Jeremy had never really appreciated any of those qualities about me. He would never buy me cook books, and had blatantly ignored my request for “anything by Jamie Oliver” on my Christmas stocking list. But instead would shower me with wholly impractical underwear and outfits from Ann Summers that I would never wear. I bet Miss Thingy was more than happy to model the little nurse ensemble with butterfly thong for him! I sniffed bravely, trying to fight back the tears.

Julia
placed a protective arm around my shoulder and hugged me toward her. “Oh Becky don’t listen to Abigail,” she said shaking her disapproving head at Abby, assuming what she said had upset me. “People come in all different kinds of packages, and you’re…you’re…you’re just an old fashioned girl in gorgeous modern day packaging. And there is nothing at all wrong with that, now is there?” She gave me a squeeze.

“No,” I whimpered. “Abby’s right. I was born in the wrong era. I don’t understand these modern men, and to be quite honest I’ve had enough of them. The cheating bastards. Oh Juju, can you please marry Sebastian and have lots and lots of babies so that I can be godmother to all of them and be constantly surrounded by kids. I’m going to miss not being a mummy,” I said with a little snuffle. “I’d have been a good mummy. I’ll take all my godchildren to the shop and buy them penny selection sweets and I’ll take them to the park…”

“Err, Becky, sweetie,” Abby lifted her head off the couch and regarded me, “why don’t you ask
me
to have lots of babies for you to be godmother to?”

“Oh Abby don’t be silly. You’re never with anyone long enough to copulate more than twice.” Abby thought about it for a moment, and then nodded her agreement.

“Oh shush,” Julia interrupted my gloomy thoughts. “Of course you’ll be a mummy one day – when you meet the right man who’s looking for…er…for the same things as you are. I’m positive there’s someone out there…” Then just as I was beginning to feel a fraction better, she added, “…just as old fashioned as you are.” And tears I thought had dried up started to flow again as I wailed. The thing about Juju is she has this incredible knack of saying the wrong bloody thing at the wrong bloody time.

“Do you not have
any
wine in this place at all Rebecca?” Abby complained. “And what about food?” she said slamming the fridge door shut. “I’m ravenous.” There
was
food in there of course. Just nothing instant. Nothing microwavable. I could’ve rustled up a mean feast had I been in the mood. But I was so not in the mood.

“I haven’t eaten all day,” Julia moaned. “And this god awful concoction is making me feel quite queasy,” she said screwing up her nose at the dark suspicious cocktail. “Abby, why don’t you run down to Dino’s and get us some fajitas?”

“Why don’t
you
bloody well run down to Dino’s?!” she quipped. Julia replied with some smart retort and they were off again. At each other’s throats. Honestly! You would never believe that these two were even friends by the way they behaved sometimes. But they were. And had been for years. It hadn’t always been like this. The three of us shared a house during our first year at uni and had been firm friends ever since. Abby never used to be so awful toward Juju, and even now when she is, Juju dismisses it as “Abby just being Abby”. But Abby and Juju had been really close at one point. So close in fact that Abby had excitedly introduced Juju to her one and only childhood sweetheart when he turned up at the same uni to do his MA. Abby had wanted to show him off to Julia, her up until then, partner in crime. She had wanted her to see just how gorgeous this guy was. The guy she had lost her virginity to and the guy she would repeatedly tell us was one in a million. How no other man came close and how he was the last decent bloke to walk the face of this earth. Julia had to agree. He really was drop dead gorgeous. So gorgeous in fact, that she got off with him. A year later, Julia and Sebastian were engaged. Abby wasn’t mad for long. She’d always known that Sebastian was the settling down type whilst she, Abby, was anything but. She was genuinely happy for Julia and Seb. Two of her best friends. And when the wedding date was set and the preparations started, Abby was still being real sweet to Juju. It wasn’t until Julia changed her mind, cancelled the wedding and smashed poor Seb’s heart into smithereens, that “Abby started being Abby” toward her.

“…I am not listening to you Abigail,” Julia said calmly whilst covering her ears. Then as Abby spoke louder, “La la di di de da la la…”

“Oh god,” Abby spat at her. “You are so childish Julia!”

“No,” I interjected. “You
both
are! Now pass me that phone. I’ll call Dino’s.” Thirty minutes later we were tucking into chicken fajitas and sipping organic red wine.

I ate slowly, thinking about Jeremy. I wondered what he was doing right now. Probably tucking into Miss Thingy. I suddenly lost my appetite.
“Hah!” I said. “Can you believe Jeremy would jeopardise our relationship for such a trollop?”

“Which trollop?” Julia asked innocently. I stared at her.

“Miss Thingy!” She still looked blank. “On the
camcorder
? Earth to Julia…”

“Oh.
Her
…?”

“Yes. Her! In her tits-out, arse-out, hardly-there skimpy dress! What a…trollop!” I repeated, and waited for my wonderful supportive friends to join me in a good old verbal thrashing of Miss Thingy. They were silent. “You think she’s pretty?!” I accused Julia.

“Oh nooo! She’s no way near as pretty as you Becky. You’re a natural beauty.” Humph.

Abby cleared her throat. “She is rather glamorous though.”

“Hmmm,” Julia agreed dreamily. “She is.”

I couldn’t believe this shit. “You have got to be kidding me! She’s a tramp! A tramp that’s stolen my boyfriend!”

Abby pushed her plate away. I suppose she thought it would find its own way to the kitchen. “Not disputing the fact that she’s a tramp darling. But she
is
a very glamorous tramp.” Then suddenly realising she was onto something: “See! This proves my theory to the ‘T’. Men, including bloody Jeremy, want a bit of glamour in their lives. It’s all about the leather and lace.” Juju and I raised our eyebrows. “Thigh high patent boots. Crotch-less knickers. They love it! It’s all very well being a cook in the kitchen darling,” she said looking at me, “but you’ve got to be a bit of a tramp in the bedroom if you want them lapping at your feet.”

I made a face. “Whore in the bedroom more like!”

“Whatever you want to call it darling, it’s glamorous and sexy and it hints at what most men want.”

“Which is?”

“Dirty sex, of course,” she stated quite simply.

Julia nearly choked on her wine. “Oh Abigail do shut up. You really are talking utter nonsense!”

“Completely,” I echoed dryly.

“We’d be turning into common hookers if we listened to you!”

Abby laughed. “And would that be such a bad thing? But seriously. Would it? I mean men
do
go to them. Maybe Jeremy’s been.” then with a wicked twinkle in her eye, “…maybe even Sebastian,” trying her damnedest not to roar with laughter.

Julia was not amused. “My Seb does not consort with common hookers,” she stated icily.

Abigail immediately fell about. “Oh, he sees the posh kind does he?” she managed to blubber through her howls of laughter. Then drying the tears from her eyes, “But really. How do you know? How do we ever know what these cheating bastards get up to? We can’t all skulk around like Miss Marple here. No,” she said
airily
, “If you can’t beat them, join them. That’s what I say. But if you want one to hang around a while and even think of being faithful…we need to spice it up a little. Add some glamour.” The three of us sat quietly sipping our wine, thinking about what Abby had said. Then she turned to me. “You know Rebecca, you really are very pretty.” Whilst this may have sounded like a compliment I could definitely feel some kind of dig on its way… “In a very natural sense.” Hmm what no insult? “You’ve got great skin,” she said studying my face as though I were her next project. “But ‘au naturel’ really is just a tad passé,” …and there it was! “You should get your tits done! Plump those lips. Subject to the Botox. Embrace the glamour. It’s what the guys these days expect darling,” she sympathised.

“No way,” I dismissed her. “I really don’t care what ‘the guys these days expect’. I believe in growing old gracefully and I’m not going to start tarting myself up like some…some…tarty trollop, just to keep some man happy! I’m through with men anyway,” I said in a strop.

“Oh Becky,” Julia said leaning forward earnestly. “Don’t listen to her. You are absolutely stunning – in a very wholesome kind of way.”

“Did you just say ‘homely’?”

“No. Wholesome…though ‘homely’ would be accurate also,” she added as an afterthought.