My Dating Disasters Diary (19 page)

The policeman seemed puzzled by my complaint. 'So,
love, that's a shame but we're no' sure what you want us
to do about it.'

Honestly, wasn't it totally obvious? What an idiot. But
I just said politely, 'Please, Officer, could you get it out of
the river for me?' The policemen looked startled so I
quickly added, 'Well, not you personally of course, but,
erm, the river police division, or, you know, um, frogmen
officers.'

'Oh, aye, right. Frogmen, of course.' He nodded to the
other officer then spoke into his radio. 'Sarge? Aye, there's
a young lady here that's lost her mobile. Fell into the
Clyde just a few minutes ago. We need a couple of frogmen
right away.' Here he looked over the bridge into the
river. 'Nah, cancel that. Maybe a dozen or so in case it's
been swept downstream. And send the rest of the lads out
to secure the area . . . What's that you said? We're a bit
short of officers just now because of the bank robbery in
progress, the rooftop protest in Barlinnie, where they're
holding the prison governor and staff hostage, plus
another major terrorist alert at Glasgow airport? . . . Look,
forget all that, this takes top priority. I want every inch of
the Clyde dragged to locate this lassie's phone. She had
nearly twenty quid's worth of top-ups in it an' all.'

Of course, he hadn't even had his radio on properly.
Hilarious. And the police wonder why they're losing the
teenage community's respect.

When Mum found out about my mobile, she went on and
on at me for being an eejit who'd 'lose your head if it
wasn't sodding well bolted on'. But luckily Aunt Kate
and Great-aunt Winnie came over in the afternoon so
Mum was too busy talking to them to slag me off much
any more.

They'd come over mainly to have a nosy at Angela's
new boyfriend, who she's invited over for dinner at our
house even though she's only been going out with him
two weeks. Apparently he's already dead keen to meet
our family so he must be a real nerd. The good news is
that Mum has bought Marks and Spencer's lasagnes,
which are my favourite, so maybe that will make up for
having to put up with another of the boring, stupid
boyfriends my sister seems to attract.

Angela had begged Mum not to have loads of people over 'spectating',
but Mum has said Aunt Kate and Greataunt Winnie can meet him because they're
family but they won't stay for dinner. I was relieved about that. Didn't want
to share the lasagnes with too many people.

I was at my bedroom window keeping an eye out for
someone who looked like he could be Angela's boyfriend,
and I'd spotted several nerdy-looking possibilities who
all passed by, when this really tall, fit guy got out of an
expensive sports car and moved purposefully towards
our door, carrying a bunch of flowers and a huge box of
chocolates.

Bloody hell. This looked interesting.

I rushed downstairs and opened the door. He seemed
startled. Maybe I should have waited until he'd knocked.
But he just said in a nice American accent, 'Hi, you must
be Kelly Ann. I'm David. Great to meet you.'

I took the chocolates from him, then ushered him into
the living room.

Mum, Aunt Kate and even Great-aunt Winnie were as
gobsmacked as me when they saw him and just gawped.
However, they quickly recovered and soon everyone was
chatting away easily.

As well as being very good looking, he seemed really
nice too. He talked knowledgeably to Dad about sport,
always respectfully deferring to Dad's opinion. And he
answered all Mum's, Aunt Kate's and Great-aunt
Winnie's nosy questions with a smile, calling them
'ma'am' and saying how honoured he was to meet so
many of Angela's wonderful family. It was maybe a bit
smarmy but they loved it. He even paid attention to me,
asking me what music I liked and offering to teach me
guitar as he's been playing since he was a kid and is quite
good.

How had Angela managed to get this one? He seemed
perfect.

But then suddenly he turned to Dad and said, 'Have
you found Jesus yet, sir?'

Dad tried to laugh it off. 'Didn't even know he was
missing, son.'

But David ignored the joke. 'He is missing in the hearts
of too many poor sinners who need saving.'

And then he droned on for ages about how he'd found
Jesus two years ago and how it had totally transformed
his life. Might have known it was too much to hope that
my sister had at last found a boyfriend who wasn't a total
embarrassment.

Soon even Great-aunt Winnie – who's dead religious
and goes to church every Sunday – was yawning like a
hippo so she and Aunt Kate made some excuse and
hurried out. But we would have to put up with him at
least until after dinner.

I offered to help Mum in the kitchen just to get away.
So did Dad, which is a first. The lasagne smelled
delicious, and there was Häagen-Dazs chocolate ice
cream for dessert, so maybe the evening wasn't going to
be a total disaster.

By the time we sat down to eat I was starving as it was
at least an hour later than normal. Couldn't wait to get
started but then David said, 'Shall I say grace?'

Next thing I knew he'd taken hold of both Angela's hand and
mine, bowed his head, and begun the longest prayer ever. He thanked God, not
just for the food but absolutely everything: the table we ate it on, our family
home to shelter us while we ate it, Mum and Dad's jobs for providing the money
for it and our healthy bodies that would eat and digest it. Wouldn't have
been surprised if he'd thanked God for the toilet we'd use afterwards but
finally he stopped and I was allowed to eat my lasagne, which had gone cold.
Mum's hadn't though – she'd finished hers while he was waffling on and
was now smoking her after-dinner fag.

At long last he left. As he said goodbye, I had the oddest
thought. Yeah, it was true. Wished Angela was still with
Graham.

Liz has dumped her boyfriend. 'He was so boring, Kelly
Ann. I mean, no major traumas in childhood, no phobias,
not even the slightest sign of obsessive compulsive
behaviour. Nothing. Totally well balanced and adjusted.'

Stephanie has dumped her Zombie. Apparently he gave
her flowers pretending he'd bought them but had
actually stolen them from the cemetery. She found a card
still attached which said,
For our beloved gran. We miss you.
RIP
.

I know I should probably feel sorry that my friends have
split up with their boyfriends but it's not as though
they're really cut up about it exactly. And I can't help
being pleased that at last I would no longer be spending
every Saturday night on my own. I was already planning
what we'd all do next weekend but Stephanie appeared
to have other ideas.

She showed Liz and me a picture of a boy called Harry.
'What do you think?'

We peered at him. Tall and slim with brown hair and a
nice smile. He looked OK but not exactly Stephanie's
type.

Liz said, 'What does he do? Not another gravedigger,
is he?'

'No, he's still at school. Anyway, he's not for me. I'm
thinking he might make a nice boyfriend for Kelly Ann.'
Stephanie looked at me. 'Do you like him?'

'A boyfriend for me?'

'Yeah, why not? You can't stay a VL for ever. I told you
I was going to set you up.'

'You did not!'

Stephanie shrugged. 'Must have forgotten. Anyway' –
she pointed to the picture again – 'what do you think?'

'I don't know. I mean, I've never met him. You can't
just get me a boyfriend like you're ordering stuff from a
catalogue.'

'A boyfriend catalogue. What a great idea.' Stephanie
laughed. 'Especially if you can send them back if you're
not satisfied. Hmm, yeah, there'd probably be an awful
lot of returns.

'Anyway,' she continued, 'Harry isn't from a
catalogue. He's the son of one of Mum's friends. So, do
you like him?'

I stared at the photo. Yeah, he wasn't too bad looking.
Quite hot in fact. But what was he really like? And would
he fancy someone like me? I'd need to find out more
before I made an idiot of myself like I did with William.

'I don't know anything about him,' I said.

Stephanie sighed. 'He's just a boy. They're all much the
same, aren't they? What do you want to know?'

'Well, erm, what school does he go to for a start?'

'It's a private school but he's not a snob.'

'Private school? The same one as Leo?'

'Who's Leo?' Stephanie said.

Liz groaned. 'Don't ask.'

It's been decided that Stephanie will try to get Harry and
me together. Decided by Liz and Stephanie, that is. I
wasn't keen at first. Well, more scared really. The
annoying thing is, now that I really want a boyfriend,
the very thought of even talking to a boy I fancy makes
me nervous, never mind actually going out with one.

But Stephanie has said she's going to prepare me
before I meet Harry so I'll look absolutely fabulous and be
super confident. First I'm to be given a total makeover.
Then I'll have to be taught how to talk to boys. Liz had
told her about the William disaster.

Am quite excited about it now. Wouldn't it be weird if,
for once,
I
was the one with the boyfriend? Weird and,
yeah, definitely exciting.

Our school was playing St Ann's in the semi-final of the
Glasgow schools competition. Liz didn't want to go but
Stephanie decided to check out the talent on the Catholic
team. Don't think she meant their football skills. For the
second half we were standing beside the Catholic team
coach, who wasn't a PE teacher but a priest who spoke
with an Irish accent. Near the end of the game, since his
team were winning one–nil, he took off a striker and sent
on a reserve defender. Before going on, the boy crossed
himself like Catholics do sometimes, and started muttering
a prayer. I assumed the priest would be pleased by
this, but no. He hissed at his player, 'Cut the crap and get
on the pitch, you eejit. Do you want us playing a man
down?'

Charming.

The Catholic team won. Having said that, Osman, who
is our best midfielder, was off with a sprained ankle and
his replacement, the new guy that Gary didn't like, was
useless. Although I suppose he might have been having
an off day.

Mr Ferguson took the defeat pretty well. He came over
to the priest, shook his hand and said, 'God seemed to be
on your side this afternoon, Father.'

The priest smiled back but said, 'You could say that,
Hugh. Or then again you could say that we were the
better team; more talented, better organized and with a
first-class coach.'

Mr Ferguson laughed. 'Fair enough, Father. Are you
up for a pint?'

'Is the Pope a Catholic? And you'll be paying, I take it,
to acknowledge your well-deserved defeat against an
overwhelmingly superior opposition.'

'Aye, that will be right.'

After the match Chris decided to walk home with us
rather than go on the minibus with Mr Ferguson and the
rest of the team. We talked about the game for a while
even though Stephanie was sighing with exaggerated
boredom.

Chris conceded that the other team were 'better on the
day' and so deserved their victory. I knew he was right
but his reasonable attitude kind of annoyed me.

We left him to get changed at his house and Stephanie
came back with me.

As soon as he'd gone in she said, 'He's keen.'

'Yeah. Chris loves football. He's pretty good too.'

'No, I meant on
you
. Keen on you.'

'What? Don't be stupid. He's my friend – I've known
him for ages. He's, well, more like a brother really.'

Stephanie raised a sceptical eyebrow. 'You think?'

'Definitely.' God, maybe she doesn't know as much
about boys as I'd thought. How could she possibly
imagine Chris fancied me?

She shrugged. 'OK, so you're still up for meeting
Harry then? We'll start tomorrow.'

'I'm going to meet him tomorrow!' I said, suddenly
panicked. Oh God, this was too soon. What if he didn't
fancy me? Or worse, what if he pretended he fancied me
for a laugh then told all his friends about it. I'd be so
humiliated. This was a stupid idea.

'I'm not ready,' I said. 'It's too soon.'

'You can say that again. No way are you ready.'

'But why—?'

'Tomorrow you're coming over to my house for a complete makeover.
Hair, face, body – the lot.' She paused to examine me and frowned. 'And
clothes. What
are
you wearing? Didn't our shopping trip teach you anything?'
She shook her head and sighed. 'Brown combats with a khaki T-shirt. This isn't
the army. You're trying to get noticed, not camouflaged. God, we've got such
a lot of work to do.'

Stephanie had given me another bigger photograph of
Harry to keep, so when I got home I took it out and
studied his face again. Yeah, he was really OK looking –
or 'not too shabby', as Stephanie put it. I wondered what
it would be like to snog him. Or any boy really.

Tried kissing the photo but it felt stupid and left a wet
bit in the middle, so I put it on a radiator to dry then went
downstairs and switched on the TV.

Flicked through the channels and found a programme
with Indie music, then danced about for a while until
Smashed came on. They were playing a ballad and the
camera was focusing on a close-up of the lead singer,
Jason. God, he was gorgeous. Much, much better than
Harry. I went right up to the screen so I was nearly touching
it. Nearly touching Jason, his lips just a centimetre
from mine. Well, why not?

I tilted my head to the side, closed my eyes, and
screamed. Sodding static.

Decided to Google Jason this morning. Not that I was
being stupid and obsessive like Debbie was with the
guitarist, Matt. Actually I should say 'used to be' as she's
now totally gone off him and is 'in love' with some actor
in
Doctor Who
. No, I just wanted to find out stuff like what
Jason's musical influences were, if he'd plans for a new
album and whether he'd a girlfriend or not. Because, of
course, a girlfriend can be an influence musically.

Jason doesn't have a girlfriend.

Went over to Stephanie's for the makeover and brought
my heels with me like she'd asked. Was nearly late as I'd
spent ages finding out about Jason. It's amazing how
much information there was on him. Almost feel like I
know him now.

Liz was already there. She'd come to 'supervise and
advise'. And to eat the smoked salmon sandwiches
followed by chocolate profiteroles, which Stephanie's
mum had laid on for our lunch.

After lunch Stephanie told me to strip off and put on a
white towelling dressing gown. I refused to take off my
underwear, which annoyed her.

'A beautician,' she said, 'is like a gynaecologist. Used
to seeing and dealing with every part of a woman's body.'

'Not mine.'

She tied my hair back with a white band, then slapped
thick, gungy green face pack over what seemed like most
of my upper body. Next she looked at my legs and shook
her head. 'Ugh. That has to go.'

'My legs? What's wrong with them? I like them.'

'No, you idiot. The total forest growing on them.
Gross.'

This was unfair. I've never had hairy legs like some
girls do, so I don't need to shave them – or so I thought.
But Stephanie insisted that legs had to be as bald as boiled
eggs. And shaving was out of the question. I wasn't a boy.

When Stephanie ripped the first wax strip off my leg I
screamed in agony and leaped up. There was no way I
was letting her do that again – even if, as she pointed out,
it would look as though someone had started to mow my
shin then got fed up. But Stephanie and Liz were
determined, and in the end Liz held me down on the floor
by sitting on my chest, and Stephanie continued waxing
while I writhed and screamed.

My screams brought Stephanie's mum into the room.
Thank God. I was going to be rescued. But she just looked
at the three of us on the floor and smiled.

'You girls having fun?' she said, and left.

Hope I never have to fight for my country, get
captured and then tortured to reveal important secrets. I
would tell everything if the pain was anything like
having my legs waxed.

Absolutely refused to have the bikini wax and
threatened to report them for indecent assault if they tried
to make me. Anyway, as I said, 'It's October. Why would
I wear a bikini on a date?'

The rest of the afternoon was much more fun.
Stephanie let me try on loads of clothes from her huge
walk-in wardrobe and insisted I keep a strappy red Ted
Baker dress which she said I looked amazing in and was
a bit tight for her.

Then she got out a make-up box the size of a suitcase
and did my face lots of different ways, finally going for
what she called a 'sultry' look, with slate-blue and purple
eye shadow, red lips and just a touch of frosted blusher. It
was amazing how old I looked after Stephanie had
finished. Fantastic.

Stephanie was pleased with her work, saying she
knew all along I had potential.

'Only thing now, Kelly Ann, is your hair. It's a disaster.
Who's your hairdresser? He should be arrested.'

Hmm. Didn't like to say it was Aunt Kate, who wasn't
a real hairdresser but I thought did my hair OK. Better
than Mum anyway, who once cut my fringe so short I
looked like Frankenstein.

Stephanie gave me the contact details for Albert, the
hairdresser she uses, saying he was the best and to
mention her name.

I wore the red dress and heels to go home. Even
though I was a bit cold, despite my warm black jacket, I
just didn't want to take the dress off just yet. It made me
feel so good somehow. Feminine and, yeah, kind of sexy.

Couldn't help noticing the way boys were looking at
me. Even some older boys. One of them smiled at me. Not
a sleazy smile, more a kind of 'you look nice' smile.

It was strange getting attention from people who
didn't even know me just because of how I looked. But
nice strange. Exciting. Like suddenly discovering you've
got some kind of magical power you never knew you
possessed. Yeah, maybe being more grown up and girly
wasn't as boring as I used to think.

Not the waxing though. Too much pain.

Have decided to try Tampax again as I think it's more
grown up and lets me wear what I want no matter what
time of the month it is. Stephanie hasn't used anything
else for years and Liz has now moved on to them as well.

I confided to them that I couldn't get the hang of it
before. Stephanie told me to try Vaseline while Liz
advised me to use a hand mirror for guidance. Have
decided to do both.

Borrowed a Tampax from Angela's underwear drawer.
Noticed the condoms had gone. Instead, there was a
prayer book and a leaflet on Christian relationships.

It's weird really. Don't like David much but have to
admit he's much better looking than Graham ever was.
You'd think if Angela was going to do it with anyone, it
would be David, but obviously not. Maybe it's the
religion thing. Most of her dates seem to consist of going
to prayer meetings. OK, I know they play guitars there,
but still, it can't be much fun. Mind you, Angela isn't
exactly normal either. Maybe she's right into stuff like
that.

Couldn't find any Vaseline in Angela's make-up bag
but there was some lip salve that I thought would do just
as well. The small compact mirror didn't look nearly big
enough though, so borrowed Dad's shaving mirror,
which he keeps in his bedside drawer so it doesn't get
misted up in the bathroom.

Right. All done.

After nearly twenty minutes I gave up. Don't ask, but
all I'll say is this: when you can't do something with two
hands it's even harder with one slippery one.

Returned lip salve and mirror but unfortunately was
spotted by Angela and Dad in the process.

Angela said, 'What were you doing with my lip salve?'

Dad said, 'What were you doing with my shaving
mirror?'

I said, 'Trust me, you
so
don't want to know.'

Decided to give up on tampons. Like waxing, they're a
part of growing up that will have to wait.

In-service day today, so I didn't have to go to school, and
as Mum and Dad were at work I'd been looking forward
to a lazy, peaceful day at home. However, forgot that
Friday is also Angela's day off college. Unfortunately.

And she was in a foul mood all morning. First she
barged into my room brandishing a tube of toothpaste
that looked as though it had been strangled.

'Look at this!' she screamed. 'You've been squeezing
the tube in the middle again and leaving the top off.'

I shrugged. 'I always squeeze the tube in the
middle and leave the top off. But not that one. That's
yours. The super whitening one you bought specially
when you started going out with David. Remember?'

'Oh. Right. Well, um, don't do it again.'

Then she left, banging the door behind her.

Bloody hell. I'm used to the stupid bad moods, but
Angela mangling her toothpaste tube? There must be
something up with her.

I tried to avoid her as much as possible but she
stomped around after me complaining about everything I
did, from using the last tea bag to leaving toast crumbs in
the toaster tray.

At least she was going out with David this afternoon
so I'd get rid of her eventually. I went off to the living
room and switched on the TV to drown out her moans
but she came marching in after me grumbling about the
teaspoon I'd left on the kitchen counter. I ignored her and
tried to concentrate on the programme, but when the
couple on TV started snogging Angela screamed, 'Turn
that off! It's stupid and . . . and . . . disgusting!' Then she
grabbed the control and switched it off.

'Bloody hell, they're not shagging. Just snogging. And
they're not even using their tongues. What's up with
you? You gone mental or something?'

'I don't know. I don't know!' she said. Then she started
sobbing.

'What's the matter?'

'I don't want to talk about it.'

'Fine.'

But then of course she did. Every single detail.

'It's David. He won't do anything with me. Not even
snog properly, never mind anything else. Says he's keeping
himself for marriage. And he won't get married for
anther five years at least, until he's finished university
and got a proper job.'

'God, that's weird.'

'It was so different with Graham. He was always so
passionate. Couldn't keep his hands off me.'

Ugh. Too much information. I changed the subject
quickly.

'Why don't you just dump him?'

'I did. Sort of. Said maybe we weren't, you know, quite
right for each other, but he wouldn't listen. Just said we
were perfect together and we should pray to God for
guidance to strengthen our relationship. That's what
we're doing today. Going to a prayer meeting.'

'To pray about your relationship?'

'Yeah.'