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Janice’s parting advice as she’d ended her call. He dosed
himself up with his strongest pain medication and dressed for the
occasion as smartly as he could in a designer polo shirt and beige
pants, hoping it was formal enough for the venue. None of his
tailored shirts or jackets fitted him any more, although they were
still hanging in his wardrobe in silent reproach. Getting rid of
them would mean admitting he was never going to get thin again and
he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.
    Before leaving for the
restaurant he mixed up a packet of macaroni cheese and ate it
carefully, spooning in every creamy delicious mouthful while
standing over the sink so that he didn’t spill any on his best
shirt. It helped to calm the nerves that were twanging quite
strongly at the prospect of spending an evening with a woman. It
had been well over a year since Louise had left, and they’d been
together for twelve and a half years, so his dating skills were
seriously rusty. He’d been young, slim and confident back then too.
He rinsed out the bowl and set it to drain, dried his hands on the
tea-towel, and summoned his resolve. He could do this.
Probably.
    He set the TV recorder to catch
his favourite shows while he was out and headed for the restaurant
in good time, conscious that he wanted to be in place before Cathy
arrived – with or without an escort. It might win him a few seconds
to make the right response and avoid looking like a total
idiot.
    He parked on the tree-lined
street and walked through the Botanic Gardens to the restaurant,
only wincing slightly as he climbed three steps up to the entrance.
He took a seat at the bar and ordered a light beer to give him
something to do with his hands. Moments later Cathy came bounding
up the steps carrying a large bag. She was dressed in skin-tight
cycling gear and made a surprised face when she saw Dennis.
    “Oh, hello – you’re here early!
I was hoping to make my magical change into a fairy princess and be
all pretty and demure when you arrived! Never mind.” She leaned in
to give him a quick kiss on the cheek and vanished into the ladies’
washroom. When she emerged five minutes later he was astonished to
see that she was impeccably made-up and wearing a very feminine
floaty blue dress. Her hair was loose instead of tied back, framing
her impossibly blue eyes in delicate tawny waves.
    He put his beer on the bar and
stood to greet her, hardly able to believe such a captivating
creature had actually asked him to join her for dinner. “You look
wonderful,” he said. “It’s hard to believe you’re the same woman
who put me through all that pain and anguish yesterday.”
    “Oh dear, was it so bad? I
wasn’t trying to be mean, I promise.” She looked so concerned he
hastened to reassure her.
    “Oh no, it wasn’t your fault – I
went harder than I probably should have on my first day, that’s
all.” He blushed. “I didn’t want you to see how useless I really
was. It’s a guy thing. We can’t face appearing weak in front of a
woman we’d like to impress.”
    Now it was her turn to blush.
“You wanted to impress me? Oh, that’s so sweet!”
    “Just what a man fears most,” he
sighed. “We spend all our adult lives trying to be strong,
powerful, impressive – even a little dangerous, and it’s all undone
when you call us sweet.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why we
bother.”
    “Sorry, I didn’t mean to dent
your male ego. I assure you, sweet is a good thing in my book.
There are far too many men out there who haven’t a sweet thought in
their heads. I’ve had quite enough of them.” The twist to her mouth
told him the bad experience still rankled.
    “I guess we could all do with
more sweetness from other people, couldn’t we?” he said. “It hurts
when those closest to us fail to provide it.”
    Their eyes met with an
understanding look.
    Over dinner they exchanged
horror stories about their previous partners, finding more in
common