Free How to Get a (Love) Life by Rosie Blake Page B

Love’, it announced in bold capitals. The piece was accompanied by a soft-focus picture of a woman and her dog. It was one of those tiny poodle-type dogs, all fluffy tight curls and spindly legs. She was holding it up to one cheek. I read on.
    ‘ I’d given up on finding love but then love found me ,’ the woman was quoted as saying. Below, was another photo – a passport-sized picture of a reasonably normal- looking, smiley-faced man.
    ‘ I met Peter out walking our dogs and we just clicked. Our love of our pets brought us closer together …’
    Maybe that was it, I mused. Andrew and I lacked a shared passion to bring us together. Perhaps I’d meet someone more suited to me if I searched for a man who enjoyed the same things I did. I sort of enjoyed dogs. Perhaps I could meet someone while out dog-walking? That might work. I yawned, hand over my mouth, noting as I did so that I didn’t actually have a dog.
    But I could work around that.

Chapter Eleven
    Single girl WLTM nice man with a good smile and no deeply disturbing emotional problems.
    Contact: Box No. 1583
    Caroline jumped on me the moment I arrived at the office the next day. I couldn’t resist a smile.
    ‘You are incorrigible,’ I said, as she wandered over under the guise of watering the solitary plant on my desk.
    ‘What? I’m not doing anything!’ she insisted, her face the picture of innocence. ‘Sooooo … Fun night?’
    ‘Yes, thank you, Caroline.’
    ‘Enjoy dinner?’
    ‘Yes, thank you, Caroline,’ I said again, trying to concentrate on my email inbox. I’d had about eight from that wretched dating website Caroline had signed me up to. Apparently someone called Geoff had winked at me. Delete.
    ‘So, how is Andrew?’ she asked, changing tack.
    Ah, clever. I couldn’t avoid this one.
    ‘He’s very well. Busy teaching, obviously, but well.’
    ‘Teaching?’ Caroline repeated, wrinkling her nose. ‘I didn’t know he was a teacher.’
    ‘He said he’s been a teacher for a long time. Caroline, how well do you know Andrew?’ I frowned.
    ‘Oh, he’s an old friend,’ she said airily. ‘He seems awfully sensitive to be a teacher, though. He’s the only man I know who cried when we watched Titanic .’
    ‘Oh great,’ I muttered. ‘Something you could have mentioned before.’
    ‘What? Why? Men can cry,’ she argued, crossing her arms over her bosom. ‘Ben cries all the time!’
    ‘Caroline, Ben is six years old,’ I pointed out.
    James popped his head out of his office. ‘Nicola, can you bring me the info on that Channel 5 docu-drama?’
    ‘Men can cry, can’t they, James?’ cooed Caroline.
    ‘Sorry?’ James said from the doorway.
    ‘You don’t think less of a man if he cries do you, James?’ she repeated.
    ‘Er, where are they crying?’ he asked.
    ‘Oh, you know, around, just in general. Do you think less of a man if he cries?’
    ‘I don’t mind men crying when someone dies,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘So I suppose, no, I don’t mind men crying.’
    ‘Thought so,’ Caroline sing-songed.
    ‘Glad to have cleared that up,’ he said, returning to his office with a puzzled look on his face.
    Caroline turned back to me with a wistful expression. ‘Yes, Andrew was always a tiny bit on the sensitive side.’
    James re-emerged. ‘I bloody hate it when people cry when they lose the football, though, so it does depend on the circumstances.’
    ‘Hmmm, you have a point.’ Caroline nodded in agreement.
    I watched this exchange in amazement.
    ‘What do you think, Nicola? Men crying or not crying?’ asked James.
    ‘Oh, um,’ I blushed at being put on the spot. ‘Not crying, I think.’
    ‘Yes,’ he said decisively, ‘men should be men.’
    And with that he slammed his office door so hard the glass almost smashed. It was very manly .
    ‘Andrew is definitely the crying type.’ Caroline nodded.
    ‘Yes, I think the kids at school make him cry.’
    ‘Oh, how awful,’ she said, a very brief look of concern