Mad About the Boy (Bridget Jones 3)

9.20 p.m. Just sent:

DON’T MAKE IT ALL ABOUT THE BABYSITTER

9.21 p.m. Me:

10 p.m. Oh God, oh God. Leatherjacketman has not replied. Maybe he is out? With another woman?

11 p.m. Leatherjacketman:

11.05 p.m. Texted back then slumped. He wants to wait a whole week? How can he bear it?

Sunday 23 September 2012

9.15 p.m. Agonizing. Leatherjacketman has ignored me all weekend. Has clearly gone off me. If was ever on me in first place.

10 p.m. Am going to try to get things going again.

DON’T PREARRANGE FIRST-TIME SEX

Monday 24 September 2012

136lb, pounds gained 2, texts from Leatherjacketman (possibly as result of pounds gained, even though has not seen yet) 0.

9.15 p.m. Leatherjacketman has not replied. Thinks am desperate slut.

Tuesday 25 September 2012

135lb, texts from Leatherjacketman 1 (bad).

11 a.m. Just got reply!

He hates me.

Saturday 29 September 2012

Number of times changed outfit for date 7, minutes late for date 25, positive thoughts during date 0, texts sent to Leatherjacketman 12, texts received from Leatherjacketman 2, Dating Rules broken 13, positive outcomes of entire experience 0.

BE ON TIME, REMEMBERING THAT THIS IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN CHANGING OUTFITS AND PUTTING ON MAKE-UP, RATHER LIKE WHEN CATCHING A PLANE

7 p.m. Spent so long putting on outfits and taking them off again, that minicab went away, has not come back and now I cannot find taxi in street. Have sent series of hysterical texts to which only reply has been:

8 p.m. In the Electric Bar. Ended up bringing car but was so late that have had to dump it in residents’ bay where am sure to get a ticket. Leatherjacketman is not here.

MAKE SURE YOU BOTH THINK YOU’RE GOING TO THE SAME PLACE AT THE SAME TIME

8.10 p.m. Oh, shit! Shit! He didn’t say the Electric. He said ENO.

8.15 p.m. Deranged now. Just sent him text saying have gone to wrong place and now have to run to ENO.

WHEN YOU ARRIVE, BE RELAXED AND SMILE, LIKE A GODDESS OF LIGHT AND CALM

Turned up at ENO forty minutes late to be confronted by a greeter lady who clearly thought I was a mad person who should be ushered out.

I realized I couldn’t either see Leatherjacketman or remember his real name.

Eventually located him, engrossed, horrifyingly, at a long table of cool advertising-style people, had to actually go over and touch his shoulder to get his attention, at which he tried to introduce me but obviously couldn’t remember my name either.

He tried to get me to join them. But the restaurant couldn’t fit in another chair, so we had to go to a table for two, with Leatherjacketman repeatedly glancing over at his sophisticated friends, clearly thinking how much more fun they were than me.