Girl With a Plan

Dates are binge triggers for me. The combination of alcohol (a given on a British date) and an entire evening struggling to connect with someone is – for me – potentially disastrous.

But last night I had a plan. I’d decided that no matter how much it cost, if I were feeling at all fragile I’d take a taxi home, since being delivered straight to my door would take me out of temptation’s way. I’d emailed one of my best friends – and one of the few people I can discuss binge eating with (I wouldn’t say “feel comfortable discussing” because I’m never comfortable with the subject) – for help coming up with a plan for when I got in my door.

What I hadn’t planned for was him cancelling. At 5:30 p.m., 45 minutes before I was about to head out to meet him. Because of illness. (Yes, this is the same guy who cancelled three hours beforehand last Friday, also claiming illness. When he said he’d call later in the week I had to bite my tongue from saying the illness I’d have to have to even consider going out with him again would be mental.)

I called a friend, who told me she was at Selfridges with a friend of hers and that I should come out and have a drink with them. We had some wine in the Wonder Bar and they talked me into trying some Nars smoky eye makeup. (I almost never wear any eye makeup, let alone extremely visible eye makeup.)

We hit Wagamama’s and I was dropped off at Highbury Corner at 10:30, still feeling vaguely depressed and very all-dressed-up-with-nowhere-to-go. (Although I bought the ingredients for smoky eyes, I’ll probably never use them, let alone get the look as good as the makeup artist did.) For the hour before I got home, I’d been thinking about buying a small Green & Black’s dark chocolate bar, and when I walked into the newsagent, I only saw the big ones. I wavered. I spotted the small ones, finally, and bought one, feeling very sane; very in control.

After I ate it, I teetered briefly on the brink of a binge. Then instead of crossing the street to go back to the newsagent, I walked down the road to meet another friend in the pub. Where, for the record, I managed to pull at 6’4” tall dark physicist. Take that, Mr. Short (my height) Balding I Was Only Going Out With You Tonight Out of Boredom.