Singles 2: Triple Trouble turned me into a Pickup Artist.
I was clicking away, trying to persuade the fella I was courting to allow me further than a kiss on the cheek. What’s the problem? I thought. Do I need to give him more presents before he’ll give up the goods? Is he holding out until I get a better sofa? I’ll tell him how pretty he is again.
No dice. What was it going to take to lever this bastard’s legs apart? I went to the bar and nonchalantly scanned the crowd for a likely-looking dish. Not her, she looks high-maintenance. Him? Too uptight – I get enough of that at home, if you catch my drift. Oooh, the description on that one says ‘bad boy’. Maybe that’s Singles 2’s polite way of saying ‘easy’? I hope so, I don’t want to waste much time on sweet-talking my way into his knick-
What had I become. I’d turned my single girl, Anna, into a hard-hearted monster who saw every pretty guy’s personality as an obstacle to his cock. And I was guilty by association.
Those objectifying mutters weren’t hers at all; they were mine. But I couldn’t seem to stop.
“He let me kiss him on the cheek, but he goes all weepy just because I asked him to bed?”
“I’ve done the hoovering, I’ve listened to your problems and I fixed the toilet, so give me a bloody blowjob already!”
“Christ, fine. We’re friends. I value you as a friend. Now put out.”
Sometimes it was as if Anna was trying to rebel against what I’d turned her into. I’d have her talking some guy – Magnet, perhaps? They were all alike to me by then; just locks I didn’t have the keys to open – slowly grinding the eroticism bar in the hopes he’d let her put her hand up his shirt, when she’d start thinking about getting some reading done. But he’s so close, I murmured. Just one more minute and you can sample that sweet, sweet piece of ass. And then she insisted that she wanted a sandwich.
At every turn, she vexed me. Briefly, I wondered whether I’d selected a lesbian single to control, but no. Everyone was bisexual – and even if she wasn’t, Magnet was girly enough that it shouldn’t matter. Maybe she was just a free-wheeling stud who didn’t want to be tied down, and his clingy vibes were putting her off. Maybe she liked the slow-burn of a long courtship.
Maybe she just had ethics.
Whatever the disease, the symptom was that she wasn’t getting her leg over and I blamed it all on him. Either he needed to deliver on those promises or I would dump him like the frigid tease he was. The only reason I hadn’t tried negging him was because the developers were less psychopathic than I was.
I’d like to say I came to my senses and learned to treat him with respect, but I didn’t. Instead I bought him endless gifts, mixed strong drinks, and told him I loved him until I got what I wanted – a sticky, soulless romp between badly-rendered sheets. Afterwards they snuggled, heads clipping delicately through each other, and I fancied I caught the glimmer of tears in Anna’s eyes.
She’d wanted him, yes, but not like this. She would have to wake him up in the morning, hand him his clothes and tell him all those sweet nothings had been just that: nothing. Alone in the twisted mess of my deceit, a friendship breaking in her hands.
I couldn’t bring myself to care. He’d been a lousy lay, anyway.
Reject Reviews updates every Thursday. You can read previous instalments here.