My Last 5 Girlfriends Page #6

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- What?

It seems to be winding down.

- Maybe we should go for a drink.

- Its a bit late, isn't it?

- Come on.

- Will anywhere be open?

Will, do you fancy a drink?

You can't say no.

OK.

That's it then.

We're gonna go for a drink.

I'm pretty tired, to be honest.

OK. Well, I'll see you tomorrow then.

I know this amazing bar in the West End.

Have you been to the Monkey Bar?

- I've heard of it.

- Oh, my gosh. You'll love it.

It has these huge screens

on either side.

- So... will I see you later then?

- Yes.

Don't worry, I'll call you

as soon as I get home, OK?

Anyway, as I was saying...

Of course, I had no problem

with Gemma and Will going off

for a drink without me.

No problem at all.

I was absolutely fine with it.

Hi, it's me. I can't get to the phone.

Leave a message.

Completely OK.

Over the moon, in fact.

Hi, it's me. I can't get to the phone.

Leave a message.

I was just glad that my best friend

and my girlfriend

were getting on so well.

Really, really well.

Hi, it's me. I can't get to the phone.

Leave a message.

People can talk problems

into existence.

Problems that aren't

even there in the first place.

You can drop me anywhere

round here, thanks.

- Will this do?

- Great, yeah.

Well, thanks. That was lovely.

It was, wasn't it?

I should get going, Will.

Duncan is gonna be worried sick.

Sure. OK. I'll see you around.

Bye.

Hi, it's me. I can't get to the phone.

Leave a message.

Hiya.

Gemma's alibi went like this:

She'd gone to that bar in Soho

and stayed there chatting till late.

By which time,

she'd had quite a bit to drink.

So she decided that it would be easier

to stop off in Bloomsbury

than travel all the way back

to Islington.

- Hi.

- I'm so sorry.

It's OK.

She stayed the night

at her girlfriend Paula's house.

She had wanted to call me,

but didn't want to wake me up.

After all, had I not said...

I'm pretty tired, to be honest.

All perfectly feasible.

But then she blew it.

Why are you making that face?

It's the one you like, isn't it?

Why had Gemma gone to all the trouble

of getting me my favourite cereal?

What was she feeling so guilty about?

After all, I thought

Three Cereal Oat Bran was...

It's far too expensive.

Surely, this proved she was covering up.

- The polygraph's clean.

- But she's Iying.

- She'll walk.

- What about the cereal?

- Circumstantial, my friend.

- It'll never stick.

I just know it, though.

Did you speak to Paula?

The whole thing's airtight.

She was there all night.

You must be able to do something.

Sounds to me like you want her

to cheat on you?

- Of course not.

- Then why look for problems?

- Maybe you're looking for a way out.

- What?

Perhaps you don't love her any more,

you don't want to tell her.

- That right, Duncan?

- Hang on a minute.

- Are you not man enough to tell her?

- No...

- I thought not.

- I do love her.

I'm not trying to break it up.

I want it to work.

Then what's the problem? The lady

clearly feels bad about not ringing you.

She's trying to make things up.

What do you do?

- You make her feel worse.

- She doesn't deserve this.

- What kind of animal are you?

- OK! So I'm wrong!

- I made a mistake!

- Damn right.

So, what should I do?

You need us to tell you?

Don't, not now.

I said once already, not now!

Right then, I knew it.

If I didn't act quickly, I'd lose her.

Look what I got today.

I had planned the perfect weekend.

A first-class trip to Paris.

Our own chauffeur on standby

for three days.

An executive suite

in a five-star hotel

with all the comforts and amenities

you could possibly imagine.

It even had a balcony

with stunning views across the city.

I pulled every string I could

to get a window seat

at a three-star Michelin restaurant.

I somehow managed to get

two tickets to her favourite opera.

I even booked a twilight trip

down the Seine

with music, champagne, the works.

And do you know what?

From the minute we arrived, I knew

it was going to be a f***ing disaster.

Have you got the key?

No, you said you had it.

No, I didn't. I don't have the key.

You've just locked us out.

I haven't locked us out. I just shut

the door thinking you had the key,

because the key wasn't where I left it.

That was really silly of you

because I don't have it either.

- So we're locked out, thanks to you.

- Thanks to me.

For God's sake, stop blaming me for the

fact that it was you who forgot the key.

I had nothing to do with the key.

I'm sorry. I did have it all along.

That's it.

Duncan.

Duncan! Don't be so silly.

Where are you going?

Duncan. Duncan!

Childish, I know,

but I felt I deserved a sulk.

I'd put up with so many of Gemma's.

Wasn't it my turn?

Successful sulking, a guide.

One, the sulk must be sparked

by some wrong-doing,

the more trivial the better.

Two, the punishment

inflicted by the sulk

must be disproportionately large

in relation to the original offence.

Three, beware of

making sulks too short

and therefore not allowing sufficient

guilt to build up in the sulked.

Four, the sulk should never be about

the incident that sparked it.

For example, for...

I am angry at you for accusing me

of losing the key.

...read...

I am angry at you

for not loving me any more.

Five, the sulk should be

gauged a success if and only if

the sulker has to be talked out

of the sulk by the sulked.

So? Are you gonna

forgive me or what?

Come on. You know I hate

leaving arguments unresolved.

Anyway, we're on holiday. We're

supposed to be enjoying ourselves.

OK.

We were on our best behaviour

that night, trying to avoid tensions.

In fact, if you had watched the scene

from the matre d's point of view,

we would have seemed like

the classic romantic couple.

Little would you know, however,

that our relationship had just

entered a dark new phase,

a phase called romantic terrorism.

You see, my sulk had been

little more than an attempt

to force Gemma to love me.

Dialogue had failed.

Is something wrong?

No. Should there be?

I just thought you might

want to talk about things.

- About what things?

- About us.

- You mean about you.

- No, I mean about us.

I had to break the deadlock

in our romantic negotiations.

So on the way back to the airport,

I flirted with a woman

we met at the hotel. It was just

an attempt to make Gemma jealous.

But she called my bluff

by acting unconcerned.

There will be no negotiation

with terrorists of any kind.

She wouldn't allow me

the pleasure of a jealous reaction.

I may have scored a minor victory

with my afternoon sulk,

but it was a hollow victory

because the romantic terrorist

is doomed to be disappointed.

You must love me.

I will force you to love me by sulking

you and making you feel jealous.

But if you force me,

it will never be spontaneous love

and therefore never genuine love.

OK, let her go.

Are you all right?

You're too good for me.

What?

I said you're too good for me.

What?

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