The Wedding Date. Jennifer Joyce

Mum adds milk to the drinks and places them on the table. Our family has always spent a lot of time either in the garden or in the kitchen. Mum and Dad don’t like to be cooped up and the kitchen offers the most light and a fantastic view of the garden through the French doors. When it starts to get a little bit warmer, the French doors will be flung open and the other rooms in the house will only be used when absolutely necessary.

      ‘It wasn’t bad.’ Dad sits down at the table, cradling his hands around his cup of coffee. ‘Some kid tried pocketing a stash of Snickers so I took him into the office and threatened to phone the police.’ Dad is the manager of one of the local supermarkets and seems to spend an inordinate amount of time dealing with sticky-fingered youths.

      ‘And did you phone the police?’ Mum opens the oven to check the food inside. The delicious aroma of shepherd’s pie fills the kitchen and my stomach rumbles. Why oh why did Lauren have to develop a crush on a guy at the gym? There is no way I’ll be able to eat Mum’s shepherd’s pie before a session.

      ‘Nah. The lad started blubbering and that’s enough for me.’ Dad blows on his coffee and takes a tentative sip. ‘And I told him, if you’re going to nick a chocolate bar, at least make it a Twix.’

      ‘Oh, Ray.’ Mum grabs a tea towel and whips Dad lightly with it. ‘You shouldn’t encourage them.’

      ‘I’m not, but if a job’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well.’

      I leave them to it, taking my cup of coffee upstairs to change into my gym kit.

      ‘Was it really that bad?’ Lauren asks as we stroll along side-by-side on the treadmills. This is the first time I’ve seen Lauren since The Worst Date Ever as I was too humiliated to relay what happened to my friends the next day and there was no way I was turning up to the pub quiz last night. Lauren and Ryan went without me and, for the first time ever, they didn’t come last. They came second-to-last, which isn’t anything to get mega excited about but it’s still an improvement. I’m not sure what to make of it. Does my presence bring down the intelligence of the group as a whole? Or was it a badly-timed fluke?

      ‘It really was that bad.’ I cringe just thinking about my date with Dan. ‘Worse, even. His friend soiled himself, for goodness’ sake!’

      ‘What were the band like? Any good? Because if they were anything like McBusted, a little poopy pantage is forgivable.’

      ‘Oh, Lauren.’ I sigh, long and heavy. ‘They were awful.’ The band consisted of drummer Dan, two keyboardists, Gary and Doodle (who shared the same keyboard and played it between them, sometimes seemingly at random), acoustic guitarist Mickey (whose guitar had a missing string), lead singer Leona and tambourinist, Tris. Munch didn’t seem to have a role other than leaping around and being a bell-end.

      ‘It was like at primary school, when the teacher hands out instruments and there’s just noise. I half expected them to burst into “The Wheels on the Bus”.’

      Lauren presses her lips together and I know she’s desperately holding in a giggle. I’m mad at her for half a second, annoyed that she finds my misery entertaining. But then I picture Munch performing a flying kick, making contact with the edge of a nearby table and falling flat on his back before being showered with some poor bugger’s pint and I find myself sniggering. I catch Lauren’s eye and that’s it, we’re pissing ourselves laughing on the treadmill, clutching the rail with one hand and our stomachs with the other.

      ‘So you won’t be going on a second date with Dan then?’

      ‘Absolutely not.’ The laughter drains away now. ‘What am I going to do? How am I going to face him at the pub?’ Some may say that finding a new local is a bit drastic, but I’m not convinced I’m one of those people.

      ‘How did the date end? Did Dan think it was a success?’

      I close my eyes but it makes me feel dizzy on the treadmill so I open them again. ‘He thought it went great. He wants to see me again.’

      ‘What did you say?’

      ‘I didn’t say anything. I pretended I had a phone call, said there was an emergency with my gran and ran.’

      ‘He probably knows you don’t want to see him again then.’ Lauren’s voice is matter-of-fact, absolutely sure with no wriggle room at all. ‘That’s the oldest trick in the book. You’re in the clear. The only thing you need to do now is find a replacement.’ Lauren suddenly yelps and batters the buttons on her treadmill, which quickly picks up speed. By the time fitness instructor Courtney wanders by, Lauren’s legs are pelting away, her ginger ponytail rhythmically swinging in time with her pumping arms. She stares straight ahead, her breathing controlled.

      ‘All clear,’ I say once Courtney is out of view. Lauren hits the emergency stop button and slumps against the machine, wheezing and panting and praying for death.

      ‘I need to sit down,’ Lauren rasps, so we step off the treadmill and make our way to the rowing machines. We move in rhythm, but there’s no effort involved at all.

      ‘So you need to find a new man to date.’ It’s ten minutes later and Lauren can finally converse without wheezing. ‘Anybody here who takes your fancy?’

      Of course there is. I wouldn’t endure this torture twice weekly if it wasn’t for the room full of buff blokes.

      ‘He’s pretty cute.’ I casually glance at the guy warming up by the weights. He’s tall and toned without being overly muscly.

      ‘Good choice.’ We watch as he stretches towards a high metal bar and leaps up to grasp it. Lauren shakes her head as he starts a series of chin-ups.

      ‘Nope,’ I agree as he grunts and gurns away, his face stretching into the most unattractive poses.

      ‘That’ll be his sex face,’ Lauren whispers and we both start to giggle. ‘Try again. What about him?’ I turn to where Lauren is gawping and spot a giant of a man. He’s as wide as he is tall, with bulging biceps and calves the size of oak trees. ‘Think how intimidated Ben would be if you turned up with that big boy.’

      ‘I’m intimidated by that big boy.’ I can’t do it. I’d be too terrified to speak to the bloke. If he looks across and sees us gawping, I’ll pee myself.

      ‘What about Mr Treadmill?’

      We both look back towards the treadmills, where one of the regular gym members is pounding away, clocking up the miles as sweat pours from his face. He has a towel around his neck, which he uses frequently to wipe the sweat away from his eyes. We see him here all the time but he never uses any other equipment. Just the treadmill, over and over again. He was on the treadmill when we arrived and he’ll still be there when we leave.

      ‘I want a date that takes place outside of the gym,’ I say. ‘And one that doesn’t involve running and buckets of sweat.’

      Lauren tuts. ‘You’re so fussy.’

      ‘Would you date him?’

      ‘Nah.’ Lauren stops her pitiful attempt at rowing. ‘But then I’m not desperate.’ She grins as I swat her. ‘I’ve had enough. Shall we go and get a smoothie?’

      ‘Yes!’ I leap up from the rowing machine, using up more energy than I have in the hour that we’ve been here.

      I’m hoping the perfect guy will present himself in the juice bar, all clean and sweat-free and easy to talk to. But there’s only me and Lauren in there so I make do with an orange and pineapple smoothie. I guess the gym isn’t the ideal place for me to meet men anyway. They’ll expect me to be fit and willing to exercise. What if he wanted to go jogging on Sunday mornings? Ugh. It’s exhausting enough pretending to exercise with Lauren twice a week – I really don’t want to actually exert myself.

      ‘So if not the gym, where?’ Lauren asks.

      I shrug and take a long suck of my smoothie. ‘I was hoping you’d be able to give me some pointers. You’ve