I Followed the Rules

by Joanna Bolouri

on Wed. My phone rings. It’s Dylan. THIS IS NOT THE MAN WHO

rush to meet him the very

deadline?’ ‘Friday at the latest. And again, that is a stupid rule.’ I open

stupid? ‘Because being keen is not a character flaw!’ ‘...

Christ’s sake!’ I reply, spooning Müller into my mouth. ‘I ca...

. . . Are you eating?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘God, you’re worse

Soup? I can hear metal clanging off your teeth. Don’t do that with him.’ I bash my spoon

Only you could hear someone eating the quietest food ever.’ ...

Seven. Bring the book. If you can’t remember the a...

going to settle this Rules of Engagement nonsense once and for all. He’s so infuriating and so bloody certain that he’s right about everything. Then, miraculously,

take you to dinner on Wednesday? I’m about to reply YES, YES, A THOUSAND TIMES YES!

he said and Tom texted. Just like Dylan said he would. Ah! This is nuts. I wait

Very busy. Could manage lunch on Thursday? He speedily responds:

delighted I do a little jump and spill yogurt down my top. How classy. I do need help.

up from school at four on Wednesday, later than usual as she’s decided to give football a try and participate in an after-school

it didn’t go very well. ‘Ryan Rogers missed the ball and kicked my shin. The lady in the off...

inspect her little leg and laugh at the smiley face she’s drawn on the brown plaster....

Rules of Engagement, because it seems to be working well for my daughter.

now. We won’t have time to go home first. I’ve brought your stuff.’ We arrive at Peter’s house, but he doesn’t even bother

Wicker Man. ‘Hi, Emma. No new homework, but Grace needs to go over her maths again. She’s stuck on

fucking stupid title to give yourself. What next, the Spelling Sultan? The Algebra Assassin? Surprisingly, Grace finds

that it’s my one free weeknight and I’m spending it studying his bloody

night isn’t still etched in my brain. In the early evening light, the street he lives on looks nicer

restaurant I noticed last time now looks chic and inviting. I ring the intercom and he buzzes me in. At the top of the

door in jeans and a checked shirt, smiling. The same seductive smile he used on me that e...

here, you know,’ I announce loudly as I enter. ‘We did it here. It could trigger all sorts of shit....

look, then pulls open a drawer in the

He stops rummaging through his drawer and raises an eyebrow. ‘Unless you don’t

Tom now. A very nice, HONEST Tom.’ ‘I’m just messing with you. Relax. I don’t remember you

empty takeaway pizza box. Pig. ‘Found it.’ He hands over a copy of The Rules of Engagement and

pages.’ ‘Meh,’ he replies.

in writing, I lost interest in this.’ ‘Are you sharing with me, Dylan? Is there some deep, dark secret you’re going to disclose

making conversation. I’m getting another beer before we get started. You want

kitchen. ‘I’ll need snacks to soak up the alcohol!’ I shout after him.

least he can do is feed me. It might be an awful book but, begrudgingly, I can’t help but admire him for writing one at all.

raising his in the air to clink mine. ‘Here’s to helping you

you the error of your ways and . . .’ I open the crisps and my crunching drowns out the

beginning with the main rules, before going on to finer points after. This works for about twenty seconds before the discussion gets heated. He just won’t admit

do. I mean that’s nonsense for a start! I know plenty of men who text more than I do.’ He shakes his head.

park”. Men don’t like that. Stop the calls and texts or he’ll look for someone else, I guarantee

want to chat – what’s so wrong with that?’ ‘It’s too needy. You need to make him wonder where you are, what you’re up to. If you’re sending

your problem! You tar all women with the same brush in this book. “Rule 8 – Accept

though, Cat. You’d be surprised. You’re not happy with our job or our haircut, or our choice of footwear or the fact that we actually

good enough the way he is.’ He says this with such

obviously been told off for wanking too much at some point. He can see me considering all of these things.

when are you seeing Tom again?’ ‘How did you know he got in touch?’ I ask. He raises an eyebrow. ‘Oh, don’t look at me like

too much, don’t skip the food and only order dessert, don’t suddenly announce I’d prefer a summer wedding – all that

the couch to face me properly. ‘Uh, it doesn’t say anything in...

kiss on the third date is fine, but no groping, finger banging, oral or nakedness whatsoever, and especially not during lunch. Make him wait. If he already cares about you, when you eventually have sex he’ll be far more likely to see you again.’ ‘You sound like my mum,’ I joke. ‘Well, your mum’s

we can return to this.’ His blue and grey bathroom is tastefully minimalist but somehow cosy. However, his toilet seat is freezing and I finish peeing in record time, then take a quick peek in the mirrored medicine cabinet while I’m washing