The Flatshare

by Beth O'Leary

I actually wonder if it’s easier to get laid as a quirky girl than a perky cheerleader type: You’re more approachable, and nobody assumes you’ve already got a boyfriend.

I actually wonder if it’s easier to get laid as a quirky girl than a perky cheerleader type: You’re more approachable, and nobody assumes you’ve already got a boyfriend.

“What kind of drunk are you?” Rachel asks, as we grind inappropriately to classic Destiny’s Child. “I’m a bit … thoughtful,” I shout at her. “Too analytical to sleep with that nice man.”

“What kind of drunk are you?” Rachel asks, as we grind inappropriately to classic Destiny’s Child. “I’m a bit … thoughtful,” I shout at her. “Too analytical to sleep with that nice man.”

That feeling again, the trapped hateful rage at hearing someone you try so hard to love saying the worst things.

Life is often simple, but you don’t notice how simple it was until it gets incredibly complicated, like how you never feel grateful for being well until you’re ill, or how you never appreciate your tights drawer until you rip a pair and have no spares.

“Of course we do. I remember every bloody minute of it. He was vile to you. He’d tell you where to be and how to get there, and then he’d walk you there because you wouldn’t be able to find your way on your own. He’d make every argument your fault, and he wouldn’t give up until you were sorry. He’d ditch you and then pick you up again at a moment’s notice. He told you you were overweight and weird and nobody else would want you, even though you are clearly a goddess of a woman and he ought to have felt lucky to have you. It was terrible. We hated him. And if you hadn’t banned me from talking about him, I would have told you that every bloody day.”

I have a feeling Tiffy becomes “our girl” easily—she’s the sort of person distant relatives and absent neighbors still like to claim some credit for.

It’s weird how easily you can get to know someone from the traces they leave behind when they go.

“Relationships like that stop being about ‘voluntarily’ very quickly. There’s lots of ways someone can make you stay with them, or think you want to.”

Remind myself that there is no saving of people—people can only save themselves. The best you can do is help when they’re ready.

I can feel that he’s doing one of those lopsided smiles, and it all seems too good, like we can’t possibly deserve it, like we’re taking too much happiness and not leaving enough for everyone else.