As the day draws to a close, I start to get all nerved up for the seminar tomorrow. I have no idea what’s in store for me. I just hope Jay keeps his promise and behaves himself.

Morning comes, and I dress in a simple blue summer dress with some black heels. I’m not in the mood to put in my contacts, so I slip on my glasses instead. Arriving downstairs, I find that Jay has yet again made me breakfast, oat pancakes smothered with honey.

“You are paying rent, you know. You don’t have to make breakfast every morning to keep Dad sweet,” I say with a soft laugh.

“How do you know he’s the one I’m trying to keep sweet?” Jay replies with a flirty grin, waggling his eyebrows and taking a seat opposite me.

I stuff a forkful of pancake into my mouth so I don’t have to respond.

“How about we make a deal?” says Jay. “I’ll do breakfast every morning if you do dinner every evening. That way it’s even.”

I grin as I chew. “Okay, you’re on.”

About an hour later, we arrive at the Hilton for the seminar. The receptionist in the lobby directs us to a function room where there’s a big banner hanging over the entrance. It reads: Kick-start Your Love Life with Simon Silver.

We’re each given a goodie bag and then ushered inside. Two women standing in front of us keep peeking over their shoulders at Jay, giggling to one another.

“Your gay act better be convincing,” I whisper to him. “Otherwise, I think you might have a swarm on your hands by the end of the day.”

“What are you going on about, Watson?” Jay asks, walking over to a water cooler to get a drink. I follow him.

“I’m going on about the fact that every woman in here has her eyes on you, and although that might sound appealing right now, it won’t be when we have a stampede on our hands,” I joke, though I’m also kind of serious. Today he’s wearing a midnight-blue shirt tucked into a pair of denim jeans, his svelte waist accentuated by a brown leather belt. The sight is more than a little appealing.

“Now, that would be interesting,” says Jay. He pauses for a second, hand on hip, then finishes with a camp, “Girlfriend.”

I put my hand over my eyes. “Oh, God. Please let me know when you’ve stopped doing that, whatever it is you’re doing.”

His deep chuckle moves closer to me and then his warm hand is on mine, pulling it away from my face. “Okay, I won’t do it again. I’ll just be one of those non-flaming gays.”

“I think that might be for the best.”

He continues laughing as he guides me to a seat about three rows from the front.

“Perhaps we should sit a little farther back,” I suggest. “I don’t want to be singled out to talk.”

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” says Jay, pulling me down to sit.

A woman sitting alone two seats away keeps sneaking glances at us. It’s plainly obvious that Jay is about as homosexual as Gerard Butler in the movie 300. On second thought, no, I need to think of a better comparison. 300 was so excessively straight it was actually unconsciously super-gay.

A few minutes pass by, and the conference room begins to fill up. Soon there are hardly any seats left. It’s reassuring to me that I’m not the only woman out there who’s hopeless with men. I can even spot a few girls my age in attendance.

A blonde sits down on the other side of Jay, smiling demurely and giving him a quiet but interested, “Hello.”

I want to stab her with the complimentary pen provided in the goodie bag. Okay, I should probably calm down. Just because we’re housemates doesn’t mean I have any ownership over Jay. He’s a free agent. Free as a bird, really.

Now, there’s a depressing thought.

Rummaging through the aforementioned goodie bag, I pull out a pamphlet containing ten top tips for finding a date. I’m starting to skim through it when some hip modern music comes through the speakers and a well-dressed woman in her twenties walks onto the stage. She does a quick intro for the event and then says, “So, without further ado, I give you Simon Silver.”

Jay snorts next to me. “That can’t be his real name. He sounds like a pirate from a kids’ TV show.”

I suppress a laugh, because it’s sort of true.

“Yeah, well, not all of us were blessed with ultra-cool names like Jay Fields,” I tease, and his body goes slightly rigid. Did I say something wrong?

Focusing my attention back on the stage, I deduct that Simon’s probably in his mid-thirties, though it’s hard to tell because his hair has blond highlights and he’s sporting a seriously hard-core fake tan, the kind gotten through years and years of sun beds. He’s even wearing a diamond earring in one ear.

I hadn’t really done too much research into the event, so this is actually the first time I’m seeing the man in the flesh. I can’t say I’m impressed. In fact, I’m feeling that squirming sensation in my gut that tells me this could turn out to be a massive cringe-fest.

Nine

Simon Silver stops right in the middle of the stage, wearing a headset microphone. “Okay, let’s get straight to business,” he says in his Australian accent. “I want each of you to take a piece of paper and write down your top five essential attributes of an ideal partner.”

Women all around me start to rummage for their note pads and pens. After a moment of hesitation, I do the same. I have to try my hardest not to wince, because Jay’s sitting back in his chair, casually watching me. As I start to scribble down five traits, Jay angles his head to see what I’m writing. I cover the page with my hand so he can’t look.

“Shouldn’t you be writing, too?” I ask, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye.

“Don’t need to.” He smirks and taps his forehead. “I’ve got it all in here.”

I concentrate on my page again. So far I’ve got: funny, smart, protective, and motivated. Deciding to hell with it, I finish off the list with handsome.

“Have you all got your five traits?” Simon asks from the stage, and there are murmurings of “yes” from the audience. “Great,” he continues before setting his sights on an Asian woman in the front row. “Hello there, what’s your name?”

The woman stands up and puts her hand on her hip before answering, “Meesha.” She seems confident and sassy. If he’d singled me out like that, I’d probably have forgotten how to speak.

“All right, Meesha. Would you like to read your list out for everyone?”

Meesha picks up her piece of paper and, without any hesitation whatsoever, starts to read, “Wealthy, good-looking, strong, sexy, and a big dick.”

Simon chuckles, his bleached teeth glowing against his brown skin. “I take it you mean you want him to have a big dick rather than be a big dick.”

Meesha laughs uproariously. “Yes, yes, that’s what I meant.”

“Funny, sounds like she was describing the latter to me,” Jay whispers conspiratorially.

Sounds like she was describing you, I think. Although I have no clue if the “big dick” part is accurate.

Slumping back in my seat, I mutter to myself, “Remind me why I paid eighty euros for this?” I must have said it louder than I thought, because Simon Silver’s gaze lands on me.

“Hello! The brunette over there in the third row wearing blue, would you like to go next?”

Oh, God, no. It’s happening. I’m the singled-out singleton. Voice don’t fail me now.

“Not particularly,” I mumble.

“I’m sorry, could you speak up?”

I sit up straighter. “I’d rather not.”

“Oh, come on. We’re all friends here,” says Simon. “A lot of what we’re going to work on today will be about confidence building. And what better way than to do a bit of public speaking, eh?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t.” I rub anxiously at my neck, so roughly I’ve probably left a big red mark.

Just as Simon’s about to make further efforts to convince me, Jay comes to my rescue. “My friend’s a little shy. How about I go instead?”