Not the green-eyed monster!

I hummed and haa-ed about it for ages. I nearly rang Vicky – but I just knew what she would say. She’s really anti-Greg. She thinks he’s a slimy, manipulative, opportunistic Casanova who thinks he’s God’s gift to womankind – and the gift is as toxic as Snow White’s apple – and that’s on a good day.
‘But he was very kind when Gran died,’ I’ll say. ‘And he was really nice to me at his party.’
‘Only because he wanted to get inside your bra,’ Vicky insists. ‘Any boy’ll be nice when that’s a possibility. It’s called grooming, kiddo!’
She is so crude sometimes – and cynical. Why does it always have to be about sex when we’re thinking about boys? They must be motivated by something else sometimes – surely? Just being friendly and considerate, for example? Is that such an outrageous idea? I’ve heard people say that boys think about sex every two minutes. Just how is that possible? I mean, there you’d be, doing some complicated Maths calculation and half-way through it you’d completely lose track! On second thoughts, girls do consistently get better results at school than boys – maybe that’s why. And the world is in a terrible mess and it tends to be run by men. Actually, this theory could explain a lot. Depressing though, isn’t it? That so many big decisions might be the result of blokes thinking about boobs rather than bombs.
Anyway…to get back to Greg. In the end, at about half-past eleven, I texted Chas.

Are you awake? Need to talk, I wrote.

Half a minute later, my phone rang.
‘What’s up?’ said Chas. ‘I was just about to turn off the light.’
He didn’t sound at his most receptive but I’d disturbed him then and I knew if I didn’t talk to someone about it, I’d just lie awake and worry.
I explained.
‘So?’ said Chas. ‘What’s the problem?’
Maybe I was over-tired. Maybe I was annoyed that after all that worrying, he was taking it so calmly, as if it was nothing to be worried about at all. Maybe I wanted him to be jealous rather than completely OK with me going for a walk with Greg. Whatever. I wasn’t pleased. In fact, I felt like he’d just kicked me in the stomach.
‘Don’t you care?’ I said (well, squeaked actually, if we’re being brutally honest).
‘Care? How d’you mean?’
It was too embarrassing and difficult to say. How could I explain that, given our relationship, I kind of expected him to make slightly more fuss about me going dog-walking with a guy who had been (and maybe still was) one of his competitors? If he suddenly did the same with Cute Carly (his ex-girlfriend) I'd be really suspicious – even if it was for a job. That just made me feel so mean and petty that I couldn’t say anything at all for a moment. But then maybe I’d read all sorts of things into our relationship that weren’t there. I mean, all we’ve done is snog – and not even that very much. We spend a lot of time together – I mean, he’s my best friend, has been for ages now – but whenever we start getting physical, it never lasts very long. I see people at school or at the cinema sometimes and you’d think they were having a three-course meal, the way it goes on and on and on. But we don’t. It’s a quick fling and then one or other of us stops or makes an excuse. If it’s me, it’s because…well, frankly, it’s because I’m scared, actually. I don’t know quite what’s coming next and I’m not sure I want to go there at the moment. Well, I want to – but I’m not sure it’s right. I don’t know why Chas stops. Maybe he doesn’t really fancy me – maybe he’s just experimenting a bit. I mean, according to Vicky, once a boy starts, he’s almost impossible to stop. It’s like a launch at Cape Canaveral. And maybe the fact that he doesn’t seem to care about he going dog-walking with Greg proves he doesn’t fancy me.
Ouch! I’m sitting here, staring at this screen and I’m trying not to cry. I finished the conversation with Chas pretty quickly.
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘So that’s all right then. You think it’s OK for me to go.’
‘Yeh – course. He’s not going to rape you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I know he’s a bit of a player but he’s OK.’
‘No – I didn’t think that. I just thought with him – well, you know – he did want me to go out with him…’ I trailed off, lamely. Chas just didn’t get it, obviously.
‘Kate, you need the job,’ said Chas. He sounded exasperated. ‘If he gets fresh with you, just tell him where to get off. Anyway, you’ll be a bit safer going with him, than just on your own.’
‘Safer?’ I said. ‘I’ll be with at least two huge dogs!’
‘Whatever,’ said Chas. ‘I’m trying to make you feel OK about, all right? And I’m tired.’
‘Oh, OK,’ I said, in a small voice. ‘Thanks very much. Night night.’
‘Night night,’ said Chas. And that was that.
Doesn’t exactly sound passionate about me, does he? Not exactly keen to defend my honour or fight off all bids for my attention. And I thought we had something special going on – something beyond friendship. The trouble is, I do get jealous so easily. When he snogged Lisa, this cow in our year group who gives me a really hard time because she so fancies Chas, I was terribly jealous. And when I thought he fancied our au pair, Belle. And when he was going out with Cute Carly. But he just doesn’t seem to do jealousy. I can’t understand it. If you care about someone, surely you get jealous? Surely the fact that he doesn’t, means he doesn’t care? Or not much?
Sigh! He once said that whatever’s going on for him and whoever he fancies, he’s never really happy if he’s rowed with me – and I took that to mean so much. But maybe I read far too much into it. I mean, I’d be unhappy if I’d rowed with Vicky and I’m certainly not in love with her. Oh well. At least I know what I’m doing tomorrow. Going dog-walking with Greg. Sorted.