10 Dates

By El Kay

Louisa Williams is a middle-aged, foul-mouthed, fat chick looking for dick.

Except that maybe she’s kinda tired of all that shit?

Problem is, trusting men is not something she’s particularly good at.

And Etienne Dumas looks like every wet dream she’s ever had and feels like a future she’s not allowed to touch. 

But somehow, she finds herself agreeing to go on 10 dates with him. 

Oh fuck... 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Publishdrive
• Release date: Mar 18, 2024
• ISBN: 9781763521605

Book preview

10 Dates

Oh fuck...

Thank you to Ella Williams for always getting my jokes. For listening to my stories. For laughing in the face of trauma with me. For teaching me to be fierce when I felt like I was breaking. For loving me when I felt too ashamed to be worthy of love. You are my best friend, my chosen sister, the only person I’d hide a body for! I love you.

Thank you to my therapist. For obvious reasons.

Thank you to my exercise physiologist who told me that I really needed to write some of my life experiences down! And kept encouraging me to do it – even when I was sure I shouldn’t do that under any circumstances!

Thank you to the wonderful people who read through this book for me before I self-published it. People rarely know how much us writers need and love your comments. Especially the nice ones! I could not have been brave enough to do this without you. I was going to name you all, but I figured some of you might not want to be named in a book this crass!

Thank you to all the dickhead men who gave me the true stories part of this book… I hope every woman you meet sees right through you for the rest of your lives.

Zain, zkorejo on fiverr, thank you for the cover art… and for not losing your shit at me when I told you that Etienne needed to look like he was in love, you needed to give him more soul, it’s not about the aesthetics – it’s about the feel of the piece, the city needs to look like a warzone, this is a rom-com but not like that, I need you to understand the psychological journey Louisa is going through, each of her arse cheeks need to be rounder… thank you for taking it like a champ!

ISBN: 978-1-7635216-0-5

© El Kay 2024

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or modified in any form, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

10/01

Honestly

I don’t think I’m asking for too much.

I don’t wanna play therapist.

I don’t wanna be his mother.

I am never gonna be his fucking servant.

I am getting really tired of being basically a masturbatory aid.

I’m generally opposed to being murdered.

Problem is I don’t have much to offer, so beggars can’t be choosers, right?

Mum tells me that shit all the fucking time.

She also reminds me that I’m getting on a bit and just need to settle.

So she set me up on a blind date.

hahahahahahahahahhahahhahahahahahhahaaaaaaa

The fact that my third book has had a bit of success and is being made into a tv series means dick to my mother, all she cares about is no ring on this bitch’s finger.

She’s already got grandkids, so I don’t know what the problem is, but here we are.

And dad’s no better – he has some sort of man-brain that thinks I need a man to be man-safe in a man-world, and I’ll never know man-happiness alone.

I know all the shit my therapist says, and I know I need to be ok with being alone, so I don’t settle for a huge lump of shit in human form.

But I am sometimes very afraid that I’m never gonna be loved.

She asked me to think about what I want in a man.

So in no particular order, here we go:

Quietly confident (no brash alpha fuckery)

Knows what he’s about

THERAPY

Sees who I am and digs it

Communicates clearly and honestly

Sticks to his fucking word / keeps promises

FUCKING THERAPY

Likes touching me and stuff

Great at fucking

Feminist

Supports my career and has his own career

Works on himself – self care

In decent shape – doesn’t have to be perfect, just not on death’s door ya know

Doesn’t need to steal my light to give himself joy or self-worth

Has his own friends and interests and is supportive of my friends and interests

GOES TO THERAPY!!!!

Look honestly, a bunch of other stuff I can’t remember

Yeah he doesn’t exist.

And worse – I’m not this good – so I’m asking for more than I am.

At least I go to therapy.

And while I might be fat and suffer from rheumatoid arthritis that sometimes puts me in a wheelchair from pain, I at least don’t look like I drown kittens on the weekend in my bathtub for fun, like this dude my mother set me up with does.

Which – fair, ya know?

It’s the only way he’s ever gonna see wet pussy.

I know he has a kid and that means he must have seen some pussy.

But I’m telling you that thing was dry as the fucking Sahara when it saw his sociopathic face.

Settle???

Mother – do you want me to settle 6 foot fucking under?

This is the man you want me to breed with?

Thank fuck I’m getting old now, so she’s gotta be close to giving up on getting me knocked up.

And the conversation?

Wow.

He asked me what the most forbidden thing I had ever desired was.

I didn’t know what to say so I just said a gangbang.

Seemed like a good idea at the time, I don’t fucking know! I don’t really think about forbidden shit - I’m just trying to get ordinary everyday stuff like a man who’s a decent human being who actually loves me. Crazy I know.

His answer – human flesh.

Yep.

The most forbidden thing he had ever desired was to try eating human flesh.

What a fucking catch mum.

Reel him in and mount him on the fucking wall.

I don’t even know where she met this guy.

And she sends her first-born out into the night with this fucking psychopath.

Anyway, I made it back to my apartment alive and I am gonna eat crunchy peanut butter out of the jar with a spoon to congratulate myself for getting a story I can tell true crime podcasts in the future when this guy gets caught with 10 skeletons in his backyard – cos there won’t be any fucking flesh on any of them.

Tomorrow I am meeting the cast that are going to be bringing my book to life.

Very cool!

Much better than dating a serial killer – take note mother.

11/01

Hm.

Look I know I like reading people and understanding their motives and shit – it’s fun to study people. I think it makes me a better writer.

But I’m at a fucking loss.

I met the cast.

Most of the actors are pretty rad.

One of the actresses, Bethany, told me that I was very brave to wear a fitted dress.

I know that kind of fuckery – she means I’m too fat for a fitted dress.

I get it, but honestly, fat arses are popular at the moment so calm your flat titties Bethany, I’m sure everyone will cope seeing a fat bitch in a nice dress.

I know I shouldn’t say shit about her appearance.

But she fucking started it, and I am nothing if not petty.

And I know everyone is working towards body neutrality but fuck that - I wanna love my body. After so long hating it – I just want a bunch of love.

I’m not afraid to admit that I want endless love of every kind!

Unless I have to say it out loud to someone other than my therapist.

Cos fuck that.

People will think I’m desperate.

Probs am to be fair.

Anyway.

The real head scratcher was Etienne.

If you know anything about theatre lately you know him – he’s huge right now.

His mother is Tanzanian, his father French. He grew up in France, but he’s lived here for like, 20 years or something, building a huge theatre career.

He just played Poseidon in Epic the musical – he was fucking amazing – I saw him on stage!

His voice is spectacular.

I remember the chills I got down my spine when he was singing the ‘get in the water’ song – he looked like he wanted to murder the dude that played Odysseus – I fucking believed him.

Great actor.

But this will be his first tv show, and of course he’s got the lead - Joseph.

I’m excited to see what he can do with the character.

I might have been trying to keep my fangirl under control when I met him.

I think I did ok. Not great, but ok.

Especially since the conversation we had was kinda – I dunno - unexpected?

Crazy?

Unbelievable?

A figment of my fucking imagination?!

I’ma just write it down here because I need to just… think about this.

So there’s canapes and an open bar at this little shindig, and I’m at the bar after all the introductions and I’m just keeping to myself and letting the actors get to know each other.

There’s none of the writers that are helping me turn the book into a tv series there, so I don’t really have anyone to talk to.

But since I’m the author of the book, they wanted me there to meet the actors.

It’s all good, I’m not expecting much of the night – I got to meet some great actors and managed to not fangirl in front of Etienne.

Some wine, canapes and a quiet, unnoticed, early exit sounds great.

So I’m just there, minding my own fucking business and this guy has the fucking nerve to just saunter across the fucking room looking like every wet dream I’ve ever had.

He’s so unbelievably handsome it’s unfair.

I am too fucking old to have a pussy behaving like she’s a fucking teenaged virgin!

Looking at Etienne is like partaking in the best foreplay you can imagine.

I know I shouldn’t sexualize and objectify him like this.

Fuck.

Women have been telling men to quit that shit for decades.

But at least I didn’t do it to his face. Or yell it out of a car at him.

I’m not sure if I even managed to give him a welcoming smile when he approached.

I think I was too busy wondering what the fuck he was doing walking up to me. I thought he had to be lost. I wondered if he wanted to ask me where the toilets were and honestly, I didn’t fucking know.

But he just hits me with the sexiest smile I have ever seen.

Can’t tell if it was a natural smile or he was putting it on cos he knows he’s hot.

Ugh

And he says, I really love your work.

HE REALLY LOVES MY WORK?

WHAT?

And what do I say?

A writer?

A wordsmith, if you will?

A master of words?

A person that crafts words into tales and makes a fucking living from it?

I said, uh huh.

UH HUH

???

His smile drops slightly and then he nods and says, your first book really captured the immigrant experience perfectly. My mother thought it was brilliant. It’s because of her I started reading your books.

Now most people haven’t read my first book – so this is fucking astonishing to me.

That book is a very thoughtful, thought-provoking look at what it’s like to be an immigrant, and it’s a real conversation starter whenever I meet someone who’s actually read it.

So naturally I begin an intelligent, well thought out, scintillating conversation with this fucking god of a man.

By saying, yeah.

What the actual fuck, Lou?

You have had many conversations in your time.

Some of them were actually interesting and intelligent.

This is not a thing that is above you.

Somehow, he manages to continue the conversation, with a big smile he says, and your second book redefined romance for me. I had never considered that I was being too generic in my wooing of women. It taught me to take more time and pay more individual attention to women.

And I swear to fuck my brain just turned into a waterlogged noodle.

I say – wait for this masterpiece of linguistic artistry - Really?

REALLY?

RRRRRREEEEEAAAALLLLLYYYYYY??????

Louisa – you dumb fucking cunt – get your fucking shit together bitch!

I wanted to put my whole head down a fucking garbage disposal.

But he leaned closer and simply said, I would love to take you to dinner.

So of course my vagina turns into Cyndi Lauper and starts basically screaming at me about girls just wanting to have fucking fun.

But hold up my dear sweet pussy – there is no fucking way this man is interested in me sexually.

He is interested in me as a writer.

Ah finally my mashed potato brains are working again.

So of course, I have the only reasonable reaction to this.

I laugh.

He pauses and cocks his head to the side and asks me what’s funny.

HA!

Hahahahahahhaaa.

Oh fuck.

So do I have to admit to him that I actually thought for a moment that he might be interested in me in a sexual way?

Of course not.

And look – it’s not like I can’t pull dick. Of course I can.

It’s a universal fact that if you have a hole there is someone that wants to play with it.

It does not matter what you look like – dick is so easy to get.

Literally a dime a dozen.

Love is a whole lot harder to get – haven’t had that yet.

But dick? – easier to get than the wrong order from Menulog.

So it’s not like I think no man could ever want me – that’s demonstrably not fucking true.

But this man is far above my fucking pay grade.

He is quite literally the most attractive man I have ever seen.

And he actually got better looking on closer inspection – which is rare.

Most men are like impressionist paintings – better from a distance.

When you get close to them, you can see they have no idea what moisturizer is.

Or soap for some of them.

But Etienne clearly has an excellent skin care routine.

Damn.

And I don’t mind that this man is a beautiful stallion and I’m a fucking mule.

It’s fine. Mules are fucking cute.

I just know that he’s not looking to run with the mules.

That thought is fucking hysterical.

That’s what’s funny, mate.

So I say, I am a writer, so I have an overactive imagination. But it’s fine, I had a talk with her and pulled her fucking head in.

He gives a laugh. And his eyes meet mine.

And I’m just trying not to drool like a fucking mastiff – what the fuck is wrong with me?

And his voice is low and intimate when he says, what were you imagining?

So now I’m thinking – do I be honest with this dude or nah?

There’s nothing like honesty to really fuck up your day, so I decide to just throw that into the big ol’ shit smoothie fermenting in the blender of my social ineptitude.

So I say Look I’m 47 years old, I’m over playing around – so I put those imaginings to sleep, we’re all good. You don’t have to worry.

And he instantly says I’m not worried. What did you imagine?

Fine fucko – you asked for it.

I imagined that there was a little flirtation there. I look him dead in the eye while I say this.

He backs up a little, a kinda concerned look on his face and goes, hm.

And I’m thinking – that’s what I fucking thought, pal.

And then he leans back in and says, I must be way off my game, because there was a lot more than just a little flirtation there.

When I tell you that I suddenly became Clive Wearing and forgot how to breathe, think, fucking speak…

I said oh.

Oh.

Fucking OH!

But he just leans in even closer, his eyes looking right into mine, his hand getting very close to touching mine and says, and trust me when I say that I remember this word for fucking word – See, what I was imagining was that we’d go out on a date, and then another, and another.

He paused here and smiled.

There was a fucking twinkle in his eye.

A TWINKLE!

But this motherfucker wasn’t done. Oh no no no!

Around about 7 dates, until hopefully, I’ve done my job right, and we find ourselves back at my house.

And here he let his fingers gently