🌶️ Sue’s After Dark Diaries – Episode 42

“Just One Quiet Night”

Reader Intro…

I Said “Quiet Night In” and the Universe Took It Personally

I need to stop saying “quiet night in.”

Not because I don’t mean it.

I do mean it.

But clearly the phrase is being interpreted by the universe as a formal request for chaos delivery with immediate effect.

Because every time I attempt peace, something in my apartment develops opinions it was never asked for. Usually Dan. Occasionally Sharon. Always my phone. And, on rare but devastating occasions, my own decision-making.

This particular evening started with wine, low music, and the kind of optimism that should legally come with supervision.

Benji was present but emotionally distant, which in dog language means: I see what you’re about to do, and I refuse to be involved in the court case.

And Dan…

Dan was there.

Which is never reassuring.

Dan Refuses to Perform Emotional Labour (Again)

Dan has one job.

One.

And yet tonight he decided to unionise.

I turned him on gently, like someone trying not to offend a sensitive appliance.

Nothing.

Not even a polite warm-up buzz.

I said, out loud, “Don’t do this tonight.”

Dan did nothing.

Then, five seconds later, a tiny buzz.

Not performance.

Not commitment.

More like a sarcastic throat clear.

I stared at him.

He buzzed once more.

And then stopped again, like he had made his point.

I tried turning him on again just to test if I had offended him.

Nothing.

Which meant either he was broken or he was making a statement.

Then I felt guilty.

Which is ridiculous because he is not emotionally advanced enough to deserve guilt, but here we are.

Benji stood up, looked at Dan, looked at me, and left the room like he had a prior engagement elsewhere in a more stable household.

I genuinely respect that dog’s boundaries.

The Scroll That Should Have Been Harmless (It Was Not)

At this point, I did what I always do when reality becomes slightly disrespectful.

I picked up my phone.

Not for anything specific.

Just emotional buffering.

Which is how I saw it.

A post.

Some woman casually talking about a local bodywork therapist called Jake.

Apparently, “life-changing tension release” had been achieved.

Apparently, people were “walking out lighter.”

That word again.

Lighter.

As if I were currently carrying something heavy that I had forgotten to declare.

I clicked.

Bad decision.

Obviously.

Jake Exists (Unfortunately Calmly)

Jake’s page is calm in a way that feels personally insulting.

Everything about it suggests:

• emotional stability
• controlled environment
• no nonsense behaviour
• hands that probably do not argue with technology

I don’t trust people like that.

People like that either:

1. know something I don’t
   or
2. are about to show me something I didn’t ask to learn

Still.

I glanced at Dan

Nothing

No faithful Buzz

He usually has so much to say

Tonight?

Nothing.

Not even a courtesy buzz.

Honestly, if he was going to abandon me emotionally, the least he could do was communicate properly.

Benji was still out on the verdict.

Dan had gone silent.

The room had gone silent.

Even my wine seemed concerned.

Then Marvin Gaye started singing Let’s Get It On.

Which felt less like a song choice and more like the universe filing an official recommendation.

Even Spotify had apparently picked a side.

Well.

That settled it.

Dan had resigned.

Marvin had spoken.

I called.

Because my judgment has no long-term strategy.

He answered immediately.

Calm voice.

Too calm.

The kind of calm that makes your own thoughts suddenly feel like they’re speaking too loudly in public.

One slot left tonight.

Of course there is.

Of course my life only runs on the last available appointment energy.

I booked it before I could emotionally negotiate with myself.

Which is never a good sign.

I was getting my quiet evening.

One way or another.

Looking back, that was probably the exact moment everything went wrong.

Sharon Witnesses My Exit Like She Was Waiting for It

Leaving my flat felt like stepping into a situation that had already been discussed by everyone except me.

And there she was.

Sharon.

Of course.

Sitting in her car.

Engine off.

Window up.

Not going anywhere.

Just existing suspiciously.

I swear she spends more time monitoring the building than the council.

The second she spotted me, the window started rolling down.

Slowly.

Like a dramatic reveal in a crime documentary.

“Where are you going then?”

Not hello.

Not good evening.

Straight to the investigation.

“Just out,” I said.

Which, in hindsight, is exactly what somebody says before appearing in a Netflix documentary.

Sharon narrowed her eyes.

Not because she didn’t believe me.

Because she believed there was more.

There is always more, according to Sharon.

“Just out?” she repeated.

“Yep.”

“Looking nice for ‘just out’.”

Oh, here we go.

I looked down at myself.

I looked exactly the same as I always do.

But once Sharon decides there’s a story, facts become optional.

“It’s just an appointment,” I said.

The moment the word left my mouth, I knew I’d made a mistake.

Her face lit up.

Appointment.

That was all she needed.

Not details.

Not evidence.

Just a single word she could build an entire theory around.

“Ooooh,” she said.

That one word contained at least seven follow-up questions.

I could hear them forming.

So I did what any sensible woman would do.

I started walking away.

Quickly.

Behind me I heard Sharon shout,

“Nothing dodgy, is it?”

I didn’t answer.

Which was apparently answer enough.

I made it to the end of the road before she started her engine.

And somehow that felt like losing.

Jake’s Place Feels Calm in a Way That Should Be Illegal

Jake opens the door.

Oh.

Well, that’s unfortunate.

Nobody mentioned he was that handsome.

I had mentally prepared myself for a “local therapist.”

Not “man who immediately makes me forget why I came here.”

Honestly, the reviews should mention that.

It’s relevant information.

He is calm.

Properly calm.

The kind of calm that doesn’t ask questions about your life choices before offering assistance.

That’s suspicious.

He explains everything simply.

Too simply.

No ambiguity.

No emotional cushioning.

Just instructions delivered like he has never once been involved in a household appliance rebellion.

“Keep your underwear on. Use the towel. Lie face down first.”

I nod like I understand normal human instructions.

Then immediately walk in the wrong direction.

Because apparently my brain had already resigned for the evening.

Jake politely redirected me.

Not mockingly.

Not judgmentally.

Just calmly.

Which somehow made it worse.

Because if he’d laughed, I could have blamed him.

Instead, I was left alone with the knowledge that I’d managed to get lost in what was essentially one room and a treatment table.

An impressive achievement.

Even by my standards.

“Through here,” he said.

Still calm.

Suspiciously calm.

At this point, I was starting to wonder if he had ever experienced a stressful day in his life.

I, meanwhile, had experienced three since leaving my flat.

I wrapped the towel around myself and immediately became hyper-aware of existing.

Why is there no normal way to stand while wearing a towel?

Every position feels wrong.

Too casual.

Too awkward.

Too much like somebody waiting to audition for a role they don’t fully understand.

Jake, meanwhile, carried on being professionally composed while I quietly fought for control of my remaining brain cells.

The Hands Situation (Which I Will Not Be Normal About)

Here’s the thing.

Jake’s hands are not normal.

I know everybody has hands.

That isn’t the point.

These are hands that know exactly what they’re doing.

And I discovered very quickly that I was not emotionally prepared for that.

At first I tried being sensible.

You know.

Relaxed.

Mature.

A woman attending a perfectly respectable appointment.

That lasted about thirty seconds.

Because the second his hands started working, my brain immediately became less useful than Dan on strike.

“Oh,” I thought.

Then:

“Oh.”

Then:

“OH.”

Three very different thoughts.

All equally unhelpful.

At one point I actually opened one eye just to check he was real.

Because honestly, the reviews suddenly seemed suspiciously accurate.

Which annoyed me.

I don’t like finding out other people were right.

Especially strangers on the internet.

Jake remained completely calm throughout all of this.

Calm while I was internally conducting several simultaneous investigations.

How are his hands doing that?

Why is this working?

Why am I suddenly aware of muscles I didn’t even know I owned?

Who approved this?

Meanwhile Jake just carried on like this was a perfectly normal Tuesday.

Which for him it probably was.

For me it was rapidly becoming a significant life event.

Then he said:

“You can turn over now.”

Completely normal.

Completely professional.

As if he’d just asked me to pass the salt.

I turned over.

And immediately made eye contact.

Mistake.

Massive mistake.

Because up close he was somehow even more handsome.

Which felt deeply unnecessary.

Honestly, one of those qualities would have been enough.

The calm.

The hands.

The face.

Pick one, Jake.

Leave something for the rest of society.

Then his hands started again.

And oh my God.

His magic hands.

I know how that sounds.

I don’t care.

At that point I had accepted reality.

The reviews were right.

Sharon would be unbearable if she ever found out.

And my body had apparently decided to stop consulting me before reacting to anything.

Traitors.

The lot of them.

My dignity left first.

Then my concentration.

Then whatever remained of my ability to form sensible thoughts.

Honestly, if Benji had walked in at that moment, I would have struggled to explain any of it.

Jake paused briefly.

“Is that okay?”

Now.

There are moments in life where your brain and your mouth should cooperate.

This was one of them.

They did not.

“Yes,” I said immediately.

Far too quickly.

Like I’d been revising for the question.

I spent the next ten seconds annoyed at myself for sounding so enthusiastic.

Jake, meanwhile, remained completely unbothered.

Still calm.

Still professional.

Still apparently unaware that I was having a full internal collapse.

And then came the final betrayal.

My body stopped consulting me entirely.

Apparently, I was no longer included in decision-making.

“Oh my God,” I thought.

Then:

“Oh my GOD.”

And finally:

“Ooooooh.

This is why people keep talking about Jake.”

Which was extremely annoying.

Because now I understand.

And I had absolutely no intention of admitting that to Sharon.

Unfortunately, as future events would prove, that decision lasted less than twelve hours.

Returning Home Feels Like the World Has Updated Without Me

The walk home was a problem.

Not because anything happened.

Because nothing happened.

And somehow that felt worse.

I was smiling.

Actually smiling.

Like some sort of emotionally stable person.

Disgusting.

I kept catching myself doing it.

Shop window.

Smile.

Crossing the road.

Smile.

Waiting at a crossing.

Still smiling.

Honestly, it was becoming suspicious.

By the time I reached my building I looked like I’d won a competition nobody else knew existed.

The second I opened the front door, Benji appeared.

Not excited.

Not happy.

Just… present.

Watching.

Judging.

Auditing.

The sort of look that says:

“Go on then.”

“Explain yourself.”

I pointed at him.

“Don’t.”

Benji sat down.

Which somehow felt more threatening.

I stepped into the living room.

And there was Dan.

Exactly where I’d left him.

Silent.

Motionless.

Sulking.

I knew he was sulking.

People will say a vibrator cannot sulk.

Those people have clearly never met Dan.

I looked at him.

He looked at me.

Well.

Emotionally.

Nothing buzzed.

Nothing moved.

The atmosphere in the room felt weird.

Like I’d come home after being caught having an affair with emotional wellbeing.

“Oh don’t start,” I told him.

Dan remained silent.

Which was incredibly passive aggressive.

Benji jumped onto the sofa.

Then looked at Dan.

Then looked at me.

Then back at Dan.

Brilliant.

Now even the dog was comparing notes.

“I just had a massage,” I said.

Nobody responded.

Which somehow made me sound guiltier.

I sat down.

Still smiling.

Still annoyingly relaxed.

Still thinking about Jake’s stupidly calm voice and his stupidly handsome face and his stupidly magic hands.

Honestly.

Now I was relaxed.

Dan was offended.

Benji was conducting an investigation.

And Sharon was almost certainly going to ring me the second she woke up.

Which meant I had roughly twelve hours before this became everybody else’s business.

Morning: Sharon Calls First

My phone started ringing before I’d properly decided I was awake.

Which is never a good start.

Sharon.

Of course.

There are few sounds in life that immediately remove the concept of peace, and Sharon calling before 10am is one of them.

I stared at it for a second too long, which was pointless, because Sharon treats delay like emotional evidence.

I answered.

Before I even got a “hello,” she was already in.

“Oh good, you’re alive,” she said, like that was still up for debate.

“I am alive,” I said carefully.

A pause.

Not a normal pause.

A Sharon pause, where she is either smiling, judging, or building a theory she will absolutely not fact-check later.

“So,” she said slowly, “you were out last night.”

Not a question.

A statement wearing a question’s clothes.

“I just went out,” I said.

Which, with Sharon, is basically handing her a blank cheque.

“I saw you disappear around the corner.”

Which explained why she was calling with the confidence of someone who believed they had surveillance footage.

She continued, far too pleased with herself.

“I didn’t want to look like I was watching you… which I wasn’t… obviously…”

That “obviously” did a lot of damage.

Nobody says “obviously” like that unless they absolutely were watching.

Benji lifted his head slightly, like he was considering offering testimony but reconsidered the emotional cost.

Honestly, he would have made an excellent witness.

Unfortunately, he has chosen neutrality.

“I just went out for a bit,” I said.

Bad move.

Sharon latched onto it instantly.

“A bit,” she repeated. “Right.”

Now she had it.

“A bit” is Sharon’s favourite building material.

“So where did you go?” she asked, casually, like she wasn’t already halfway through constructing a timeline.

I hesitated.

Which was mistake number two.

Because Sharon immediately filled the gap.

“Ooooh,” she said, “that hesitation is interesting.”

It isn’t.

It’s me trying not to have my entire evening reconstructed at 9:12am.

“Just nearby,” I said.

Silence.

That landed badly.

“Nearby,” she repeated. “That’s very… local.”

There was movement on her end… mug down, chair shift, full narrative mode activating.

“You know,” she said brightly, “there’s that new relaxation place everyone’s talking about.”

And there it was.

My night had now officially been identified, guessed, and incorrectly filed under “community knowledge.”

I said nothing.

Which, in Sharon’s language, is confirmation.

“Oh my GOD,” she said immediately, delighted. “It was that, wasn’t it?”

It wasn’t a GOD moment.

It was a phone call turning into a public investigation.

Benji got up and left the room.

Honestly, same.

And Sharon, fully committed now, added:

“I knew it.”

Which she absolutely didn’t.

But Sharon has never let accuracy interrupt a good story.

“So?”

Silence.

“Is he as good as the reviews?”

Silence.

“Oh my God.”

“He’s that good.”

More silence.

“Sue?”

“Are you still there?”

Then I heard her gasp.

“Right. That’s it. I’m booking.”

Which is exactly the conclusion I was trying to avoid.

Then Sharon Switches to Broadcast Mode (WhatsApp Ignition)

I had barely recovered from the phone call when the first WhatsApp notification hit.

Sharon has a very specific communication style:

Step 1: Interrogate privately
Step 2: Explode publicly
Step 3: Enjoy the chaos she has personally engineered

Sharon (group chat):

“Ladies… I have news 👀”

Carol:
“What news??”

Linda:
“Is this about Sue??”

I physically closed my eyes.

Because yes.

Of course it is about Sue.

It is always about Sue.

Sharon:
“Saw her heading out last night… didn’t look like her usual evening vibe…”

That’s how it starts.

Not facts.

Interpretation.

Carol:
“Where was she going??”

Linda:
“Ooooh”

Sharon:
“There’s this new local relaxation guy apparently…”

Carol:

“Massage?”

Linda:

“Yoga?”

Sharon:

“It’s not yoga.”

Carol:

“How do you know?”

Sharon:

“Women’s intuition.”

“And then I called her.”

And now we are in trouble.

Because now the story exists, but incorrectly.

And once a story exists incorrectly, correction becomes impossible

Mark Enters the Chat

Mark enters the chat like a man who enjoys narrative disruption.

Mark: Oh yeah 😂

Jake?

Uni mate”

Of course he knows him.

Because, apparently, every man in my life attends the same conference without telling me.

Of course my life has academic references.

Sharon: “HE KNOWS HIM??”

Carol: “THIS IS GETTING INTERESTING”

It is not interesting.

It is me trying to have one evening.

Mark continues:

“Yeah Jake’s solid.

Mark:

“Oh yeah 😂”

“Jake?”

“Uni mate.”

“Always had ridiculously strong hands.”

“Didn’t surprise me when he went into bodywork.”

“Ladies swear his hands are magic”

“He’s very good at what he does.”

I pause.

Because that sentence should require a licence.

Sharon immediately reacts.

Sharon: “Sue, we need DETAILS 👀”

Carol: “Is he like… professional professional??”

Linda: “Good for stress, though I bet”

Sharon:

“Sue’s gone very quiet.”

“That’s all I’m saying.”

Everything is spiralling without me.

Dan buzzes once in the background like he is enjoying the collapse.

Benji leaves the room.

Which is now his formal coping mechanism.

Sue Attempts to Regain Narrative Control (Fails Immediately)

I type:

“It was just a relaxation session.”

Send.

Instant regret.

Because now it sounds worse than anything I could have said.

Sharon: “Of course it was xx 😏”

That emoji again.

It should be regulated.

Mark: “Yeah, that sounds like Jake tbf, but those hands are infamous”

Carol: “Sue, you’re glowing today, btw”

I am not glowing… Am I

I need to stop smiling,

I am confused.

There is a difference.

Final Collapse: I Am No Longer the Author of My Own Evening

I put the phone down.

Pick it up.

Put it down again.

Because I realise something very important:

I am no longer participating in my own story that should be private.

I am the location where it happened.

Sharon is the narrator.

Mark is the validator.

WhatsApp is the publication platform.

Benji is the emotional auditor.

Dan is the only consistent presence I still don’t fully understand.

And Jake…

Jake is the calm error that started all of this.

Frankly, those hands have caused far more administrative problems than they solved.

Dan still hasn’t apologised, by the way.

I sit there thinking with a glowing smile:

I asked for a quiet night in.

And somehow ended up as a trending topic in my own neighbourhood.

And honestly?

That feels like a very Sue problem. Again.

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