Mr. Commitment Read Online Free PDF

tears and immediately said yes. At the time I was really surprised by this story, because anyone who knew Charlie well knew that big romantic gestures just weren’t his thing.
    “C’mon, Charlie,” I said, smirking. “I need some tips on what to do. Surely you can remember how you asked my sister to marry you?”
    “I know you’re trying to wind me up,” said Charlie, laughing, “and it won’t work. I’m not alone in my actions, because when it comes to stuff like this, every man has a poem in his heart.”
    “It’s a nice thought, but mine’s bound to be more of a limerick,” I said, picking up my glass.
    “Nah,” said Charlie, and for a moment I could’ve sworn that I saw a flash of his special brand of wisdom twinkle in his eyes. “You’ve got a poem in your heart, mate. You’ve just got to find it. Okay, you get moments like this.” He glanced up at the ceiling pointedly, from where the sounds of Vernie stomping on the floorboards emanated. “But you know . . . I wouldn’t swap it for the world.”

I am not your mother!
    I t was late evening by the time I got back to the flat. The first thing I did was check the answerphone—no messages. The heartbreakingly pitiful message I’d left on Mel’s answerphone had obviously failed to melt her heart. My flatmate Dan was lying across the sofa silently watching the
Nine o’Clock News.
“All right, mate?” I asked, sitting down in an armchair in the corner of the room.
    “Yeah, I suppose,” he said despondently, his face half squashed into a cushion. “Got something in the post today.” He pointed to an envelope on the floor in the middle of the room.
    “What is it?”
    “Read it and find out,” he said, his eyes still fixed on the television. “Weirdness.”
    I picked up the envelope. Inside was a wedding invitation on cream paper embossed with gold. I read it aloud. “ ‘Meena Amos and Paul Midford would like to invite Daniel Carter and guest to their wedding . . .’ ” I stopped as it dawned on me what this all meant. “Your ex-girlfriend is getting married?”
    “Looks like it. I know him too. He was on my drama course at Manchester Uni. I’ve seen him on
The Bill
and
Casualty
a few times. Talentless git. Never liked him. Wouldn’t know Ibsen from his arse, that one.”
    “Why is Meena inviting you to her wedding?”
    Dan shrugged and changed channels.
    “I mean it’s not exactly like you finished on anything vaguely like good terms is it?”
    “Precisely,” said Dan. “Like I said before, this is pure weirdness.”
    “And anyway, isn’t it a bit early to be sending out invitations? It says here she’s not getting married until September.”
    “I know. She always did like to plan ahead.”
     
    M eena was the last woman in Dan’s life to have fitted the description of “Girlfriend.” They’d met at university and up until a year ago had lived together in the flat which I now shared with Dan. Back then Meena used to terrify me every time I met her. She was a complete maniac when her back was up and toward the end of her and Dan’s relationship her back was permanently in the arched position, teeth bared, claws out and hissing wildly. I couldn’t blame her really. As far as I could work out, since they’d moved in together Dan had begun some sort of mission to see just how far he could push his luck. The day they split up was the day that he found out.
    At the time Dan was working part-time as a security guard in between stand-up gigs while Meena worked as a set designer for a theater in East London. On the day in question I’d been round at their flat with Dan, trying to think up less soul-destroying ways of making money than temp work. What I didn’t know was that he’d promised Meena that very morning that he’d tidy up the flat because her parents were coming to stay. So when she came home early from work to discover a sink full of washing-up, me asleep on the sofa and Dan watching
Countdown,
she well and