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Mark had found the perfect present for his wife’s birthday. Bridget had texted him a link several weeks ago with exactly what she wanted. So he immediately went out and purchased it. Spoiling his wife could be fun, and he enjoyed it at their anniversary, Valentine’s, Christmas, and often just because. Whether he was tracking down a gold tennis bracelet, having flowers delivered to freshen up their living space or her office or finding the perfect personalised gift that showed his love much more than a bottle of Chardonnay or Prosecco, it was exciting to ponder what reaction his gift choice would elicit. But she’d obviously had a specific item in mind. So out the window went self-care essentials like the electric diffuser with a set of essential oils he’d had his eye on, which was a wellness necessity and, therefore, a gift Bridget would have appreciated. The woman at the gift counter recommended a vial of a calm fragrance oil infused with juniper berries, sage, and relaxing jasmine. Mark recalled his mother had received a diffuser at her Ruby Anniversary party, and Bridget admired it immensely. He had also thought about a memorable experience gift, such as a weekend getaway, afternoon tea for her and friends, or a themed gift hamper stuffed with delicious treats (he’d even seen the hamper advertised as the perfect present for the woman in your life).
Her friends Magda, Sharon, Jude, and Tom had also found a similarly perfect gift by clicking on a different link. But when it came time to plan the day, she was uncharacteristically evasive.
“I can’t decide,” Bridget said, rubbing her chin in contemplation.
“That’s perfectly fine, darling. Do you want to go out?” he asked, expecting she’d jump at the offer.
“I don’t think so.”
Hmm. “Do you want to stay in?” Mark asked, surprised.
“No,” she replied.
Jude was away, but Tom, Sharon, Fergus, Magda, and Jeremy agreed to drop by after work. Bridget arrived home in the afternoon with a double chocolate cake for herself. But when asked, she still didn’t have a plan.
“Do you want to watch a film?” he suggested, grasping at straws.
“I don’t know,” she said, providing no help.
As the day wore on, he deemed himself exceptionally prepared, having already procured the present a week prior. He had a stash of birthday cards in his desk lest he was to ever forget one, on top of having spent an inordinate amount of time picking a special greeting at Boots. But it somehow felt unsettling having no plans.
At six, Tom arrived. Jeremy, Magda, Sharon, and Fergus turned up 20 minutes later. The presents were opened, and they were exactly what his wife wanted—until she opened Tom’s gift. She reached into the colourful bag and pulled out some matching tissue paper, then a small box wrapped in paper and a matching bow. She turned her gaze towards her friend, her expression questioning, then removed the bow before tearing off the paper.
Inside was a box discreetly labelled Womanizer Clitoral Vibrator.
Bridget’s face went blank. Once she realised exactly what she was holding, she turned a bright shade of crimson and took a deep breath. Not that she was embarrassed by what Tom had gifted her, but more so that Mark would assume she had texted Tom the link, and that she in any way thought him lacking in the bedroom.
“Yes, these are having quite a moment, and while we're all for oral-style sensations, we also know that variation is one of the keys to a satisfying sex life. This one offers rumbly external stimulation exactly where you want, AKA—” Tom started.
“Tom!” interrupted Magda, “best to leave that to the imagination.”
Tom smiled knowingly before continuing unperturbed, “It has eight intensity levels and two Autopilot modes. There’s even some environmentally friendly water-based lube in there.” Tom glanced at Mark. “And with your favourite partnered positions, this will earn you serious brownie points. Trust me,” Tom said smugly.
Shaz looked as if she were going to burst while Jeremy quietly excused himself, laughing or choking—Mark couldn’t discern which—as he headed for the kitchen. Then, for several moments, Bridget said nothing.
“Isn’t it pub trivia quiz tonight,” Tom asked suddenly. “Bridgelene, why don’t we go?”
Mark flashed him a look that said, “That is a horrible idea.” But Tom wasn’t looking at him; he was looking at Bridget.
“Actually, that’s exactly what I want to do,” she said gleefully, clapping her hands as she recovered her composure, glad for a change of subject.
“Really?” Mark asked. “You’re sure?” He immediately felt it came out wrong, a bit like: do you know all the effort a pub quiz involves?
“Yes, I’m positive,” she said, throwing him a side-eye. “Let’s go. It’ll be relaxing.”
Mark rose to his feet. “OK,” he said warily, looking at her as if to say, “You are the source of all that is opposite to relaxing.”
The pub was primarily empty when they arrived, and the few people imbibing there didn’t look like quiz aficionados. But as 7.00 pm approached, the room began to fill up. There were perhaps five teams, one surprisingly made up of Tom’s colleagues at the gym where he taught.
Bridget wouldn’t have any of Tom’s friend’s pleas insisting he had to be on their team. After all, going to the pub had been his idea in the first place. At the last second, his friend James defected to their table, too.
In an impressive failure of imagination, they registered their team name as “Darcy and More”. Even less imaginatively, Tom’s mates named themselves in their honour: “Darcy + James”.
“I don’t know if they deliberately did that to confuse the quizmaster, but it’s working,” Tom commented to the table.
Team Darcy and More were in second place at the end of the first round, a single point behind Darcy + James. Bridget was enjoying herself immensely, but Mark seemed distraught. He wasn’t ordinarily competitive, but the quiz did something to him.
The next round featured pictures, including various flags. Mark didn’t know flags, but Tom quickly identified all but one: a white field featuring red stars, specifically the Plough or Ursa Major.
“I’ve never seen that flag before in my life,” Tom said.
“I have,” Bridget said, “but I can’t recall where.”
Mark held his breath, thinking: we have to get this flag.
“Is it like, New Zealand or somewhere?” asked Fergus.
“That constellation of stars is in the Northern Hemisphere,” Mark said. “It could be a US State.”
“Alaska has stars on its State flag,” suggested Jeremy out of nowhere. “But it has a dark blue background, not white.”
“Good thought,” Mark said nervously, gripping his beer tightly.
“Those stars represent Ursa Major, the bear. Is it the Cherokee Peace Flag?” Bridget asked unexpectedly.
“Yes, maybe,” Mark said doubtfully. “Write it down.” It was either Bridget’s answer or nothing, as everyone else at the table wore blank looks.
The quiz ended with an unpleasant bonus round: one wrong answer netted the team zero points for all ten questions.
“What football team has the nickname the Antlers?” the quizmaster asked.
“Fuck,” said Shaz unsurprisingly.
“Ugh,” said Magda.
“Kashima, Japan” said James.
Mark stared. “You’re sure?”
James gave him a hard stare back. “One hundred per cent.”
When the answers were read out, Mark could tell they had done well. But it wasn’t until the Cherokee Peace Flag was confirmed that his heart started to pound in his chest. By the time the quizmaster said, “Kashima,” he realised they had won.
The prize was £30 and a round of drinks, but they could risk the award for a rollover jackpot: one question, multiple choice. The table deferred to Bridget—it was her birthday.
“We’re going to risk everything,” she said triumphantly.
They immediately regretted their answer the instant the question – how old was Queen Elizabeth when she died? – was read. They were provided three plausible answers – 94, 96, or 98. Mark had no clue beyond the notion that one should always resist the urge to split the difference and choose B.
“B,” he yelled. There was a long, dramatic pause.
“It’s B!” said the quizmaster.
The rollover prize turned out to be £400. Bridget divided it at the table – £50 each.
“What a lovely birthday,” she said.
“Are you kidding? This is the greatest night of my life.” Mark looked at James, and he could tell Tom’s friend was thinking the same thing.
Once at home and in bed, Mark couldn’t resist asking the question that had been on his mind all evening. “Darling, whatever possessed you to send Tom a link for a vibrator?”
“Mark, I didn’t ask for that. You know Tom marches to the beat of his own drum.”
Mark smiled in relief at her answer before suddenly jumping out of bed.
“Where are you going?” Bridget asked.
“To find your present,” he replied with a grin.