Читать книгу Laid in Chelsea: My Life Uncovered - Ollie Locke - Страница 7

It’s early October 2011. I’m sitting in my room surrounded by boxes of cigarettes and empty bottles of wine. It looks like a slum. My three flatmates are all out, and I have never felt so low in my entire life. I’m booked to do an appearance at a nightclub in Bristol tonight but I text saying I have been asked to film for Made in Chelsea so I can’t make it. I have quite honestly cried for 72 hours. Looking in the mirror I think I look like I have lost everything. In some ways I feel that I have. My mum is calling every half an hour and I have hardly eaten in four days. My phone rings from an unknown number and I ignore it.

Two minutes later it rings again … and again. On the fourth time I pick up silently and listen.

‘Your taxi is outside.’

I know I’m due on the T4 sofa in 45 minutes to give an interview about the next series of Made in Chelsea. I have no choice – I have to go.

I put on any clothes I find that seem clean and I get into a large Mercedes with tinted windows. I sit in the back of the car, expressionless, while we make our way across London to a shopping centre in Bayswater.

When I walk into the TV studios I’m shown to a dressing room, where I cry into a bowl of Haribos. But I don’t have time to dwell on my misery, as I’m quickly taken into another room, where I am covered in make-up to hide what I actually look like.

I then find myself standing on the edge of the set, waiting for my interview. I force myself to smile, knowing that I have to be on Ollie form for the next 20 minutes. I have to laugh and chat about how excited I am that filming for the next series is about to start. I have to be the Ollie from Made in Chelsea that everyone knows. But at that precise moment, I couldn’t have felt any further from that. Inside I was dying and so far away from being Laid in Chelsea.

I had just gone through one of the hardest break-ups of my life. Whether she thought that way about it I don’t know, but I felt as if I had lost everything.

Looking back at that moment now, I realise that no matter how bad it seems, no matter how bad the break-up, you can always bounce back. I’m now in a happy place – yes, I’m single and fairly sexless, but I believe in love, and I’d like to believe that the person I’m going to spend the rest of my life with is out there somewhere. It’s only time that is holding back that moment when we will meet – probably when we’re both least expecting it.

Of course, I’ve asked myself if there’s such a thing as ‘happily ever after’. We’re supposed to believe it when we watch the great romantic Disney films, but who’s to say what happens after the camera stops rolling? Maybe after Beauty and the Beast Belle realised she was terribly shallow and ran off in search of a better-looking man? Perhaps once Ariel from The Little Mermaid was on dry land she decided that it wasn’t love she wanted, but a Ferrari and a credit card?

We all want to believe in love, but can we trust that we will end up with the right person, have three children and a Range Rover? Have we forgotten what love is all about? A house in the country and a wardrobe full of Sloane Street clothes is wonderful, but neither of these things will send you flowers for no reason, hug you when you’ve had a truly shit day, or handle morning-breath sex.

I want to bring back some of that belief in love, simply because I love the idea of being in love. In this book you will hear all about my life and my great loves – those that have helped make me into the person I am today, and those whose memory should definitely be taken and buried in the graveyard of failed romances and never spoken of again. But for now I’m happily digging them up to show that no matter how bad things get in the romance stakes, you should never give up hope that things will get better again. And, of course, I’ll reveal all about those relationships that you may already be familiar with from a little show called Made in Chelsea.

During the 10 years I’ve been dating, I’ve had some amazing experiences and I have gathered a lot of stories along the way. Some are good; others are bad. Some loves have lasted hours, days, weeks or months, and some have stood firm for several years. I feel like the girls (and guys) I’ve dated have given me the equivalent of a doctorate in relationships, and I want to share what I’ve learned with you. So, light the candles, pour the champagne and prepare to get Laid in Chelsea …