When Polly Met Olly

by Zoe May

  The rest of the images appear to give a complete 360-degree view of Eve’s life. There’s a shot of her rocking corporate chic in a pencil skirt and a blouse, with a boxy handbag dangling from her arm, standing outside an office block on Wall Street. Her hair’s slicked back in a tight bun at the back of her head and she’s wearing glasses again. Even in a severe corporate suit, she looks stunning. The shot reminds me of the one Brandon uses on his profile – the magazine shoot image of him taken in front of his firm, looking every inch the high-flying lawyer. Eve’s just like the female Brandon. This is too good to be true. I check out her profile information. She’s 32. Studied economics at Columbia and works as a financial consultant at leading bank, J. C. Fisher. No way. Her bio reads, ‘Eligible man required in role as boyfriend for leading singleton. Please swipe right to apply. Unfortunately, we regret that we cannot offer personal feedback to unsuccessful applicants.’ I smile. Witty too. Surely, she has to be a catfish or something.

  I swipe right anyway. It feels strange to make a right-swiping gesture when my thumb is so used to swiping the other way. I feel a prickle of nervousness, but then ‘It’s a Match’ pops up.

  ‘Yes!’ I yelp without thinking, letting out a little squeal. A stern-looking woman reading the Wall Street Journal on the table opposite glances over, unimpressed, and I clear my throat, burying my head back to my phone.

  It’s a match! I’ve matched with Eve and she seems absolutely incredible. But before I get too excited, I decide to conduct a little Google search to see if she’s legit. I type her name, university and workplace into the search bar, fully expecting nothing to come up. She definitely seems too good to be true. Google delivers a stream of results, the first of which is a professional profile for a blonde called ‘Eve Samuels’ who went to Columbia and works at J. C. Fisher, just like her profile claims. The profile shot is a black and white company headshot in which Eve’s wearing a white shirt and black blazer, glasses and no make-up. She looks less glamourous than she does in her Tinder pictures, but she’s still naturally beautiful, with bright engaging eyes and long thick hair. I click on her profile and scan her employment history. She secured an internship at an investment bank straight out of university, was awarded an entry level job there after six weeks and then progressively climbed the ranks, before taking on the role of Senior Manager a year ago. Impressive. I feel my own ego shrinking slightly as I take it in. Eve’s such a success story. Her steady rise to the top of the corporate ladder is intimidating. It’s an existence I can’t even begin to contemplate. I could never do what she’s done; that corporate determination just isn’t in me.

  I take a sip of coffee and shrug off the thought. This isn’t about me. This is about Brandon and I may well have just stumbled on the jackpot. Now I just need to think up a decent opening message. A few come to mind.

  Hey Eve, beautiful, smart, successful – what’s the catch?

  Not overly original. I could compliment her pictures, but she probably gets that all the time. Or I could ask her where she’s sailing in the yacht shot. None are particularly inspiring ideas of opening gambits but the quality of the opening message probably doesn’t matter quite so much when I have Brandon’s looks on my side. I’m about to hit send when suddenly, a message pops up from Eve. She beat me to it!

  Eve: I just saw the best upsexy ever.

  Huh? I frown at the message. What’s she on about? Maybe she is a bot after all. I type a reply.

  Brandon: What’s upsexy?

  Eve: Oh, Brandon! *Winking emoji* I’m doing okay, how are you?

  I snort with laughter, causing the paper-reading woman to shoot me another reproving glance, but this time I just don’t care. I’ve matched with Eve! She’s perfect and she’s funny.

  Brandon: You got me! Great line btw, although to be perfectly honest, you had me at ‘It’s a Match’.

  I hit send. It’s a bit of a cheesy message, but it’ll do.

  Eve: Really? Surely a guy like you has all the matches.

  Wow, she’s gorgeous, funny and she’s flirting. I debate how to respond. Of course, someone as hot as Brandon would have a ton of matches, if he wasn’t so damn fussy. But I can’t go telling Eve that, actually, she’s the first girl that meets his ridiculously exacting criteria. I type another message.

  Brandon: None as pretty as you.

  Eve: *blushing*

  Brandon: But really, you’re beautiful, well-educated, successful and funny. What’s the catch?! I thought at first you must be a bot or a catfish.

  I wait a few moments, taking a few sips of coffee and gazing across the café at the people working on laptops, having a catch up, or simply texting. A few minutes pass, and Eve hasn’t replied. I start worrying that maybe I’ve come across as too keen and put her off. Or maybe she was offended that I suggested she might be a bot. Oh no, just when I thought I’d struck gold, I’ve probably screwed it up. I sigh and then my phone buzzes and it’s her!

  Eve: A bot! Hahaha. You know how to flatter a girl. But if I’m totally honest, I thought the same about you – you’re gorgeous, smart, successful and funny yourself. So, I’m going to fire that question right back at you. What’s the catch?!

  I smile to myself. This could actually be for real. Eve is clearly not a bot. I ponder over her question, thinking back to Brandon. Does he have a catch? There’s definitely no catch when it comes to the looks department. I know that for sure. And there’s no catch professionally. I’ve already checked Brandon out online and found dozens of articles in which interviewers try to deduce the secret to his staggering success. If anything, Brandon’s Tinder profile undersells him when it comes to his professional life. And he’s certainly well-educated. And funny. And cool and charismatic. Before I know it, I’m daydreaming about us sitting on the sofa in Derek’s chintzy client lounge, with one thing leading to another. Maybe Gabe’s right. Maybe I do need to get laid. I glance over at the barista. Perhaps I should order a coffee just to hear someone cry out my name, like Gabe jokes.

  No. I must focus on the task at hand. I reread Eve’s message. What’s the catch? The only catch I can think of is Brandon’s annoying fussiness, but I can’t say that can I? I need to write something quickly, I’m taking way too long to reply.

  Brandon: Hmmm. I’m stumped! Maybe we’re both just perfect, or else we’re both just very advanced bots?

  Eve: Maybe. I’ll show you my source code if you show me yours

  I snigger, while typing a response.

  Brandon: Stop it. You’re making my floppy disc hard.

  Eve: That’s okay. Although maybe you could upgrade to a hard drive. A very hard drive.

  I giggle. I love Eve. I’m almost beginning to fancy her myself.

  Brandon: hkjdf9723[;Pakdsjfhp89-0jhksadgfy

  Brandon: Sorry, is it hot in here or did my system just crash?

  Eve: lol! I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty sure my CPU’s malfunctioning because I’m feeling a spark.

  My phone buzzes, but this time it isn’t Eve. It’s Derek, asking when I’ll be getting back to the office. He’s clearly beginning to suspect me of bunking off. I’d better head back. I take a final sip of my coffee, even though I really don’t want to leave. I’m enjoying my banter with Eve, but I have to admit, I’m a bit surprised she has time for back and forth chit chat like this. It’s 3 p.m. – peak office hours – and yet she’s chatting to guys on Tinder. It’s a bit strange, but maybe she’s just one of those people who’s got so high in their career that they no longer need to do much work. Unlike me. I’m going to have to pick this chat up again later.

  Brandon: I’m going to have to log off before my system crashes completely. Catch up later?

  Eve: Haha. Smooth. Speak later. X

  Brandon: Perfect. X

  I drop my phone in my bag and head out of the café, feeling pleased with myself.

  Chapter 12

  I know Gabe’s right and I should probably leave work at work, but I can’t seem to stop messaging Eve.
She’s so funny and cute and cool. Brandon’s going to absolutely love her.

  We’ve moved off the topic of bots to general chit chat about our days, which I’m having to wing a bit seeing as I have absolutely no idea what Brandon’s been up to. I’ve been referring vaguely to a ‘work project’ to make it sound like Brandon’s keeping busy but it’s a bit difficult pretending to be a high-flying lawyer when I don’t know a thing about Brandon’s work. Eve even asked whether the project has been impacted by some stock market fluctuations. I didn’t have a clue what she was on about, so I told her everything was going well, but mentioned that we were having an internal office issue to make the story a bit more convincing. Really, I was just injecting my own frustrations over Alicia and not being invited to the book launch into the narrative.

  Brandon: A colleague has been overseeing a project and was meant to involve me, but they’ve been ostracising key members of the team.

  I type, thinking of Alicia, while hoping I sound convincingly corporate. Eve quickly fires a message back.

  Eve: Urghh. I hate that. Responsibility needs to be shared equally between all stakeholders in project work. If people don’t feel valued, they can’t add value.

  I raise an eyebrow. What’s she on about?

  Brandon: I suppose. It’s just this individual has demanded a lot from me and now doesn’t seem to be acknowledging my help.

  I send the message, feeling a strange sense of relief to be offloading, even if I am doing it through the alias of Brandon, and pretending I’m a lawyer in a difficult office situation rather than a struggling photographer sitting on her couch.

  Eve: If the person is really out of line, maybe you should escalate the issue to their line manager? Perhaps they need to be reminded of the company’s ethos or policies.

  Oh God. I wish! Eve and I are from different worlds. Alicia doesn’t have a line manager, I can’t escalate things. That’s not remotely how it works. Our whole arrangement was meant to be based on good faith, there’s no company ethos or policies in place. I really need to wrap this conversation up before it gets any weirder.

  Brandon: Yeah, maybe. Thanks for the advice. It’s been annoying, but I’ll try to just let it go.

  Eve: No, don’t let it go! That’ll only make it worse. If you let someone walk all over you once, they’ll only crush you harder the next time. That’s what I’ve realised. J. C. Fisher is ruthless. If I don’t come across as strong, people will destroy me.

  I read Eve’s message, my interest piqued.

  Eve: It’s down to you to set the standard for how you expect to be treated. Once you set a high benchmark, people will rise to it. It’s been the biggest learning of my professional life, and personal life too.

  Interesting. Eve seems to have dropped the corporate jargon. She’s speaking English again and not just regular English, meaningful English.

  Brandon: You’re right. I think I need to raise the standard. It just got me down a bit.

  Eve: It sounds like it, but don’t let it get you down. ‘No one makes you feel inferior without your consent’. That’s one of my favourite quotes. It’s by Eleanor Roosevelt. If you let this person make you feel bad, you’re giving them power over you. Try to shrug it off and move forward instead. Assert your worth and let go. That’s a way better power move than feeling down about it or angry. I used to get like that all the time, then I heard that quote and it struck a chord with me.

  Wow. Suddenly I’m not Brandon at all; I’m me, Polly Wood, and I’m feeling really quite moved. Eve’s right. I haven’t been setting the standard for how I should be treated high enough. I’ve been showing everyone the utmost respect, bending over backwards to fulfil their demands and pandering to their whims in the hope they’ll be appreciative and kind back, but it hasn’t been working like that. My clients have just been taking advantage of me instead. In my desperation to grow my photography portfolio, I’ve got into the habit of accepting crummy jobs for little or no pay, I’ve worked all hours and I’ve not stood up for myself. In a weird way, I’ve allowed myself to be taken advantage of. I I’m letting people make me feel bad about myself and inferior, when I shouldn’t be giving them that power at all.

  My phone pings.

  Eve: Trust me, I learnt all this the hard way!

  I take in the message, finding it hard to imagine someone as beautiful and smart and confident as Eve being pushed around but I believe her. I can tell she’s speaking from the heart and if she managed to assert herself and change, then I can too.

  Eve: Eek you’ve gone quiet…

  Oh no! She’s right. I have gone totally quiet. I’ve been lost in thought. I need to stop allowing myself to be Polly, getting lost in my own personal thoughts and feelings, and instead get back into the mindset of Brandon. Cool, confident, charismatic Brandon.

  Brandon: I was just thinking about what you said. You seem so accomplished. Hard to imagine you being pushed around…

  I scroll through Eve’s photos while I wait for a reply, focusing on the image of her dressed in a severe skirt suit with her hair scraped back, looking every inch the accomplished businesswoman.

  Eve: Aww, thanks Brandon. I’m doing okay now, but it took trial and error to get there, believe me.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Gabe comes into the kitchen and looks over my shoulder. I quickly click out of the messages to Eve.

  ‘Nothing.’

  Gabe raises an eyebrow. He reaches for a bag of bagels and the chopping board. ‘You looked all pensive and weird. Who are you messaging? Is it that Brandon dude?’

  ‘Pah!’ I let out a snort. As if I’d be messaging Brandon. ‘Not quite. I’m messaging a woman pretending to be Brandon though.’

  ‘Oh God,’ Gabe groans as he takes a knife and starts slicing through a bagel. ‘You’re messaging a poor unsuspecting woman pretending to be Brandon…’ He shakes his head.

  ‘Oh, come on, you make it sound like I’m doing something terrible,’ I huff.

  Gabe slips the slices into the toaster and turns around to face me, leaning against the worktop.

  ‘You know I don’t approve,’ he reminds me. ‘I hope you’re not sexting her, because that would be really wrong!’

  ‘No! I’m not sexting!’ I insist, making a mental note to try to keep the conversation platonic. Gabe’s right, sexting would feel kind of wrong. I probably already went too far earlier with the comments about my hard drive.

  ‘Good! Why do you look so dreamy then?’

  I shrug. ‘I don’t know. She just got me thinking, I guess. She’s an interesting person,’ I tell him.

  ‘Let’s see?’

  ‘Fine.’

  Gabe plonks himself down in the seat next to me and peers over at my phone as I click back into Eve’s Tinder profile and scroll through the photos.

  ‘Wow, she’s gorgeous!’ he says. ‘Are you sure she’s for real? Her profile looks a bit fake.’

  The toaster pings and Gabe gets up.

  ‘Yeah, I wasn’t sure at first, but I found her on Google. I found a work profile about her. She seems real.’

  ‘Ha!’ Gabe scoffs as he plucks the bagel slices from the toaster and places them on a plate. ‘Why do people always think work profiles are legit? You can create fake information about your career just as easily as you can fake a Tinder profile.’ Gabe gets some spread out of the fridge. ‘People always think professional profiles are somehow factual or something, but they’re totally not. Trust me, we get applicants all the time who have these amazing online CVs and websites – they look so impressive, but then you find out they’ve been lying about everything.’

  ‘I suppose,’ I grumble, feeling suddenly deflated. Gabe’s right. I did assume that Eve was legit simply because her work profile looked good, but what if she’s a balding middle-aged man sitting in his parent’s basement who just faked it?

  ‘Hmm…’ Gabe murmurs as he assembles his bagel. ‘She could very well be real, I’m just giving you a heads up. I don’t want to see you get
too excited only to get totally let down.’

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ I sigh. Deep down I know Gabe isn’t deliberately trying to be a spoilsport. ‘I was just so excited about completing level one.’

  ‘You thought she was the one, right?’

  I nod.

  ‘Babe, she might still be. I’m just trying to be Cupid’s rational sidekick.’

  I laugh, when my phone buzzes.

  Eve: Are you busy? Hope I didn’t get too preachy.

  ‘Is it her?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I reply, as I start typing a message.

  Brandon: Don’t be silly. Beauty, brains and wisdom, what more could I want?! ;)

  ‘What are you saying?’ Gabe asks, before plonking down on the sofa and taking a bite of his bagel.

  ‘Oh, nothing.’

  ‘Tell me!’ he insists through a mouthful of food.

  ‘No!’

  Gabe swallows.‘You’re flirting, aren’t you?’ he teases.

  ‘Maybe. Yes. It is kind of my job,’ I remind him.

  ‘Oh man,’ Gabe laughs.

  Eve: Hmmm, I don’t know. How about a date?

  Oh my God! Eve wants a date. I get up and head to my bedroom.