by Zoe May
‘Good lunch?’ Sandra asks, as I get back to the office forty-five minutes later.
‘Alright.’ I shrug. I’m not going to mention seeing Chris, it’s not like it matters anyway.
‘So, did you send the message?’ Sandra presses me.
Ted glances over. He looks a little confused but doesn’t push it.
‘I did indeed,’ I reply.
Sandra grins. ‘So exciting!’
I sit back down at my computer and click onto my catheter paper. My phone vibrates, muffled by my bag. Surely, it’s not Daniel already? I undo the zip and reach for my lip balm while subtly glancing at my phone screen. 1 new message from Dream Dates.
Daniel_86:
Hi Sophia,
Saturday night it is. How about 8pm at The Cavendish Club? Do you know it? I look forward to meeting you.
x Daniel
It’s him, it’s actually him! I quickly google The Cavendish Club. ‘Set on a leafy Victorian square in a townhouse that was once the Spanish embassy, this exclusive private-members club features sumptuous décor throughout. This stylish venue boasts three bars, a restaurant catering for up to 80 diners complete with private dining rooms, a members-only nightclub, a library, several suites, and a spacious roof terrace overlooking London.’
I click through the photos, which show a wood-panelled bar with floor-to-ceiling red velvet curtains; a dining room with gold pillars and chandeliers; hotel rooms with four poster beds; waiting staff wearing crisp waistcoats carrying trays of drinks. The sound of a phlegmy throat being cleared suddenly pierces my daydream.
‘That doesn’t look like a medical research paper to me, Sophia,’ Ted barks, over my shoulder.
I swivel round.
‘Sorry, Ted, I just…’ I rack my brains for a reasonable excuse.
‘I was just… researching venues for the ummm… office Christmas party,’ I tell him even though it’s only September and our last Christmas party took place in dingy greasy spoon down the road called Janine’s. All the food was either brown or beige: scotch eggs, sausage rolls, crisps and salted peanuts, washed down with flat Prosecco.
‘Just get back to work,’ Ted huffs, before stomping back to his desk.
‘Will do,’ I mutter.
I click onto Dream Dates.
Sophialj:
8pm at The Cavendish Club would be perfect.
See you there. X
I quickly add my phone number and hit send. Ted shoots me a warning look and I awkwardly smile back before getting on with my work.
Chapter Seven
Come Friday night, I’m at a West End bar. Kate has just got out of the Globe and is still wearing her heavily contoured stage make-up, which always looks odd when paired with black leggings and a baggy jumper. A group of us have gathered to celebrate our friend Cassie’s 29th birthday.
‘So, this is Mike,’ Cassie says, introducing us to her new boyfriend. He looks round the group, blushing a little, before he’s swept up in a frenzy of hand-shaking and hugs. Cassie grins. Kate and I shared a flat with her briefly after university until her habits of burning sage, chanting spells, and leaving handmade wands (aka tree branches) everywhere began to get a bit much. Then when our tenancy ran out, , Kate made up some elaborate excuse about landlords and council tax or something so that we wouldn’t have to endure any more amateur witchcraft. Still, we both felt a bit guilty, especially when Cassie moved into a miserable basement studio in Elephant and Castle, so we’ve always made an effort to keep in touch.
‘Nice to meet you all,’ Mike says, shrinking back towards Cassie. She clutches his hand.
‘So how did you guys meet?’ Laura, another old friend, asks over the music.
Mike and Cassie smile awkwardly and I notice Cassie squeezing Mike’s hand a little tighter.
‘Online,’ Cassie admits. ‘OkCupid. I saw this little thumbnail of Mike. He looked so adorable! I sent him a message and then that was it, we started messaging 24/7. We were on the phone every day for hours. Even before I met him, I just knew,’ she insists, giddily.
‘Awww…,’ Kate and everyone else gushes.
Mike smiles sheepishly.
‘So how long have you been together?’ Kate asks.
‘About three months now,’ Mike tells her, taking a sip of his pint.
‘Yep, we had our three-month anniversary on Tuesday,’ Cassie adds. ‘Mike even got me a ring for it.’ She holds out her right hand, brandishing a silver Celtic ring featuring two little hands cupping a heart.
Kate inspects it. ‘Pretty,’ she squeaks in the slightly high-pitched voice she always uses when she’s lying.
‘It’ll be an engagement ring next!’ John, one of our other university friends, adds.
Cassie and Mike laugh, brushing off the suggestion, but not without exchanging a quick, meaningful look as if they might have already discussed it. They seem so close. They even look similar with their dark choppy hair, thick-framed nerdy glasses and big green eyes. I smile awkwardly. All of my university friends are now either married or on track towards getting married. John got hitched to Rose, his girlfriend of four years, recently. Laura married Simon last year. Rich got engaged to Jack a few months ago. Lucy’s still going strong with her childhood sweetheart, Ahmed, and of course, Kate’s got Max. Thankfully, he’s still on stage tonight, because then I’d well and truly be the thirteenth wheel.
‘What about you, Sophia?’ Rich pipes up and in one horrible swoop, everyone looks round.
‘Yeah, how’s the love life?’ Jack adds.
‘It’s alright,’ I grumble. I’m half-tempted to tell them all about Daniel, but I haven’t confessed to Kate that I didn’t delete my Dream Dates profile, let alone admit that I arranged a date.
‘There just don’t seem to be any decent guys out there,’ I sigh.
‘That’s not true,’ Rich shakes his head defiantly. ‘There are plenty.’
Jack shoots him a look, but Rich carries on, oblivious.
‘Your problem is you’re too fussy.’
‘I’m not, there just aren’t—’ I start to protest but Rich cuts me off.
‘Remember when I set you up with James from work? Then when you and me met up the next day, you said you wouldn’t go on a second date with him because he didn’t pronounce his T’s properly?’
‘I think you mean, “when you and I met up the next day,”’ I say.
Rich slowly shakes his head.
‘Anyway, there’s nothing wrong with fancying well-spoken people!’
‘Or the time you turned down that guy after he told you his entire outfit cost £10,’ Cassie adds, grinning naughtily.
‘He was a cheapskate! Anyway, disposable clothes, disposable man.’ I take a swig of my G&T.
‘Oh yeah,’ John pipes up. ‘And then there was that Jim Morrison guy you thought was the dog’s bollocks, then when you went on a date, you ran a mile.’
‘I sobered up. Beer googles. I didn’t expect him to actually look like dog’s bollocks!’
Lucy joins in. ‘What about when you broke up with that really hot guy, Corey, after two weeks because you didn’t like his feet,’ she reminds me.
‘They were Hobbit feet,’ I insist. ‘Anyway, guys, can you stop giving me a hard time!’
‘Oh!’ Kate slaps the bar, recalling something. ‘Remember last week you refused to message that really nice guy on Match.com because he wrote that he was looking for his “partner in crime” and you said you couldn’t stand that.’ She grins wickedly.
‘I can’t! I’d honestly rather die alone than match with yet another guy looking for their “partner in crime.”’
They all tut and shake their heads, but they just don’t get it. They’re coupled up – oblivious to the daily struggles of the dating scene. Thankfully, I Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor by Arctic Monkeys comes on, a classic song from our university days, and everyone forgets about my shambles of a love life and runs off to dance. Arctic Monkeys blends into Hey Ya by Outkast and every
one’s dancing and happy. Rich twerks against Jack, who keeps pretending to spank him. Cassie’s twirling around in her dreamy ethereal way as if she’s not at a busy London bar at all but seeing in the morning sun at a summer solstice party, while Mike cuts shapes around her like a malfunctioning robot. Lucy’s smiling to herself as Ahmed plants a kiss on her neck. John’s dancing close to Rose and Laura’s got her arms around Simon’s neck. Thank God for Kate, who’s singing along and grooving with me like the old days.
The DJ puts on a slower song, one that Kate and I don’t know the words to, and as we dance, my mind begins to wander to the hard time my friends always give me about my pickiness with guys. I get that they think I’m picky, but I feel like when I meet the right guy for me, I’ll just know and so far, I’ve never really had that feeling. In fact, I’ve not even come close. With my uni boyfriend Sam, I gradually got to know him through friends and realised he was cool, and then with Paulo, it was more a matter of having instant chemistry, rather than love. My dad says the moment he first saw my mum, he instantly knew she was the woman he was going to marry and I keep waiting to have that type of revelation too. But none of the guys I’ve dated have inspired anything like that kind of passion in me; most of the time I don’t even want a second date, let alone marriage.
‘I’d better head home,’ Kate says, shouting over the music, after the seventh or eighth song. ‘Need my beauty sleep.’
She gets her phone out of her handbag and orders a taxi. Kate always has to be home reasonably early on Friday nights to make sure she gets a good night’s sleep before her matinee performances.
‘Cool, I’ll come with you,’ I shout back. We say our goodbyes to everyone and then head outside, where we get into the car.
‘What do you think of Mike?’ I ask Kate as I fasten my seatbelt.
‘He looks like a 30-year-old Harry Potter, but he seems nice. I reckon he’s good for Cassie,’ she remarks.
‘Yeah…’ I murmur as we drive away from the bar. ‘I know it sounds sad, but I never thought I’d be the last singleton standing.’
‘You thought you’d find someone before Cassie, you mean?’ Kate asks.
‘Well, yeah! I’m not into Wicca or chanting, I’m normal and yet…’ I trail off.
‘And yet you’re holding out for a Robert Pattinson-lookalike multimillionaire who doesn’t exist!’ Kate quips.
Our taxi driver shoots a curious glance at the rear-view mirror.
‘You never know,’ I say knowingly, but Kate just scoffs.
‘Seriously, Sophia!’
I gaze out the window. I want to tell her about Daniel, but I know she’ll burst my bubble. Yes, I’m aware that Daniel could turn out to be a catfish, or if he’s the real deal, then he’s more than likely to be an arrogant nightmare, but I can’t help hoping that perhaps he’s not only going to be gorgeous and successful, but charming and kind too. Our date tomorrow feels like a special little secret I’m keeping close to my breast. A nugget of faith that maybe I have managed to find a dream man.
‘You know, the moment you get real and stop expecting to be whisked off your feet by some ridiculous man-god, I bet you’ll find a boyfriend and you’ll be happier than you ever imagined,’ Kate says.
‘Hmmm…’ Maybe she’s right, but I at least want to meet Daniel first, just to see.
‘There are plenty of things I don’t like about Max,’ she insists. ‘The way he makes these snotty snuffling noises in his sleep, the fact that he reads tabloid newspapers, his habit of eating peanut butter by the spoonful, his love of U2!’ She shakes her head morosely. ‘Not to mention his obsession with comic books and the way he calls his friends by their surnames and—’
‘Do you actually like Max at all?’ I interrupt.
‘I adore him,’ Kate insists dreamily. She takes a deep breath.
‘Let not to the marriage of true minds, admit impediments,’ she intones, switching into her loud crisp stage voice. I shrink into the seat; I should have known talking about love after a few drinks would lead to a full-on Shakespeare rendition.
‘Love is not love, which alters when in alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove. O no! it is an ever-fixed mark, that looks on tempests and is never shaken.’ Kate shakes her fist defiantly as the car weaves through the traffic.
Our driver eyes her curiously as she recites the sonnet, clearly not used to having RADA-trained actors belting out Shakespeare in his car. She grows more and more impassioned by the time she reaches the final lines.
‘Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, but bears it out even to the edge of doom,’ Kate says, with an impassioned, sweeping gesture.
‘If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.’ She clutches her heart.
The driver draws to a halt at the traffic lights and breaks into applause.
‘Hear, hear!’ he cheers.
I clap weakly.
‘Encore!’ he adds.
‘No! Please, no!’ I groan.
Kate grins and does a little bow in the backseat.
Chapter Eight
‘Sorry, I’m late, Soph,’ Tom says, slightly out of breath as he comes crashing towards my table in The Muffin House.
He gives me a quick hug.
‘Hamish puked on the carpet just before I left. Gave him too many treats. Then I got stuck in traffic and then I couldn’t find change for the parking. Had to swap a load of coppers for a 20p coin from a stranger. Nightmare!’ he sighs as he pulls out the chair opposite me.
‘Oh, poor you… Well, if it’s any consolation, I got you a banana and toffee muffin,’ I tell him, pushing the plate towards him.
‘Thanks, hun, that is a consolation actually,’ Tom replies, picking up the muffin and biting off the sticky glob of toffee on the top.
I can’t help noticing that his trusty fleece is smeared with what looks like it might be a trace of dog sick. I decide not to say anything.
‘So good!’ Tom mutters through a mouthful of muffin, his eyes rolling back in his head.
‘You look like you needed that!’
‘Definitely!’ Tom takes another huge bite.
I get up to fetch us drinks and by the time I’ve got back, Tom seems to have perked up a bit.
‘Thanks, babe,’ he takes a cup of tea off the tray before I’ve lowered it onto the table.
‘So, give me the low down. Love life, men, dating – I wanna hear it all!’ he insists.
Tom’s another person, like Sandra, who lives vicariously through my exploits. Even though he’s totally hooked on all the twists and turns of my disastrous dating life, he never shares a nugget of information about his own love life. Every time I pry, he gets all funny and starts saying how he’s too busy for romance, going on about all the marking he’s got to do or how he has to plan a new syllabus or come up with a PowerPoint presentation on Of Mice or Men or whatever. I usually get so bored that we just drop the subject, although I would like to know what the deal is. Is he just fine on his own or is there a reason he won’t tell me anything?
‘So… What’s the goss?’ Tom asks as he tears open a sachet of sweetener and pours it into his tea.
‘Well, there is a bit of goss actually!’ I admit, taking a sip of my coffee.
I can’t bring myself to tell Kate about my date with Daniel, but Tom’s isn’t a cynic like her. He’ll probably get just as excited about it as I am.
He scrunches up his sweetener wrapper. ‘Pray tell!’
‘Okay, so the other day, Kate and I created this profile,’ I tell him, taking a sip of coffee before launching into the whole story.
‘Must have an eight-inch cock! Ahahaha!’ Tom cackles, causing an elderly couple enjoying a civilised cup of tea to glance over in shock.
‘Shut up, Tom,’ I hiss, but when he catches sight of the couple’s horrified faces, he just starts snickering even more.
Eventually, when he’s finally calmed down, I manage to get the whole story out and tell him abo
ut the date planned for this evening.
‘So, you’re actually meeting him tonight?’ Tom asks.
‘Yep!’ I glance at my watch. ‘In just under three hours actually!’
‘Three hours!’ Tom yelps. ‘That’s nothing! Are you going to get changed? You’ve got to do your hair, make-up, not to mention getting there. Cutting it fine, aren’t you, Sophia?!’
‘Oh, I didn’t realise I was that hideous,’ I joke, plucking at my hair. ‘Three hours is enough, isn’t it?’
Tom pulls a face. ‘Well, If I were meeting my dream m… date, I’d probably spend the whole day getting ready.’
‘Oh, shit,’ I groan, meeting Tom’s pointed stare. ‘Maybe I’d better go then.’
I take a hurried sip of coffee and I’m about to get up from the table, when suddenly it dawns on me that Tom didn’t come all the way from Crystal Palace just for an update on my love life.
‘So, err, what did you actually want to meet about?’ I ask.
‘I’ll have to give it to you in a nutshell now!’ Tom says. ‘Basically, it’s Mum’s 75th birthday next month and I thought we could throw her a surprise party!’
Tom grins, his enthusiasm infectious.
‘Yes! Let’s do it!’
‘I’m thinking a big surprise party. Lots of her friends – Charlie, Marg, Ron – the whole gang. And then family, extended family, you know!’
I nod, even though I don’t really know the people he’s talking about. Although Lyn often mentions her mates, most of whom are lifelong friends she grew up with, I’ve never actually met any of them.
‘But I’m thinking it needs a theme,’ Tom muses. ‘I thought, since Mum loves Come Dine With Me, maybe we could do some kind of Come Dine With Me party?’
I scrunch up my nose. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘Why not?’ Tom looks a little deflated.
‘Well, I for one, can’t cook, and you’re not exactly a pro in the kitchen, either,’ I remind him, thinking back to the many occasions Lyn’s moaned about how he only eats beans on toast and needs a woman to take care of him.