‘That could happen any day of the week regardless of dating apps,’ says Sophie, reassuringly. She even squeezes my arm to underline what she’s saying, her face creased into a little frown of kindness.
‘Right, well, that’s comforting,’ I say.
‘They’re more likely to be married players, looking for a bit on the side,’ says Gen.
‘Nice,’ I say in despair.
‘Well, they’re not all. I mean there are some decent men left out there. There must be,’ Gen adds.
I look down at my screen, feeling faintly sick at the thought of my photo being out there, and my face being swiped left (or was it right? God, I better find that out) on a whim.
‘One of the girls at work was telling me that she got a match the other day,’ I tell them. ‘He was a really nice-looking guy, really good job working as an investment banker, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. Two messages in, the formalities over with, and he asked her what she was doing. “Just having a coffee and thinking about heading to the shops for a bit of a wander,” she said. “What about you?”’ I grimaced, thinking about poor Jav’s face when she’d been telling us over lunch.
‘And he replied: “Just cracking one off over your photograph”.’
‘Ugh.’ Sophie’s nose wrinkles in disgust. ‘And that was supposed to be a come-on?’
‘A come-over,’ Gen said, also looking a bit queasy. ‘This is why I intend to remain single forever. I’m not putting myself through all that crap.’
‘Uh, thanks, Gen,’ I say.
‘Sorry.’
‘I’m not sure I’m ready for this.’ I pick up the phone. There’s a photograph of a nice-looking man with dark brown hair and green eyes looking back at me. ‘Oh.’
Gen snatches the phone back. ‘Exactly.’ She swipes at the screen.
‘Oh my God, did you swipe him away?’
‘Nope.’ Gen puts the phone back down on the table, looking triumphant. ‘I just took your Tinder virginity.’
‘Ewww,’ I say, feeling slightly sick. The phone buzzes and I pick it up.
‘Oh my God, he’s replied.’ Gen gives a squeak of glee and high-fives Sophie. ‘Get in.’
I look up and catch a glimpse of my face in the mirror. It looks more horrified than excited, but they don’t seem to have noticed that.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Jess
13th April
And so, that’s how I end up standing – one week, and a lot of surprisingly saucy Tinder chat (which I have to confess I liked more than I expected, so maybe I’m not as much of a prude as I thought) later – by the bridge leading to a riverboat on the Thames, dressed in one of Sophie’s mega-expensive dresses, sheltering under Rob’s golf umbrella in the pouring rain. Theo, my date, has told me to meet him here instead of the bar we were meant to be at, because he’s running late. I guess that’s what happens when you work in the city and you’re a high-flying investment banker type. I peer through the sheets of rain, trying to see if I can spot him through the crowds. There’s a mixture of people dressed up and heading into the party boat, drenched tourists with raincoats, and pissed-off-looking commuters making their way back home.
He’d left it late to tell me about the change of plans. I’d stood in the bar looking around for him for a while, scanning the place in case he was one of those people who didn’t look anything like his picture. But then a waiter had come up and asked if I wanted a table, so I’d said yes (because I’m a strong independent woman and I don’t mind sitting alone at a table in a crowded bar drinking a glass of red wine that costs £15). But then the glass of wine – which I’d been eking out for as long as I could – ran out, and he still hadn’t turned up. And just as I was paying the bill and thinking that literally everyone in the entire place knew that I’d been stood up (because who goes to a bar dressed in a peacock-blue body-con dress with expensive hair and ridiculous really-hard-to-walk-in shoes for a casual solo drink?) my phone buzzed. And it was Theo, full of apologies, asking me to jump in an Uber and telling me he’d sort it out when I got there.
As first dates go, this is pretty bloody spectacular. I’m his plus-one at a masquerade ball, and despite the rain and the wind and the feeling that