pregnant, it’s not surprising it’s not happened yet,’ says Gen, drily. She looks up at the magazine. ‘Ooh, very nice.’
It’s a gorgeous, dark cream dress and it will suit Sophie’s slender figure perfectly. ‘I love it,’ I agree.
‘Anyway,’ Gen says, tapping on the table with her finger, as if calling us back to order, ‘let’s get back to the task in hand. Which is get Jess a shag, in case anyone’s forgotten.’
‘Excuse me,’ I yelp. ‘I want a date. I’m not after a one-night stand.’
Sophie leans over and looks at my phone screen, where we’ve finally uploaded a decent photo to my Tinder profile, and we’re trying to work out what to put on my bio. We used Gen’s one before to look through profiles, but now I’ve – well, they’ve – decided that I need to get out there.
‘You should get a dog. I was running in the park the other morning and I saw loads of good-looking men with dogs,’ says Sophie.
‘Should you be running in your condition?’ Gen looks at her thoughtfully, tapping a pen against her teeth.
‘What condition?’ I spin round to look at Sophie. ‘Have I missed a memo?’
She shakes her head. ‘Still in the waiting period. Or hopefully not period.’
‘Yeah, but you might jog it out of place or something,’ says Gen, waving an arm, vaguely.
‘I can’t put my life on hold because I’m trying to get pregnant,’ says Sophie. ‘Anyway I’ve got a good feeling about this month. I did a headstand after sex on day fourteen.’
I glance at Gen, who looks faintly disgusted.
‘TMI,’ we both say, in unison.
‘Soz,’ says Sophie, shrugging.
There’s a For Sale sign hanging from the railings in front of us. When Soph decides she wants something, she doesn’t hang about. She’s decided she wants a wedding ring, two-point-four children, a dog, and a house in the suburbs. And by sheer force of nature (and a few headstands) she’ll get it. She always does.
Rich pops out to the balcony to kiss Sophie goodbye.
‘Just nipping up to the gym,’ he says, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. ‘See you two later.’
I flick a glance in Gen’s direction, wondering if she’s thinking what I’m thinking. I know way more about Rich’s sex life than I feel is necessary. Meanwhile, my sex life is completely dead in the water, and I’m pretty sure that Alex and Emma hooked up again the other night. Not that I’ve a problem with that, of course, because we’re friends and that’s perfectly nice. But I did kind of hope maybe it had fizzled out.
The most logical conclusion is to do as the saying goes, and get over him by getting under someone else. Or on top of. I’m not fussy, really. So, I’ve done it. Committed to signing up for online dating, starting with Tinder, because it’s free, and the idea of paying for online dating seems a bit – well, it doesn’t really matter what it seems, the truth is I’m skint.
‘Why don’t you just put something nice in your bio: “likes long walks and lazy Sundays drinking coffee and reading the papers”?’ Sophie suggests, as if it’s that easy to bag a man.
‘Yeah, that’ll definitely do it,’ Gen says, giving me a bug-eyed stare.
‘What’s wrong with that?’ Sophie sounds slightly offended.
‘It’s just a bit – sad.’
‘But it’s true. She does like walks and Sundays and coffee and all that stuff. Don’t you, Jess?’ She looks to me for confirmation. I feel torn.
‘I do,’ I say, hesitantly. ‘It’s just a bit …’
‘Clichéd,’ says Gen, firmly.
‘Oh.’ Sophie sags a little bit in her chair.
‘Oh God,’ Gen looks slightly shame-faced. ‘Hang on, you met Rich at uni. I was feeling guilty in case I’d exposed your secret Tinder technique.’
‘Yes, we met in the debating club, remember?’
Gen and I exchange glances. Nope, don’t remember that at all, but it couldn’t be more Sophie if she tried.
I should channel her, I think, and then I’d meet someone nice. My thoughts float in the direction of Alex, and I realise that if I was Sophie I’d probably just channel my thoughts in the direction of him, and he’d realise that he was looking for a relationship after all, and definitely wasn’t after a no-strings-attached shag-fest with Emma. I wrinkle my nose at the thought.
‘You all right?’ Gen looks at me with concern.
‘I’ve heard some horror stories about Tinder,’ I say quickly (it’s the first thing that springs to mind, and it’s true at least). ‘What if I end