Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
J ust the thought of going to IKEA makes me tired, but it is one of those places you have to go when you move to a new house. It’s a necessary evil. I do believe they intentionally made the layout this way to test how committed we are to getting a hotdog. No one wants a BILLY bookcase this bad, it’s got to be all about the hotdogs. If you make it out of the store without needing anger management, then a hotdog is your prize.
“Will you slow down?” I called to Sarah, as she whizzed her way around all the corners. “I’m going to lose you.”
“Just follow the arrows and stop when you see the beds!” she shouted over her shoulder. She was on a mission. Forty-five minutes later she had found the bed she’d been staring at online for the last few days, and successfully ordered it for delivery the following week, along with a gorgeous wardrobe with matching bedside cabinets and a unit for her home office. Not forgetting a BILLY bookcase.
After spending the last couple of weeks sleeping on a memory-foam mattress on her bedroom floor, she had finally found the perfect bed for it, and it was clear she was pleased as we made our way through the checkout.
“Are you sure Zack won’t mind helping to build it all?” she asked me as she took her receipt from the sales assistant. “I don’t mind asking my dad to help out. There’s a lot to do.”
“He offered to help you out anyway he can, and so will I.” I linked her arm as we exited the store. “He can help build it all and I can supervise and make the coffees. Perfect team.” We both laughed.
“Have you heard from Alessandro?” I asked a little while later, over lunch at a bistro table outside a local café.
“Not much really, although he did check that I’d made it home safely,” she said with a smile. “It was just a holiday fling, I think. It’d never work. Long distance is tough when it’s another town, never mind another country. But it was such a good idea meeting up with him. Even though it couldn’t have gone anywhere, I feel like I’m open to the idea of romance again.”
“Woo, progress!” I lifted my glass of water to toast this victory. “Here’s to getting back out there.”
We toasted my friend’s launch back into the single life.
“So, do you think you’re ready for actual dating, or do you want to leave it for now?”
“I think I’m ready now,” she took a sip of her Diet Coke, “it’s just, where do you meet people these days? I know you met Zack at work, but I work in a very female environment. There are no guys. Well, none who are attracted to what I have on offer anyway. How am I going to… What’s the matter?”
“I know what you should do.” I dropped my fork beside my plate.
“What?” she asked, digging into her food. “Stop looking at me like that, you look possessed.”
“I know what you absolutely have to do!”
The timing was perfect. She was finally healed emotionally, ready to move on. She had just bought her own house, so was feeling like the strong, independent woman I knew she was. Plus, it would be nice for the shoe to be on the other foot.
“Are you going to tell me, or what?” She looked scared.
I smiled. This was going to be fun.
“You, my dear most beautiful friend in the whole entire world, have to sign up to Find Me A Date.”
“Absolutely out of the question.” She shoved a forkful of chicken in her mouth.
“Why? You have to! You made me do it.”
“That was different,” she gulped down her food, “you needed a date to my wedding. No one we know is getting married, so I don’t need a date.”
“Yes, you do. You need some meaningless dates to get you back in the swing of things. Some harmless interaction just for practice, for when you meet someone you actually like.”
“Why can’t I just wait until I meet someone I like?”
“Because you’ll be too afraid to make a move, like I was. You’re doing this.” I reached for her phone, before she could stop me. “You made me do it, against my will, not to mention those lovely guys you set me up with. This is payback.”
I entered her passcode and downloaded the app before she could stop me. The ‘Find Me A Date’ logo hadn’t changed, and I shivered at the memories of crude messsages. It was a rite of passage in the dating world and Sarah needed to experience it.
I handed her back her phone. She stared at me, defeated. “You’re not going to let it go, are you?”
“Not until you’ve had at least one terrible date that I can laugh at. Come on, you owe me this at least. Or do I have to find some guys myself for you? I could always give Dreary Gerard a call? I’m sure he’d be available.” After my terrible date with him last year, I would be surprised if he was off the singles market yet. I’d honestly rather have watched paint dry than spend another moment in his company.
“Fine,” she huffed, and took her phone, typing in the answers to the basic questions and uploading a profile photo. She chose one from Rome, where she was standing with her back to the Trevi Fountain, her sunglasses on top of her head, one hand held up to shield her eyes from the sun. “There,” she said, handing her phone back to me after a few minutes. “Are you happy?”
I studied her profile, making sure I approved of the answers, when…
Ping.
“Woah, already? Check you out,” I said as the app suddenly pinged with a notification of someone liking her profile.
Ping: another like.
Ping: request to meet.
Ping: another like.
Ping: message request.
“These guys must be glued to the app waiting for fresh meat!”
“Let me see.” She wanted her phone back, but I got the first look. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
“Ha, typical. When I uploaded my profile, I got all the weirdos sending me crude messages. You’re getting all the hot ones. Look at this one,” I turned the phone for her to see, “Matthew, aged thirty-two from Leeds, veterinary surgeon. Unbelievable.”
“Oh, he looks nice.” She took the phone from me. “And look at this one too! Anthony, twenty-nine from Huddersfield, an audio engineer. Looks like he works at the local radio station. This might not be such a bad idea after all.”
“Is everything okay with your food?” the waitress asked.
“Yes.” Sarah smiled as I remembered I hadn’t started mine, and began munching on a chicken wing. “It’s great, thank you.”
“Well, it looks like you’ll be inundated with dates in no time. Do you want to reinstate the code word in case of an emergency situation?” I couldn’t remember how many times I’d had to send Sarah the infamous ‘tea’ message for an early escape.
“If I feel I absolutely have to, then I’ll send you an SOS. Ooh…” She was distracted already. “Look at this one. He’s already sent me a message to meet up.”
She passed me her phone. Arthur was a thirty-four-year-old investment banker from Harrogate. He also looked the absolute spit of Boris Johnson.
“He looks like a long-lost love-child of Boris Johnson, right down to the hairstyle.”
“Studied at Oxford though. Impressive, and very eligible, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Looks like his pockets are probably lined with personally embroidered handkerchiefs from Harrods instead of dead rodents from under a bush.” I wondered how Rob was getting on. My mum still doesn’t believe me when I tell her the story from that date. “Go for it.”
“I think I will.” She typed out her reply to him and pressed ‘Send’.
What’s the worst that could happen?