38
Two weeks after the wedding and the end of my dreams of dating a guy as cool as Miles, I am doing better. And by better I mean not at all but I’m showing it much less. The only person who sees me mope now is Emme, which is why she’s trying to get me to go out today. She claims that I need to leave the house but since online shopping and Deliveroo exist, I really don’t know why. What’s out there that’s so great anyway?
In fairness to her, she hasn’t asked me to explain anymore about what happened. She has accepted me telling her that it really was fake, even if she seems concerned about me.
“Delaney,” Emme says, dressed in a pair of spray-on jeans and a strapless white top. She looks beautiful, as she usually does, and is ready for a night out with the marketing gals. “Come on, it’ll be fun. You love dressing up,”
I snort, “First of all, dressing up is significantly less fun when it’s raining,” I say, gesturing to the downpour outside, “and secondly, no offence, but the marketing girls are really not going to make me feel good tonight. They’re all way too good at holding down things like good skincare and hot boyfriends,”
Emme snorts, “Actually Marissa just split up with her hunky Finance Bro boyfriend and she’s pretty distraught about it,”
I roll my eyes, “Marissa has dated five finance bros this year. I’d suggest they weren’t particularly serious since there’s been five others in nine months, and that maybe she needs to look outside of the Liverpool Street area for men,”
“She met this one on Tinder,” Emme clarifies, packing her bag with lipstick and tiny perfume bottles.
“Even worse,” I say, thinking of Miles’s older brother Jem. Marissa would love him.
Stop thinking about Miles. Even indirectly.
“Maybe that should be your answer,” Emme says like she’s just solved the mystery of life, the universe, and everything, and it’s not, in fact, 42, “Tinder,” She does a little ta-da gesture with her hands too.
I snort, “Emme, my appeal is very much an in-person appeal. And I don’t have much of it then anyway,”
She rolls her eyes, “I swear to god, Delaney,” she says, “Download Tinder right now. If nothing else, at least you’ll see how many men think you’re a fucking knockout,”
“I highly doubt—
“If you don’t download it now, I’ll stop bringing you ice cream,” Emme threatens like she is genuinely getting sick of me. And she probably is, I’m not exactly a lot of fun right now.
“Fine,” I say, opening the Play Store and typing Tinder in, “Maybe I’ll go on a date and get murdered. At least I won’t have to be here anymore,” I ponder rather nihilistically.
Emme rolls her eyes, “I am leaving right now before I smack you,” she says, “I hope when I see you tomorrow you’ve learned how many men want to bang your brains out,”
*
Tinder does help.
I don’t ever admit it to Emme. In fact, I spend the next week telling her that Tinder is a terrible place. And my god it is. The things men say to you on that goddamn app. I mean, the audacity.
But, every time I get a match, I do feel better. And then I hate myself for needing the validation of men. And then I remind myself that it's okay to sometimes need someone else to see you. And then one of them speaks to me and I remind myself that while I like the matches, I am unlikely to date anyone who asks me my favourite position with a winky face the first time they speak to me.
I am using it like a game too. I’m intentionally swiping right on the hottest most unattainable guys. Emme told me that this is a good idea because then I can date someone hot, but she doesn’t realise I’m just doing it to see if they even fancy me. Some of them actually do and it’s madness. I’ve always assumed men needed to get to know me before they found me attractive, but maybe it’s the other way around, maybe it’s my personality that’s off-putting after all.
I am still swiping when I plonk myself down into a cushy armchair in the coffee shop round the corner.
We live close enough to High Gate that whenever I want to meet someone close to my house, I tell them about this coffee shop. I am sipping my oat latte and swiping right on a guy who looks like a model when Jas drops into a seat opposite me.
She has a drink with so much whipped cream on top I wonder how she’s so slim. She’s fucking glowing. The Bahamas clearly agreed with her (though I’d argue that the Bahamas and a honeymoon suite probably agree with everyone).
Her tan is gorgeous and her hair is naturally highlighted.
“Are you on Tinder?” Jas asks, frowning at my phone.
I feel myself blush, “Emme suggested it would make me feel better,”
Jas frowns, “Why would you need to feel better? Wait, what did I miss?”
I frown back at her, “Has Miles not told the family?” I ask, thinking that his dad would probably be thrilled. I’d be surprised if he and Adriana hadn’t already been locked in a cupboard together by Art and Ray to play Seven Minutes in Heaven at the latest get-together.
Jas raises an eyebrow, “Cute that you think he tells his family anything,”
I snort, and then shake my head. “I guess you could say we broke up,”
I want to come clean with her, but I also know that would mean being really honest and telling Miles’s secrets too. And though the thought of him makes me want to dry heave at the moment, I still can’t bring myself to.
Jas frowns again, “You’re joking?”
I shake my head.
She looks confused, “No,” she says, “You can’t have. You were like fucking Romeo and Juliet at the wedding,”
I snort. We really must have sold it, man.
“What happened?” she asks, “Seriously, are you okay? I can’t believe you’ve broken up. You guys looked like you were on a fucking honeymoon. I think I might even have been jealous of you at my own wedding,”
I snort again, and then I try to explain, “I think I just realised how much I can’t be what he needs. I guess, after meeting the family, I kind of don’t fit,” I say, “and, uh, I kind of got the impression that he wanted to get back with Adriana. I mean, her dad and his dad seemed to think so,”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” she asks, “He’s going to go back to that evil witch? ”
“I, er, I was going to ask if you knew anything about it,” I say, “but clearly he’s not even told anyone,”
She shakes her head, “We all had dinner a few days ago, but Miles was his usual self. I can’t believe that if he were back with Adriana his dad wouldn’t have announced it. I swear, his dad should probably marry Adriana for how much he loves her,”
I frown, “Maybe she’s not back in London yet,”
“Oh she is,” Jas says, grimacing, “Her and her awful friends were all over Instagram last night at some champagne bar like the absolute snobs they are,”
I snort, “At least I know I’ll never bump into her,” I say, “I don’t frequent champagne bars,”
Jas laughs, “You really have to be a certain kind of person to go to them,” she says, “Anyway, Miles is an idiot if he really is going to leave you for her. You’re so cool and down to earth. Adriana is the all-time worst and I thought he was better than that,”
Jas really is the sweetest person on earth.
Thankfully, she has the good sense to spend the rest of our time together talking about the Bahamas, ranting about how many people have asked her if she’s planning on having kids, and then helping me swipe right on potential new boyfriends on Tinder.
She leaves me a few hours later, promising to glower at Adriana if she turns up at any family events in the next few months and I laugh and hug her goodbye.
On my way home I consider that if I get close enough to Jas, she might teach me how to get my makeup to stay on my face, and if I could manage that, I think I would feel more fulfilled than I would were I to find a boyfriend anyway.