Perfect Match: a laugh-out-loud romantic comedy you won’t want to miss!. Zoe May

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      She wheezes, wiping the tears from her eyes.

      ‘Sorry, Sophia, but that was just…’ She shakes her head, turning her attention back to Dream Dates.

      ‘Okay, so, personal ad!’ she says.

      I stand up to make a second attempt at going to get my laptop but Kate tugs my arm, pulling me back down.

      ‘Not from the file!’ Her mouth twitches.

      I look at her blankly. ‘Why not?’

      Kate clears her throat and glances down awkwardly.

      ‘Well something’s clearly not working if you’re not meeting any decent guys the way you’re going about things at the moment. I’m not saying it’s you. It could be the sites but don’t you think it would be good to just start this profile completely from scratch? You said it yourself – no more loserish guys, seeing as this is the final attempt?’

      I shrug. ‘Suppose.’

      ‘Just freestyle it.’

      ‘Freestyle it…’ I groan as I take a sip of wine.

      ‘Yeah!’ Kate replies, the light from the laptop screen illuminating the look of hopeful determination on her face.

      I really can’t be bothered to create a whole new profile from scratch on yet another site just to attract yet another bunch of weirdos and fuck-boys, but Kate is so keen to help that I’d feel bad letting her down now. Suddenly an idea hits me. I’ve tried to find love – a genuine, open, honest connection – again and again. All I’ve wanted is to meet someone nice, kind, intelligent and fun, but that’s proven completely and utterly impossible. I’ve put myself out there, with my best photos and a smart, witty (and not to mention properly punctuated) profile, and all I’ve gotten in return is dates with creeps and bores, and unsolicited dick pics. Kate’s right, what I’ve been doing so far clearly hasn’t been working. Maybe being sincere gets you nowhere, maybe now it’s time to play the players at their own game, to fuck with the fuck-boys and dick around with the dick pic dudes. I’m done being nice sweet Sophia; my new profile is going to be a little different. I’m not going to look for love this time, I’m going to look for man candy with the most crass, superficial and crude profile I can imagine. It’s time to meet my ‘perfect’ man.

      ‘Why are you smiling like that?’ Kate asks.

      ‘Like what?’

      ‘I don’t know… mischievously.’ She narrows her eyes.

      ‘Oh, no reason.’ I shrug innocently.

      ‘Hmmm…’ Kate raises an eyebrow. ‘So, what are you looking for?’

      ‘I’m looking for someone who’s a cut above the rest,’ I tell her. ‘He’s cool, he’s confident. He’s suave and sexy. He’s smart and super successful, he’s got an incredible job.’

      Oh! What does Mr Perfect do for work? My gaze wanders over to the well-thumbed copy of The Stage on the kitchen counter. Maybe he could be an actor like Kate? I never get bored of hearing her talk about work. But then again, dating an actor as well as having one for a best friend might be a bit much.

      ‘Right, okay.’ Kate finishes typing and looks up from the keyboard. ‘Carry on.’

      ‘I’m thinking…’

      Voices from the street outside drift through the open window, distracting me.

      ‘Pass dat ting, bruv,’ someone says.

      I get up to close it and spot a group of teenagers huddled outside the council estate opposite, passing around a joint. A few of them are lounging on an old mattress someone dumped on the pavement a couple of days ago. No doubt too broke to pay Lewisham Council to come and pick it up. I fasten the window shut. I never used to mind living down this shabby old street; if I’m being perfectly honest, I’ve always had the cringe-worthily romantic notion that it doesn’t matter where you live, it doesn’t matter if it’s a little shabby around the edges, as long as you have love. I mean, look at Kate. She’s head over heels for Max and she’s happy with her lot – she doesn’t mind living in crummy old Lewisham. I sort of imagined that when I found someone, I’d stop noticing the rubbish on the streets and the loitering teens, too. But when you find yourself alone at twenty-eight sitting in a cramped flat, with the closest thing you have to love being a softly lit dick pic on your phone, your romanticism starts to wear off. Since love isn’t softening the edges of my existence, why not just look for a stinking rich guy instead? Someone who lives in a beautiful part of London with big wide streets lined with tall spacious houses. The wealthy yang to my impoverished yin. Perhaps a banker. No, a banker would be too dull. Maybe he could be an entrepreneur. Yes! That’s it. A wildly original self-made millionaire.

      ‘He’s an entrepreneur,’ I announce to Kate as I turn from the window and sit back down.

      ‘He’s not some boring Etonian who’s just climbed through the ranks in law or finance, he’s done something original instead. He’s started his own business, but not just some crappy business, a multimillion-pound business, obviously.’

      ‘Multimillion-pound business?!’ Kate scoffs. ‘Are you serious?’

      ‘Yes! Just write it!’

      She gives me a weird look.

      ‘Just do it!’ I insist.

      ‘Fine,’ she sighs, shaking her head as she types.

      I take another sip of wine, even though I’m already feeling pretty merry.

      Okay, so I’ve figured out that I’m looking for a self-made millionaire, but what does he look like? Obviously, I have my preferences, I definitely prefer tall guys, for example, though I’ve never considered myself particularly superficial when it comes to looks; after all, it’s what’s on the inside that counts, right? But, of course, this profile isn’t about what’s on the inside.

      ‘He’s good-looking, like, really good-looking… He’s got dark hair, blue eyes, maybe a bit of stubble… Actually, he has the face of Robert Pattinson but he’s more muscular. Yeah, he has the face of Robert Pattinson but with the body of Daniel Craig. He—’

      Kate sputters on her wine. ‘Stop, Sophia! Be serious, how many guys do you know that have the face of Robert Pattinson and the body of Daniel Craig?’

      I shrug. ‘If I knew anyone like that, I wouldn’t be sitting here now.’

      Kate rolls her eyes. ‘True. But seriously, I’m not writing that.’

      ‘But you told me to freestyle, that’s what I’m doing,’ I protest.

      ‘Yeah, but this is ridiculous!’

      I top up Kate’s wine glass. ‘Oh, come on, just write it.’

      ‘Fine.’ She carries on typing. ‘You do realise that no one in their right mind is going to reply to this though, don’t you?’

      ‘No one in their right mind replies anyway,’ I remind her as I lean back СКАЧАТЬ