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

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СКАЧАТЬ sound of Kate typing trails off.

      ‘What else?’ She looks up from the keyboard.

      Hmmm… What else does this guy have going for him? Oh, dress sense! I almost forgot!

      ‘He dresses well. He wears expensive, well-cut clothes, but he’s also got style, his own personal style. He mixes things up a bit. He’s not afraid to pair a vintage charity shop shirt with an Armani coat and—’

      ‘Are you actually serious?’

      ‘Yeah.’ I shrug. ‘What’s wrong?’

      ‘Anything else, apart from a penchant for Armani? His character, for example?! His values?’

      ‘Dress sense is important!’ I say.

      ‘Sophia!’ Kate rolls her eyes. ‘What’s his character like?’

      Hmmm… His character. Even if this guy isn’t going to be the love of my life, he at least needs to be independent and self-assured. I can’t stand needy guys. When I was with Sam (this was pre-Itchy and Scratchy), he was so clingy, he’d get jealous if I went gay clubbing with my latex-loving uni course mate. And the himbo would moan whenever I wanted to stay home and write my novel. No, I definitely can’t be dealing with needy.

      ‘He has his own interests, his own life.’ I pause. ‘Obviously, he’s more than happy to go on fun dates, but he gives me a bit of space to do my own thing. Maybe he travels with work a bit…’ I think for a minute. ‘Yes, that would be perfect. He travels with work, so he comes and goes. Maybe we only see each other a couple of times a week, but when we do, it’s always amazing. We don’t just sit in front of the TV day in, day out like boring couples, we go out to amazing restaurants. We go to the theatre, the opera…’

      ‘The opera?!’ Kate scoffs. ‘Since when do you go to the opera?’

      ‘I don’t! But that’s because I haven’t met this guy yet, he’s going to take me,’ I explain.

      ‘Of course he is…’ Kate types it in. ‘What about hobbies?’

      ‘His hobby is arranging incredible, exciting dates,’ I tell her. ‘It’s his thing.’

      ‘I mean proper hobbies,’ Kate points out. ‘Wholesome hobbies.’

      ‘Fine.’ I sigh. ‘He volunteers at an orphanage then,’ I mumble as I reach for another nacho.

      ‘An orphanage!’ Kate mocks. ‘How many orphanages do you know of in London?’

      ‘I don’t. But I don’t volunteer.’

      ‘Well, you help out with Lyn,’ Kate reminds me.

      ‘Yeah, but that’s not volunteering,’ I tell her, trying not to feel put out.

      You see, Lyn might be an older lady who I visit every week and help out by doing the odd bit of shopping, but it’s not volunteering. She lives down the road, and while technically, at seventy-four, she could be described as an old lady, she certainly doesn’t act like one. She’s like a friend to me but none of my mates my own age really get it. Lyn’s a great laugh, a born-and-bred East Londoner with a sharp no-nonsense wit you’d never expect from her benign-looking exterior. She’s a big fan of Fifties floral headscarves and bold red lipstick and even taught me how to wear my hair in victory rolls once. She’s incredibly sweet and caring and when I go over to her place on Saturday afternoons to watch Come Dine With Me, it’s one of the highlights of my week; it’s certainly not a chore or some kind of obligation.

      ‘Well whatever, scrap the orphanage idea, because I’m pretty sure they died out in the Victorian era. What kind of volunteering does he do?’

      ‘Does he have to do volunteering?’ I whine.

      ‘Well he needs to have something going for him, apart from a penchant for Armani!’

      ‘He is a multi-millionaire,’ I remind her. ‘But okay, if you say so…’ I think for a minute. ‘I know! He volunteers at an animal shelter. He loves animals. He has a cat. A fluffy one.’

      ‘How does he have a cat if he’s travelling all the time?’ Kate questions.

      ‘Because he has a maid.’

      ‘Right.’ Kate fixes me with an unimpressed look. ‘So, he has a cat and a maid?’

      ‘Yes!’

      ‘I’m beginning to see why you’re single.’ Kate shakes her head as she types it in. ‘Anything else?’

      I think for a second. That must be about it. I’ve covered everything from looks to pets to voluntary work. What else is there?

      ‘I nearly forgot!’ I plonk my wine glass down on the table, feeling a head rush from the booze.

      Kate looks up expectantly.

      ‘He’s got a massive cock!’ I add, grinning.

      After all, I don’t want to end up with some super-rich, gorgeous, well-dressed animal lover who’s crap in the sack. Sex is important too.

      Kate nearly spits out her wine. ‘Shut up, Sophia. I’m not writing that!’

      ‘Fine, I’ll write it then!’ I grab the laptop and start typing away.

      ‘I can’t believe you!’ Kate laughs.

      On second thoughts, I delete ‘massive’ and add ‘7 inches’. No, ‘7.5 inches’. Slightly above average, but not so big that it would be painful.

      ‘“Cock must be 7.5 inches,”’ Kate reads out, giggling. ‘Oh my God!’

      Oh, and girth. I don’t want some guy with a spaghetti dick. He’s got to have girth too. I make a circle with my thumb and forefinger, making it bigger and smaller until it’s just the right size.

      ‘What are you doing now?’ Kate sighs.

      ‘Do you have a ruler?’

      ‘What? Why?!’

      ‘Can you just get me a ruler?’

      Kate groans as she goes to get one from her bedroom.

      A minute later, she returns.

      ‘Cheers.’ I take it from her and rest it against the perfect girth circle I’ve created with my right hand.

      ‘Okay, “cock diameter must be 2.1 inches”,’ I type the words in as I speak. ‘Shit, how do you work out the circumference from that?’

      ‘I’m sure Mr Perfect is smart enough to figure it out,’ Kate tuts.

      I gaze at my ad dreamily.

      ‘Do you think seven and a half inches is enough? Or should I make it eight?’

      Kate grabs the ruler to compare.

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