Perfect Match: a laugh-out-loud romantic comedy you won’t want to miss!. Zoe May
didn’t I tell you he was a catch?’ Sandra grins, looking over. ‘And isn’t his writing great?’
‘Yeah, it is…’ I reply, unable to peel my eyes away from his message. It sounds so friendly and so normal for a change. And Sandra’s right, his punctuation and grammar are spot on too, now that I come to think of it.
‘Are you okay? You seem a bit dazed,’ Sandra notes.
‘I just… I didn’t expect that at all.’
‘But didn’t I tell you? He’s a total dreamboat.’
Where does Sandra get these words, ‘dreamboat’ and ‘dish’? If it wasn’t for the fact that she despises make-up, I’d think she was some sort of beauty school dropout.
‘Yeah, he’s a dreamboat all right,’ I can’t help agreeing, although I’m still feeling a bit taken aback. That profile was a joke, I never expected to actually meet the kind of guy I described. And yet, I can’t help feeling a bit giddy at the prospect of having found someone who fits the bill – a sexy Robert Pattinson lookalike with a rescue cat!
‘You have to meet him, Sophia,’ Sandra insists. ‘You can’t let this one go.’
Suddenly Ted strides into the office, clutching a brown paper bag and steaming polystyrene cup. I quickly shut down the site and frown, as if I’m concentrating hard on catheters. Sandra does the same. Ted nods firmly in our direction before retreating to his desk.
I click into my emails and write a message to Sandra.
From: [email protected]
Subject: UTIs
Definitely not letting this one go!
Sandra looks over from her desk and gives me a big thumbs-up.
‘You’ll never guess what?’ I bolt through the front door and rush over to the sofa.
‘What?’ Kate looks up from the script she’s reading as I plonk myself down next to her. She’s sitting cross-legged in her black and white striped leggings.
‘You won’t believe it. You know that ad we placed on Dream Dates? Well, this guy replied. He’s totally gorgeous. Looks like Robert Pattinson. Spitting image but better. Body of Daniel Craig. Oh my God and he has a cat called Esther and—’
‘Sophia!’ Kate interrupts a little loudly. ‘What are you on about?’
‘That ad we placed on Dream Dates the other night. Well this guy replied, he basically meets all the criteria, except maybe the penis size, he didn’t mention that, but he seems to be my dream date!’ I clap my hands together.
Kate raises an eyebrow. ‘Yeah, right. So, what, some random guy messages you claiming to be the spitting image of Robert Pattinson?’
‘Yeah, but I saw his pics and he actually is and—’
‘Sophia, any idiot can take photos off Google of Robert Pattinson and create a profile on a dating website. You’re not buying into that are you?’ She gives me a wary look like I might have finally lost it for real.
‘I’m not going crazy, trust me,’ I insist. ‘Sandra’s seen him and apparently he looks just as good in person, if not better.’
‘Sandra’s seen him?’ Kate looks confused.
‘Yeah.’ I tell her the story of how Sandra ended up checking him out in The Anchor and Hope.
‘Sandra?’ Kate enunciates. ‘Sandra?’ She raises her voice a little louder. Reading the script must have thrown her into full-blown melodramatic actor mode.
‘You’re not actually trusting Sandra for dating advice, are you? The woman whose closest brush with intimacy is cuddles with little Hammy?’
‘Her hamster’s called Betsy actually.’ I point out.
Kate tuts. ‘Same difference.’
I feel myself sink a little into the sofa, my shoulders slumping. What if I have got carried away? Kate’s right, he could have used photos from Google. Why didn’t that occur to me? Maybe he’s a pro at Photoshop. He might have enhanced the eyes to make them even more striking and merged Daniel Craig’s body with RPatz’s head. It’s not like I’ve seen this guy with my own eyes, I am basing everything on what Sandra says and it’s true, she’s hardly an authority when it comes to men.
‘Look, I don’t mean to piss on your parade but I’ve just seen you do this so many times.’ Kate fixes me with a serious look. ‘You build men up to be these absolute gods and then you get disappointed when you realise they’re just normal human beings. That’s always your downfall. I just think you need to take a more rational approach to dating, take things slowly, don’t expect the world and keep an eye out for weirdos,’ she tells me sagely.
‘Yeah, I suppose you’re right,’ I admit reluctantly.
Kate places her script down on the coffee table. ‘Well, let’s see him then.’
I glance up at her. ‘Eh?’
‘Show me his profile,’ she insists.
‘But you think he’s a fake?’
‘Yeah, but I want to see the profile anyway. I’m curious now.’
‘All right.’ I grab Kate’s laptop from the table and open a browser. I log on to Dream Dates and pull up Daniel’s profile.
Kate pulls the laptop onto her lap and clicks through his photos with a blank expression, not saying a word.
‘Well?’
‘He’s gorgeous,’ she remarks. ‘You weren’t exaggerating when you said he looks like Robert Pattinson.’
‘I know!’ I can’t help grinning. ‘Just think what he’d look like in the wedding photos! And we’d have such cute babies!’
‘His lips are actually better and those eyes…’ Kate slowly shakes her head. ‘He must be really good at Photoshop.’
‘What?’
‘Well, yeah, obviously! Someone’s winding you up! You say you want a Robert Pattinson lookalike and then the first guy who messages you is exactly that.’
‘He wasn’t the first guy who messaged me,’ I tell her. ‘There were loads before him.’
‘Oh.’ Kate looks taken aback. ‘Why didn’t you mention them?’
I shrug. ‘Just the usual drivel. Not even worth mentioning.’
‘Hmmm…’ Kate scrolls down Daniel’s profile. ‘Income over one hundred and fifty thousand pounds a year, six foot one, twenty-nine years old. Yeah right.’ She rolls her eyes.
‘But Sandra saw him,’ I remind her.
‘Well maybe Sandra created this profile! Maybe she’s catfishing you to get you back for never having gone with her to knitting club!’ Kate suggests, her eyes sparkling wickedly.
I grab the laptop.
‘Are you deleting your account?’ she asks.
‘No, just logging off.’
‘Sophia…’ Kate groans.
I log off and snap the laptop closed, before setting it back down on the coffee table.
‘You’re not annoyed, are you?’ Kate asks, giving my hand a squeeze.