‘Sometimes, at the gym…’
Bloody hell, is it always the gym with him?
‘What about reality shows?’ I press on. ‘Do you enjoy shows likeLove IslandorWelcome to Singledom?’
‘I’ve never watchedLove Islandbut thatWelcome to Singledomis all right,’ he says. ‘That’s the one where the couples have to survive on a deserted island?’
I nod.
‘Yeah, I like that, because the lads have to be strong and sharp and that,’ he says. ‘The lasses just have to be hot and pick the right bloke. I reckon the girls would be fighting over me, don’t you think?’
‘Oh, yeah, of course,’ I reply.
‘I think it might be the same tonight,’ he says, puffing up his chest. ‘So, if you want me, better say something to sell yourself now…’
The buzzer sounds, prompting the men to move on. Saved by the bell.
As much as it pains me to do it, I make a note to say that, yes, Brad has made the shortlist. Hopefully the only way is up.
The next man to sit down in front of me is wearing a T-shirt with a bunch of different cryptocurrencies on it. It’s not looking good, is it?
‘Hey, I’m Callum, everyone calls me Cal,’ he tells me as he makes himself more comfortable.
‘I’m Cleo, hello,’ I say back.
‘Are you looking for a man in finance?’ he asks with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
I’m not. Not at all.
Callum might work in finance but he isn’t very tall and his eyes are brown.
‘I’m looking for a man who likes to take risks, who is looking for an adventure,’ I reply.
‘Risk is a big part of my job,’ he says. ‘I’m this close to making my first mil.’
He holds his finger and his thumb about a centimetre apart and smiles like I might be about to fall at his feet. There’s a Shania Twain song for moments like this, and it isn’t ‘You’re Still the One’.
‘Coooool,’ I say, holding on the word a little longer than can possibly be sincere. He’s oblivious though. They’re all always oblivious. I meet men like this all of the time and it’s always the same old story. Sometimes I wish I could mix things up a bit. ‘Could you live without Wi-Fi?’ I ask, moving things along.
‘Wi-Fi? What? No, of course not,’ he says – now he’s looking at me like I’m an idiot. ‘Why would I? Why would anyone? Don’t be so stupid.’
Gosh, I just love it when men call me stupid.
‘Not being dramatic at all, I’d rather die,’ he continues and I believe him.
The buzzer sounds and Cal leaves. Big fat no for Cal. It’s also a no for Bart, the poet, and Ellis, the introvert, forced to come here by his friends. Mike, the personal trainer and part-time theme park character gets a yes, despite bragging to me about how dressing up as a cartoon dog is a great way to ‘pick up mums’ and women who want to ‘rub his belly’. I think Mike might need putting on a different kind of list too – more of a register, if anything.
I don’t know if tonight feels a little more bleak than usual or if I’m just so, so sick of looking for Brads and Mikes. Every conversation cements for me that there is in fact no one out there for me. Not one man on this planet I can stand spending more than a few minutes with.
Looking at my form, I can see that the next speed date is the last. Just one more man, one more boring conversation, one more short burst of disappointment and then I can go home.
‘Hi,’ he says.
I look up. He’s taller than the others, broad-shouldered but without looking like he’s inflated segments of his T-shirt like a lot of the gym bros do. His dark brown hair is blown back, and it looks almost too good, the kind that requires a routine and products, and he’s got enough stubble to pass as a beard, but not so much you can’t see the dimples in his cheeks when he smiles. I’m surprised, not by how good he looks, but by how good I think he looks. I don’t usually get anything at first sight apart from annoyed, but this guy has actually caught my eye.
‘I’m Lockie, nice to meet you,’ he says, sliding into the seat opposite me.
I feel… I don’t know. Like I need to remind myself to play it cool? But I don’t, at all, I just need to talk to him, find out if he’s what I’m looking for, and put a cross or a tick next to his name.
