‘I have a cuddly one who lives on my bed,’ I say, because it feels safe to tell him that. Poor David is still stuffed in my suitcase because I felt a little embarrassed about bringing him. Now I know her, I feel like Dolly wouldn’t bat an eye at my emotional-support capybara.
‘I look forward to meeting him. I mean, sorry! That’s rather rude, isn’t it? He just sounds like a nice chap. That’s not me presuming I’ll see your bed. I’m… I’m making it worse.’ He’s so spluttery and sweet that I can’t stop laughing.
I know the show’s matchmakers set it up so that there are multiple on-paper compatible matches for each of us. But… wow. Do I really need to speak to anyone else?
There’s something about him: the way he talks, the way he asks me questions. I really want to see him again.
What if he’s the one? What if in two weeks’ time, he’s the man I’m engaged to? What if we’re married in a matter of weeks?
I think… I think I could see that.
I think Dolly would like him. He’s funny and silly and awkward and he sounds like a good man.
Our time flies by as we chat. He tells me about his quiet childhood watching a lot of television with his family pets, while his parents were working, and how all this time with animals led him to become a veterinarian, instead of a GP like his parents. I can’t believe we both work with animals. We bothloveanimals, and, if we got married, I wouldn’t have to explain about bringing babies home to feed. He’s open to relocating, and wants children when the time is right. All box ticks for me.
My notebook is untouched, and I’ve only drunk when my mouth felt dry. I’ve been so excited speaking to him that I haven’t had to find things to do with my hands.
What luck. How incredible that he was my first date. Does he want to see me again?
A jingle sounds through the speakers that apparently signals that it’s time for us to say goodbye and make our way outside.
‘I—’ I begin just as he says, ‘Oh really – sorry!’
‘You go first!’ I insist.
‘No, you!’
We share a giggle.
He clears his throat. ‘Maybe this will get easier with more dates?’
My heart catches. ‘So you’re already hoping for more dates?’ I whisper, trying to steady my voice.
‘Yes, I’d like to see you again, Carys. I’ve… I’ve got a good feeling about us.’
Me too, I think. ‘I want to see you again too,’ I say. ‘Goodbye for now, Patrick.’
‘Have a lovely day, Carys. I’ll see you again soon.’
The light dims and his voice disappears.
Gosh, I can’t believe I’m so lucky, to have maybe found my person on the first day. What are the chances?
I can’t wait to tell Dolly. I hope she’s having as lucky a day as me.
Chapter FiveDolly
Lina Chen, 25, Glasgow
I’m not really sure how to narrow it down. Everyone has a good soul, underneath it all. It’s hard to feel that through the wall. That’s what matters more than anything, I think. That the person I fall in love with is good. Flexibility is a bonus. Oh, because I’m a Pilates teacher! Oh no, I’m mortified. My mam is going to watch this.
This might be an absolute fucking washout.
My fourth date of the day is with a sweet guy called Cobey who just really loves to surf. I’m not sure if he’s so much looking for a wife as someone to help run his surf school at this point, but I admire the hustle. After all, I’m looking for a business arrangement of my own. Cobey is clearly far too nice to be that man for me.
‘The thing is, there’s nothing like being out there, on the waves. The peace of it, you know?’ His disembodied voice matched with my delirium from many hours talking to straight men makes me feel like I’m either having a conversation with a god well into water sports, or I’m on a podcast.
‘Yeah, I can imagine,’ I say, emphasising my faux enthusiasm because I genuinely don’t want to be impolite. I scribble down notes while I let him talk about his family history andwhy he set up the school, just to feel like I have something to do. It is a little worrying how well my cousin Jas’s advice of ‘let the men talk’ has gone down with all my dates.
