My phone is vibrating. I reach into my implausibly oversized handbag, through the maize of lipglosses, wet wipes, discarded chewing gum wrappers and the portfolio of notebooks I use to control my scattiness (must clean out my handbag), and pull out my phone.
“Hello?”
“Hey! Is that D? Love God here. This is your lucky day!”
Oh for God’s sake. “Erm…”
“From the dating website! Love God! How’re you doin’, D? Oh! Wait! Hang on, I’m just trying to locate this property on the map… I’m a property developer. I’ve just been sent through a property. I’m probably going to buy it, yeah. I just want to see where it’s located, but I can’t find it… can I call you back in a couple of minutes?”
Against my better judgment, I agree, although it is clear to me that I am unlikely to ever want to spend the rest of my life with “Love God”, let alone a single evening in his company. He calls me back.
“So, D. You look beautiful in your picture – really exotic. Where are you from?”
“Um… London.” I roll my eyes. I am a cynical Jewess, I think; that much should have been obvious from my profile. Of course I look a little ethnic, and I’m hardly going to fall for a line like that.
“So, D! When are you going to have dinner with me?” The same question he has posed to me in his the three e mails and 2 text messages he has already sent me in the space of a week. “I’m cocky, aren’t I? I’m very direct. A real go-getter! I see what I want, and I just go for it!”
Hmmm, I think. Cocky? Direct? Love God? Honey, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Just try your lines on me, and see what happens. You may find yourself working harder than you’ve ever worked in your life to impress. This could be fun…
“Well, Love God,” I say. “You’re giving yourself a lot to live up to.” I can practically hear him smirking on the other end of the line. “So,” I continue, “How’s Thursday night?”
“Hello?”
“Hey! Is that D? Love God here. This is your lucky day!”
Oh for God’s sake. “Erm…”
“From the dating website! Love God! How’re you doin’, D? Oh! Wait! Hang on, I’m just trying to locate this property on the map… I’m a property developer. I’ve just been sent through a property. I’m probably going to buy it, yeah. I just want to see where it’s located, but I can’t find it… can I call you back in a couple of minutes?”
Against my better judgment, I agree, although it is clear to me that I am unlikely to ever want to spend the rest of my life with “Love God”, let alone a single evening in his company. He calls me back.
“So, D. You look beautiful in your picture – really exotic. Where are you from?”
“Um… London.” I roll my eyes. I am a cynical Jewess, I think; that much should have been obvious from my profile. Of course I look a little ethnic, and I’m hardly going to fall for a line like that.
“So, D! When are you going to have dinner with me?” The same question he has posed to me in his the three e mails and 2 text messages he has already sent me in the space of a week. “I’m cocky, aren’t I? I’m very direct. A real go-getter! I see what I want, and I just go for it!”
Hmmm, I think. Cocky? Direct? Love God? Honey, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Just try your lines on me, and see what happens. You may find yourself working harder than you’ve ever worked in your life to impress. This could be fun…
“Well, Love God,” I say. “You’re giving yourself a lot to live up to.” I can practically hear him smirking on the other end of the line. “So,” I continue, “How’s Thursday night?”
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