23 Attempts at Love

Chapter 17: A Lack of Respect

After the break-up from Richard I spent a long time working on myself and, yet again, avoiding Tinder. My flatmate situation changed: Robbie and his girlfriend moved out into a place of their own and my old flatmate Katy moved in, having successfully found a place as a teacher in London. Sasha visited on her first weekend after moving in to celebrate with us and crash in my room with me: she still lived in Surrey with her parents and had no plans to move. To my surprise, neither of them had met Richard. I think I'd been so swept away in the whole relationship I'd not bothered to save a weekend to introduce them.

"God, girl, you need to get out there again," Sasha laughed. Katy had told her all about my complete lack of love life after being debriefed by the boys. Marcus and Will were worried about me moping around the flat and the sheer amount of time I was now spending on my own.

"No, no, I'm fine as I am at the moment," I insisted. And I was. I was throwing myself into work, had been given a raise and found another bestseller: John had even taken me on as his personal mentor at work, much to the annoyance of my new boss Hannah (Ed's replacement), who knew this was a big deal. She wanted the attention for herself, but I think she also knew she needed me in her department. We survived with a mutual level of respect, but I never got too close. I kept my work colleagues – except Ellie – at arm's length.

After two bottles of wine between the three of us, Katy and Sasha persuaded me to download Tinder again. Best friends always create bad decisions. We spent the rest of the night flicking through profiles and critically evaluating every single one.

"Oh, no, he looks like Richard," I groaned, instantly clicking off some poor guy who'd appeared on my screen.

"He was cute though! You can't get rid of every tall, brown-haired guy," Sasha laughed, grabbing the phone out of my hands. "Let me find you someone if you're so determined to find someone different."

Sasha found Marco, a 26-year old half-Italian guy who grew up with his parents in North London and "loved travelling, food and good wine", and boasted that he knew "exactly where to take you on a date". Bold strategy, let's see if it pays off.

Marco was confident right from the start: there was a lot of heavy flirting, a lot of flattery and an insistence that he should take me out on a date in a few days because we had "so much chemistry". He five-foot-ten with almost black hair, dark eyes, a slightly curled moustache, tanned skin and dark eyes. He wasn't at all my type but my type hadn't worked out so far, so why not go for it?

We met up for dinner at an Italian – of course – restaurant he insisted I should travel 45 minutes on the tube to get to, because it was of course the perfect place for a first date.

"I'm so glad you look like your pictures," he smiled as he first saw me. "It's so risky meeting people on dating apps nowadays, isn't it?" I smiled gracefully. Weird start.

Marco insisted on choosing the wine for the table, which I wasn't overly bothered about. He also insisted that he would be paying at the end, so I didn't mind that he was ordering the most expensive bottle on the menu. I did put my foot down, however, when he insisted I should order some specific pasta dish he promised was just incredible, when I wanted the risotto instead.

"It's still good. But not what I would've chosen in your position," he shrugged. He hadn't ordered the pasta.

The wine was good. Worth the money? I wasn't sure, but I wasn't paying. He made a big show of handing his credit card across to the waitress and promising that there was enough money for several dinners out with me.

"Have I told you how good you look, tonight?" He was practically drooling over me as we walked out together.
"Thanks," I smiled. What else could I say?