Page 32 of Swiping Right (and other disasters)

Kiera stepped into the street, trying to work out what it was she was feeling. She was surprised, that was for sure. She also felt a bit daft for having made such inaccurate assumptions. But there was something else there too, just beyond her reach, that she couldn’t identify.

She made her way to the supermarket to pick up some essentials. While she was there her phone pinged. It was the couple who were renting her old house. While Chrissie had responded to the divorce paperwork emails, she had failed to answer any questions about where she was or what she was doing, and said nothing about the house. Eventually, Kiera had emailed her to say she was going to rent the house out. She received no reply. The couple who lived there were in their mid-20s and seemed to have no discernible practical skills, so often these exchanges involved Kiera explaining to them how they might go about dealing with the ant invasion, or the blocked plughole in the bathroom. She couldn’t complain, really. They looked after the place. One day she hoped Chrissie would re-emerge so she could sell it. She didn’t want to live there again, but she didn’t want to rent forever, either. Today’s text was about the washing machine, which appeared to have stopped working. She sighed. This wasn’t something that she could fix herself. She responded to say she would pop in the following day, and if need be get a plumber out.

By the time she got back to her flat, it was lunchtime. She made herself a cheese and pickle sandwich and ate it with a packet of salt and vinegar crisps. This had been her lunch of choice as a child, and remained a very enjoyable comfort food. Now it was paired with a strong cup of tea, as opposed to the orange squash of her youth.

Chapter Twenty-One

Kiera’s phone pinged. She rolled her eyes, suspecting it would be her tenants again, but when she opened the phone she saw she had a notification from the dating app, letting her know she had ‘likes’ waiting for her. Before she could talk herself out of it, she opened it up for the first time in ages and started to scroll through. There were the inevitable animal filters and pictures of women alongside a large group of friends. She had no idea how she was supposed to know which was the one looking for a girlfriend. However, she had a sneaking sensation it wouldn’t be the most attractive one in the picture. She was being uncharitable and shallow, and she knew it.

The swiping left commenced, on each of the women with children in their picture. Why did they do this? She understood why people with children flagged they were a parent, but surely a picture of a child in your dating profile was unnecessary. She swiped left on at least seven profiles of women who were scowling at the camera in an apparent attempt at ‘being cool’, although she had a sneaking suspicion that using the word ‘cool’ was, in itself, uncool. Then there came the profile of a man with a pot belly holding a large fish that he had presumably just caught, as he was wearing waders. She wasn’t sure how he’d landed up in her suggestions.

Mr Chips was sitting beside her on the sofa, peering at her phone. Kiera posed the question to him. “Do you really think any straight women would find a picture of a man with a fish alluring?” Mr Chips looked away in disdain. “Exactly,” said Kiera, swiping left.

A smiley-looking woman beamed from the app. She was a bit younger than Kiera, but not by too many years. Her description of herself was fairly sane – so many profiles contained lists of all the things the person didn’t want, rather than what they did want. Kiera was tickled by the requests for ‘no baggage’ and ‘no drama’. She wasn’t sure anyone could get past the age of twenty-five with no baggage whatsoever; it was the human condition. And as for drama, well, she didn’t think she brought any, but she did appear to have had a very dramatic wife, before her vanishing act.

The smiley woman’s name was Abi. Kiera took a breath in and swiped right. Almost immediately a notification came up to say that they were a match. Kiera was surprised, and a little bit thrilled. It was always good to be wanted, even in a superficial way, on the basis of a photo and a few words.

She decided to be brave, and messaged Abi – just a message saying ‘hello’ and that she was pleased they had matched. She put her phone back on the table and busied herself with the washing up and a few chores. The flat had to be hoovered, and it was a good day for the job. By the time she was done, she found a message from Abi waiting for her.

“Hi there, Kiera, love the name. Fab to match too. I was beginning to lose hope. What are you doing this fine Sunday?”

“Hi, well I’m doing very exciting things like hoovering and shopping today, but later on I’ll be settling down with a book and a pot of tea. As you can see, I am very rock and roll,” typed Kiera. The truth was as good an answer as any.

Three dots appeared. “Nice. What are you reading? I’m currently working my way through the George R R Martin books. #heavy.”

“You’re braver than me. I’m reading Murder at the Vicarage – it’s the first Miss Marple book. I realised recently I’ve never read any Agatha Christie, and all I know about her I learnt mostly from an episode of Dr Who a few years ago. #MustDoBetter.”

“Love a bit of Agatha. I’ve not read the Marple books, but have read a few of her others. She was something of a mystery herself, wasn’t she?”

“So I gather,” wrote Kiera.

“Right, I need to go. TTFN. Talk later? X”

“Have a good one. Talk soon. X” Typed Kiera, hoping she had struck the right balance. Having a conversation about books definitely felt like a good sign.

She opened up her book and began to read. Today was a good day, washing machine notwithstanding.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Since their night out, Kiera and Clodagh had stayed in touch from time to time by text. Kiera felt less affected by their misunderstanding. Clodagh was beginning to feel like she might become a good friend. Charlie loved her, which helped. This was how they came to be lunching together in the hospital canteen again.

“So let me get this right,” said Clodagh, putting down her knife and fork. “She dumped you, rendered you effectively homeless, moved in a new girlfriend and then vanished into the night never to be heard from again.”

“Well, yes. When you put it like that it does sound rather extreme,” said Kiera, thoughtfully pushing round a blob of mashed potato on her plate.

“It sounds extremely selfish. I mean, we all know relationships don’t always work out, but there are ways you can leave a relationship without shitting on everyone else in the process.” Clodagh picked her knife and fork back up and continued to deconstruct the vegetarian lasagne that was her lunch. “Ok, so, how’s the swiping?”

“Ah yes. Well, there’s this woman called Abi and we’ve bonded over the books we’re reading. It’s really nice,” Kiera told her.

“Ooh, look at you, you’re hopeful. When are you meeting her?”

“Oh, she’s super busy with work for a week or two, but we’re going to get something in the diary for later on in the month,” said Kiera.

“Nice work. Have you checked all the acronyms on her profile?” Kiera looked at Clodagh and blushed. “Sorry, too soon?”

“Maybe a bit. But no, we’re ok.” Kiera gave Clodagh a shy smile.

“I’m glad,” said Clodagh. “I think friends is a good place for us to be.”

---