Page 3 of Swiping Right (and other disasters)

Kiera rolled her eyes. “No. What on earth do I have to offer right now? Fortysomething lesbian with a mediocre job and a heart held together by sticky tape and string.”

“More than you might think,” said Lou, more gently this time. “You’re a catch. Just because Chrissie couldn’t see that, doesn’t make it any less true. Come on, bab, you’ll be the toast of Kings Heath – an eligible single lesbian? I might be straight, but I know how it goes around here!”

Kiera laughed. Lou was at least partially right. The Birmingham suburb, just a few miles from the city centre, was well-known for its gay community, and in particular for lesbian couples settling down with their obligatory cats.

“It’s a wonder you ever met Dan, really,” said Kiera, with a wink. Lou had come across the man who would become her husband in one of the local pubs at a gig many years earlier.

“Well, I like to buck the trend. And you,” she pointed a finger at Kiera, “you deserve happiness. And, if all else fails, at least sex. When was the last time you… you know?” Lou wiggled her eyebrows up and down.

“A lady never tells,” said Kiera, giggling.

“So it’s been over a year, then.”

Kiera sighed. “Obviously. I’m beginning to think I’m in permanent retirement in that regard.”

“Rubbish,” said Lou. “Now you have the chance to be the slut you always wished you were.”

“I did?” said Kiera.

“Well, if you didn’t, you should have. Think of all those women, just waiting for you to bring your gorgeous smiley face and hot sex in their direction. They’ll be queueing up outside the door.”

“I know you said you wanted to live vicariously through me, but you’ve clearly been giving this a lot of thought,” said Kiera with a laugh. It was good to giggle with her friend, and be reminded that all was not lost. Perhaps she wouldn’t be alone forever. Perhaps Mystic Lou’s prediction of hot sex in her future was accurate.

“There’s no time like the present. Come on. Pass your phone over.” Lou’s hand grabbed the device, and before long she had her reading glasses on and was downloading an app.

Her eyes intent on the screen, Lou was pummelling Kiera with questions.

“Age? Forty, right? Type?”

“Forty-one. Type? Oh, I don’t know. If recent evidence is anything to go by, it would be flighty types unable to take responsibility for their own actions.” She paused. “Er, I suppose someone who’s intelligent, good hair, nice smile, funny.”

“And just girls, right?” said Lou, studiously going through the list of questions.

“Afraid so.”

“It’s the right call. Men are boring – look at me and Dan. I can barely tear him away from Netflix of an evening,” said Lou.

“Aw, but Dan’s a sweetheart,” Kiera told her, remembering the night he’d come to her rescue six months earlier, when the roof had started leaking.

“Oh, I know, he’s a goody. He’s just a bit dull. Anyway, this is about you, not me. Body type?”

“What, me? Or who I’m looking for?”

“Both.”

“What are the choices?”

“Curvy, slim, muscular, large, petite.”

“Oh, why is this so complicated?” said Kiera. “I remember when it was just about going to the pub, getting drunk and seeing what happened next. When did everything get categorised like this? I mean, surely you can be more than one of those things at any one point?”

“I didn’t make the rules,” replied Lou, her fingers drumming on the table as she eyed Kiera over her glasses like a schoolteacher.

“Ok, so put me down as ‘curvy’, although it’s a toss-up between that and ‘petite’. And what am I looking for? Who knows?”

“Shall I tick ‘don’t mind’?”

“Yes. Why didn’t you say that was an option?” said Kiera, draining her coffee and beginning to gather the final crumbs on the end of her finger. “Anyway, how do you know so much about lesbian dating apps?”

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