Page 13 of The App Trap
“Why’s it called Sliderr, anyway?”
“Sliding into your DM’s and all that rubbish. Come on, lad,you’reyoung… Ish.”
“Thanks. Oh, you know that ‘I’m a Twat’ on your mug doesn't work if it’s on the side? It should be on the bottom, so that when you drink it, people think you're a twat for not knowing it’s on there,” I said with just the right pinch of smug.
“Yeah, but if it’s on the side, then everyone can see I’m a twat all the time.”
“That they can, Neil. That they can.”
It was lunchtime.I was in a right strop after spending the best part of £500 on a new smartphone (albeit spread over a few years), after finding out that phone insurance was actually a thing. On top of that, all of the best benches around my favoured lunchtime spot on the South Bank were being hogged by pesky tourists. I’d made the error of buying myself a takeaway salad as well, so I couldn’t eat on the move. I thought I’d dilute my bad mood by having a quick swipe onKindred.
After pinging a load of matches that I hardly fancied, just to boost my ego, I came across a familiar face.
Coincidentally, it was someone from my brief cyber-past––Ben, the dangerous-looking steam-punk leather vamp that I had ignored in favour of Rob, the dangerous-looking winkle picker monster. So, I pinged him.
Ten seconds later, a white speech bubble appeared in my message section.
‘Hi.’
‘Hi. Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?’I typed lazily.
‘Yeah. I was actually gonna message you before, but was a bit busy with real-life stuff. Anyway, thought you looked kind of corruptible, so thought I’d try and entice you out. I see you're only around the corner from me. I’m in the South Bank too. What say you?’
‘What said I’ was ‘Yes, please’, despite it being a Monday. Still, I couldn't believe how quick and easy this dating app game was. I mean, it’d be rude not to go out and play, wouldn’t it?
I went back to work with such a thrill that I unofficially gave myself the rest of the afternoon off. I was way ahead editing an awful programme about some terrible people from Dudley starting a bar in Tenerife, so decided to spend the rest of the afternoon lightly brushing the front of my new phone with my finger. And why not? Watching the animation of a match snapping together was starting to give me an instant adrenaline rush.
It was nearing the end of the day. Unfortunately, I had my ‘Monday shirt’ on. It was my least favourite article of clothing, and I was only wearing it because:
It was Monday and why would you ever goout on a Monday?
All my best weekend stuff was in the wash.
I had left the house with absolutely no intention of doing anything except going to work, stopping at the Sainsbury’s Local on the way home to hover around the ‘Whoops trolley’, then catch up on a bit of late-night swiping, and:
Joel, my aforementioned work crush, was on holiday in the Costa del something or other, so it didn't really matter what I looked like.
Anyway, I was just about presentable enough for a quick flirt-ette. Annoyingly, Ben wanted to meet at 8pm for some reason, so I had to hang around and kill some time for a couple of hours, which was a real bore. And none of my inner circle of cronies were around for a ‘transfer’ pint.
Mind you, I didn't want to start hitting the sauce before I met him, just in case I got too rat-arsed before he turned up. I also didn't want to pile in the coffee either and end up with teacher breath, so I decided to remain at work and ended up demolishing the remainder of the water cooler.
It was approaching 8 o’clock. I took a final glance at Ben’s profile pictures, so that it was engraved into my brain what he looked like. I noticed that he’d uploaded a new picture of him dressed in a PVC army uniform, holding what looked like a table-tennis bat, which seemed like an odd choice of accessory to accompany that particular outfit. Well, at least I now had my opening question.
