Page 12 of The Dicktionary Club

I recoiled a little. Jesus, I really had to nail my campaign or being out a job and four hundred quid down in the space of a month would put me out of my home and on to my arse.

‘I’ll transfer you now,’ I agreed.

‘Me too,’ Katy said, pulling out her phone.

‘I’ve also downloaded an entry form to gain access. I’ve ensured that no men can just decide to hop on and write positively about themselves. So, women have to apply to be a member and we vet them first. This has to be a strictly women-only. The Dicktionary Club is a cock-free zone.’

‘Jesus, we’ve created a secret society here!’ I turned to my pals excitedly.

‘No, we’ve created the ultimate prick list,’ Zola confirmed.

Together we hugged, laughing and screaming in delight. I could feel my heart bounce off my chest in anticipation.

‘Well, the hard part is done on my end, ladies,’ Zola said. ‘Now it’s time for you two to start dating! And I can tune up the other features over the next few days,’ she added.

My nerves returned in an instant, and I glanced towards Katy with a pleading look. ‘You’re going to have to show me the ropes.’

‘Pass me your phone, Ella Banks,’ she said. ‘You’ve got some serious swiping to do!’

Chapter Four

Ella

I entered my flat just after eight and slipped my shoes off in the hallway before bending down and angling them perfectly onto my shoe rail. I breathed a sigh of relief at returning home, hoping that by tomorrow my hangover would have shifted completely. I headed into the open-plan living room and kitchen area and slumped down on the soft, cream corner sofa.

I’d always loved my flat, my safe place to chill out and relax. I loved the high ceilings, the terrific central location, the granite worktops, and the pristine condition of every room. It combined the Victorian character of the building with my own modern twist. But I hadn’t always loved living alone. I bought the flat almost on a whim after seeing it listed on an auction site shortly after my breakup with Joshua and used my entire life savings to purchase it. I told myself I needed the distraction, that I needed to rebuild my life, so I focused every ounce of energy and penny I had into making it the dream apartment.

But truthfully, I wanted to impress him, to prove to him he’d made an enormous mistake, to show him what he was missing. Fuck, I even added in features I knew Joshua would approve of – like an alcove displaying an impressive record collection, knowing fine well the only music I listen to is Taylor Swift or Adele. I added a his-and-hers-style dressing room. Joshuawas heavily into fashion and designer labels, and he’d always promised to build a space for us both to get ready together when we finally ditched our rented studio and purchased our dream home. So, yep, I dedicated ten months of non-stop graft, overtime and endless frustrated tears just to be able to plaster the finished result on Instagram in the desperate, needy hope that he’d message me or ask to come round and then my dream flat would ultimately win him back. Yes, I tried to lure my ex-man back to me with a try-too-hard closet and a record collection, for fuck’s sake. He never did message, of course, and when I think of it all now, I still feel an achy pain grumbling in my chest, realising how utterly pathetic it was to decorate my entire home for a man who would never even set foot in it, let alone live there with me.

I mean, we had split up over a year before, for God’s sake, but still, I would lie in bed at night imagining scenarios of how he’d come back when he’d seen how well I was doing in life. Not that I wasn’t doing well before, but I wanted to show him how I’d managed to accomplish all of his expectations in my home all by myself. That I was so organised and had the dreamiest apartment and this great fucking life he could still be a part of. It was some unhinged attempt to prove my point, that my life was amazing and I was achieving everything and it didn’t revolve around procreating. Even now, it completely infuriates me that I allowed myself to love someone so deeply that it made me a crazy, chaotic, desperate person, and truthfully, I wasn’t prepared ever to let that happen again. Not now. Now that I’ve finally got my shit back together. I am happy, a happily single woman, and I’m in control. I have my friends, my job and a stunning flat, and I couldn’t think of anything worse than a man coming along to ruin my peace.

*

Ping.

I pulled my phone out of my back pocket.

Katy:The first coffee date is arranged for lunchtime tomorrow! How you getting on? X

I rolled my eyes, having not yet set up my Tinder profile after Katy downloaded the app for me at work.

Ella:Not long home. I will set it up just now. What pics should I use? X

Zola:YES, girls! I love the one of you in Italy with your tits out, babe x

I burst out laughing, thinking back to our summer holiday when we all went to a nudist beach, and Zola took a photo of me topless, holding two strawberries at my nipples.

Ella:That would get the dates in. Haha x

Katy:NO! Bad advice, ZO! I know this answer though, I saw on TikTok you should add one candid, one laughing, one businesslike, and one with an animal. Maybe a dog? Little cute vibe? Xx

Ella:I don’t have a fucking dog!!! Surely people don’t make TikToks on this?!

Katy:We will find you a dog in the street for a pic, El. haha! Xx

Katy:And they make TikToks on everything.

I couldn’t help but smile at her expert take on the online dating scene and, inspired, finally clicked on the Tinder app to set it up.

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