Page 106 of Good Sisters

‘Maybe you need to change your online dating profile. Let’s jazz it up a bit. We’ll go out, get your hair and make-up done, take a new photo, and FaceTime Christelle and Kelly to help with the wording.’

Marion put down her cup. ‘They don’t want me bothering them on their big trip. Besides, that’s the problem right there. People getting all dressed up and made-up, and pretending they look better than they do and that they’re into opera when they actually like Dolly Parton. Saying they love to travel when the furthest they’ve been is bloody Blackpool. Saying they like going to cultural events when that means watching football in the local pub over a rake of pints. Saying they’re forty-five when they’re on a zimmer frame, and that they’re six feet tall when they’re fucking Oompa Loompas. I’m just so over it. In fact, you know what? I’m going to put up the only honest profile online.’

Before I could stop her, she had taken a selfie – and, in truth, it was not a good look. She looked like she’d just rolled out of bed, which she had. She had no make-up on and hadn’t even brushed her hair. She began to type furiously. I peered over her shoulder.

Honest profile – I’m fifty-one. I have a shit load of baggage: I’m divorced, with four kids. I’m fed-up spending every night sleeping alone. I’m lonely as hell. I want a companion. I want occasional, undemanding sex. I want a laugh, a few beers, and someone to hold my hand when it all gets too much. I fucking hate opera and posh dinners. I like pubs, cheesy eighties pop music and reading romance novels. I like mindless TV. I hate subtitled films or TV shows – if I want to read, I’ll get a book. This is what I actually look like, no filter, no make-up, no bullshit. I am five foot four and about a stone overweight. I have bags under my eyes and my boobs sag a bit, but I’m funny and I know how to have a good time. If you’re a short, fat, ugly bloke, be honest about it. If you make me laugh, I’ll give you a chance anyway. Life’s too hard to spend it on your own. I’ve had lots of shit dates, one when the guy legged it and left me paying the dinner bill. If you want to meet me, be honest and don’t be a fucking wanker. PS No dick pics. If I want to see your penis, I’ll let you know.

Wow, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It was so raw and honest.

‘I’m sorry you’re lonely. I wish I could help more.’

Marion put down her phone. ‘Julie, you house me every month. You listen to me moaning and you’re always boosting my ego and telling me I’m great. You are a brilliant friend. No one can fix loneliness, except maybe your man, that actor fella, the big strong one, The Rock. He’d definitely help.’

Before I could respond, Marion’s phone began to ping and ping and ping. It was worse than my WhatsApp group.

She picked it up and began to laugh. ‘Well, well, well. It seems I’ve hit a nerve. I’m being inundated.’

‘Let me see.’

She turned her phone around and we checked out the replies. To be fair, there were a lot of frogs, but a few decent-looking men too.

Marion flicked through them. We finally agreed on one for a coffee date. He was medium height and looked a bit nerdy, but his reply was so enthusiastic and effusive that I thought she should give him a try. She replied to him and the coffee date was set up.

Marion peered at her watch. ‘That took twenty minutes. From now on I’m only going to be completely honest. I don’t have to worry what they’ll think of me because the photo shows me at my worst. And they know I curse and don’t want to talk bullshit.’

I clapped. ‘That is the most impressive online dating activity I’ve ever seen. I’d say you could be up for an award.’

Ping ping ping.

‘Jesus, what have I started?’ Marion giggled. ‘Who knew men wanted honesty? They’re usually a bunch of lying pricks.’

We cracked up laughing.

‘Well, that’s lovely. Am I included in that?’ Harry said, as he walked into the kitchen.

Marion patted his cheek. ‘No, you’re one of the rare good guys.’

Harry began to faff about with his ridiculously over-the-top coffee machine. It was his Christmas present to himself last year. It was like something you’d see in a very high-end coffee shop. He still didn’t know how to use all the accessories and kept scalding himself.

‘Glad to hear it. Would you like coffee to go with your brandy?’

Marion grinned. ‘Yes, I would. I’m celebrating, Harry. I’m going on a date. With a square of a fella who seems genuine. Julie chose him over the small fella I thought was funnier. She said I need to go for kind over funny.’

‘Probably good advice.’ Harry swished the milk under the milk-frother thing. It made violent spitting sounds and I saw him wince as boiling milk drops landed on his hand.

‘Well, I went for kind and it worked out well.’ I smiled at my husband.

‘Am I not funny too?’

‘Sometimes you can be,’ I said.

‘To be fair, Harry, you’re about as funny as a fucking Mormon, but you are one of the kindest people I know.’

‘I don’t know whether to be insulted or flattered.’ Harry smiled as he handed her a coffee.

Marion showed Harry a photo of her date.

‘He looks like a decent bloke. Might I suggest you try not to use every curse word known to man in the first five minutes?’

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