Page 14 of A Second Chance Summer in Dublin
Mia nods, popping the olive in her mouth and swallowing it whole. ‘Anyway, so to my exciting news – because your timing last night was impeccable, my friend.’ A huge grin spreads across her ridiculously pretty face. She unzips her miniscule designer purse and slides a yellow Post-it across the table towards me.
I shove the water glasses to one side before I pick it up. ‘What’s this?’
Mia flicks her post-Michael shorter, blonder curls over to one side, click-clacks her nude nails across the Post-it. I notice she’s started to do a liquid wing with her eyeliner, too. ‘It’s a dating site for people like you who are looking for a real match. People who are fed up with being judged on their looks by arseholes who just wanna park and ride; people fed up with feeling eyed-up like a rookie solider on an inspection line out.’ She knocks out a salute.
‘I’m not joining a dating site for fu—!’ I recoil, shake the ice in my drink, prod it with my soggy straw and stare down at the Post-it.
A queue of cinema-goers forms opposite us for the next screening,Dr Strangelove, eyes drifting over to me. The sound and smell of hot, freshly popping corn envelops my nostrils. The movies are my happy place. Logan only liked theatre, he hated the cinema.
Mia lowers her voice. ‘This is not Tinder.’ She stabs the Post-it.
I make the sign of the cross. ‘Praise be to the lord,’ I whisper.
But Mia leans in closer. ‘But friendly date for my party aside, you must want to meet someone again, Grace? Find a genuine connection with someone? Fall in love again? Right?’ She raises a curious, shapely brow.
‘Eh .?.?. yeah, sure .?.?. I mean what even is lust? What is beauty? What is sexy? After a while, why is it important? God knows, I was brainwashed by Australian soaps and American teen dramas, dreamy Netflix shows. I looked for the beautiful because that’s what I was programmed to do. But what is behind the eyes? If they don’t have character, if they don’t have soul, your impression of their beauty is going to fade quickly.’ I roll the tension from my shoulders hoping she will drop this.
‘You’re preaching to the converted, babe.’ Mia crosses her arms and rolls her eyes back at me.
‘Sorry, I know. Humour matters, too. Massively.’ I prod the ice to one side with my finger.
Mia leans so far across the table it looks like she’s cut herself in half. ‘Okay! So welcome to Beyond Looks, a dating site with a difference.’ She beams like she’s told me the secret of youth.
I pick up the little square piece of paper; the top edge sticks to my finger. ‘Okay. Sounds intriguing. How’d you hear about this site?’
‘Well .?.?.’ As she sits back, her eyes suddenly dart to a server passing carrying a tray of ice creams, ‘I’m starving, though. Fuck this diet shit, I’m gonna need dessert. Why’d you let me order that tiny but delicious hummus and olive plate?’ She stabs a finger at me.
‘Because you told me to only let you order that tiny but delicious hummus and olive plate or you’d punch me.’ I wrinkle my brow.
‘Cinnamon-sugar churros with ice cream and chocolate sauce will fix that. Catch the eye of that server on his way back if you can. Now, back to my exciting news. So, I was sharing a table with this woman last night in that new cocktail bar on Dawson. Rebecca Byrne-Smyth. She set up the Beyond Looks dating site a few months ago, and it’s really taking off now. Everyone’s talking about it. First names only. You don’t have to upload any picturesif you don’t want to, and you only have two lines to describe yourselforwhat you’re looking for.’
‘Right.’ I lick my fingers, pick up my napkin.
‘So, when you said you wanted me to find you a date for my party I thought it might be good place to start .?.?. and I set you up a profile on it.’ Mia clicks her fingers on both hands, jiggles her shoulders.
‘You did what?’ I inhale sharply.
A flick of her wrist, an impatience. ‘Rebecca walked me through it, and she gave me free membership. I had that lovely picture of you with your design award on my phone, and I know what you’re looking for so .?.?.’
‘Mia!’ I sit back. I can’t really protest too much, though, as I did kind of start this by telling her I wanted a date.
‘There’s no direct contact between members. All correspondence goes through the administrators. You don’t get the person’s surname, phone number, nothing. It’s attracting really sound people by all accounts. She was inspired by the Barbra Streisand filmThe Mirror Has Two Faces.’
‘I’ve never seen it,’ I say, catching the eye of the server, lifting my finger.
‘Well, watch it.’ Mia orders her dessert and an iced hazelnut latte, puts her glass down and rummages in her bag. ‘It’s all about the “emotional intelligence of connection”, not the “physical”.’ Again, she uses her fingers as quotation marks.
I nod.
‘So you can scroll away and find a party date on there?’
‘Definitely.’ I watch her as she pops two painkillers out of a packet and plonks them in her water. ‘By the way, Señorita, did you get that spicy margarita from Polish Marek with the multiple piercings last night after we spoke?’
‘Thanks, I did and he’s just the funniest guy. God, Grace, I haven’t laughed so much in years. My stomach actually ached.He likes me, I know he does, and I like him .?.?. he’s incredibly smart, but I’m just not ready for anything serious. He said he’ll give me all the time I want.’ Her face is flushed.
‘Was it a late one?’ I nod at the painkillers. ‘Have you a hangover?’ Mia’s life as a freelancer for various publications sees her get offers for after-parties all the time, which she never used to take up, because Michael was always waiting up for her at home, but is maybe starting to take advantage of now.
‘A bit. I’m so not used to partying after work. We left the cocktail bar and went to a cute Italian off Parliament Street, shared a pepperoni pizza and a pitcher of beer. Marek was full of compliments about me.’ Mia shrugged. ‘You know, I don’t recall the last time Michael ever told me I looked great. Anyway, there was a jazz singer on the piano – oh, Grace, she was exceptional. I felt like I was an extra inLa La Land, like more alive than I’ve done in years .?.?. But also a bit guilty about Michael. I met his mum in Lidl yesterday.’ Slowly, she raises her big brown eyes up to me then she downs the fizzing medicine and sits back as her churros and iced latte arrive in front of her. ‘Thank you so much.’ The server leaves.
