“The best of them all should…”
No, it’s already crap.
“Blowing out the smog of…”
Probably best to avoid blow imagery for a dating site.
“Because…”
Well, I don’t actually work at Mirror Mirror so I don’t need to come up with a tagline, but if I did and I was going to it would be better than theirs.
My profile picture pops up to greet me. It’s a little glass slipper, a cheap imitation of the Disney version, probably because of copyright issues.
Everyone’s profile picture begins like that—an anonymous fairy-tale character or item and their name. That’s all you see for a while actually. It supposedly matches you using some black box algorithm based on a set of questions you signed up with, but I think we all know that’s code for “complete randomizer.” It pairs you up with three at a time and the more you chat, the more you see of the other’s profile. For every message you write them a little more of your actual profile picture gets uncovered until, about a hundred or so texts in, you can pretty much see their whole face.
I like that. You put more time into getting to know someone. People can’t make quick-fire decisions—unless you’re Charles Wolf, that is. He seemed pretty unfazed that we hadn’t chatted long enough to even see an outline of a profile picture.
Maybe if I’d seen his hairy, hairy face before we’d met I might have canceled on him instead.
Who am I kidding? I wouldn’t have dared.
Charles Wolf must have already deleted me, for where his Gaston look-alike picture used to be a new match has already been added. I try not to feel the “ouch” in my stomach as I click on this new profile instead.
The picture is a bit bizarre. Most of the guys pick the dragons or the princes—a few of the more comedy-oriented ones pick the fish or lobsters—but this one is a little old goblin. I try to work out who it is but I don’t really recognize it from anywhere.
Name: Mystery Man
I raise an eyebrow, then realize that there is no one to witness my raised eyebrow so I quickly drop it back to its usual position.
Mystery Man. That’s all I’m getting?
I need a few more texts to even unveil his occupation. Is it even worth it for this? An old goblin profile picture and a name of “Mystery Man.”
Oh, why not.
I begin typing.
Bella Marble
Well aren’t you mysterious
I pride myself on never opening with the usual noncommittal “hey” as I never really know where you go from there.
Mystery Man
Life’s too short to be boring
An immediate reply. Keen. Maybe he was even just about to text me first?
Bella Marble
You going to tell me your real name mystery man?
I cringe at my own words. I hate that I can’t delete things once I send them. It’s like watching a replay of a car crash in real time.
Mystery Man
That would be too easy
Bella Marble
I bet it’s something boring like Paul or Mark
I smile at my own internal joke. Mark, boring. Well, that would be flattering to him.
Mystery Man
I’ll tell you what, if you guess it I’ll take you on the best date you’ve ever been on
A game? That’s upped the stakes a little bit. Usually I’m lucky to get a “hey” back. At least this is something, albeit just a little creepy.
Bella Marble
What kind of date are we talking here?
Bella Marble
I need to know it’s worth the effort
Mystery Man
You a Party Girl? Obr like a bit of Culture?
Bella Marble
Culture
Bella Marble
Every time
I sit back and I smile. He doesn’t immediately text back and my smile slightly fades. Oh dear, have I blown it already? How?
Was it a trick question?
Oh, I made myself sound so uncool, didn’t I? Who picks culture? Seriously.
Mystery Man
After-hours tour of the History Museum. Drinks and Dinosaurs. The winning combo
I’m not being funny but that actually sounds amazing. I’m a big nerd at heart and I love museums. When I first moved to London I remember thinking I’d probably go all the time, but life happens and that somehow didn’t.
Bella Marble
How many guesses do I get?
Mystery Man
As many as you want
I check his profile to see how much more has been revealed based on our little chat already.
Name: Mystery Man
Occupation: Entrepreneur
Height: It doesn’t matter
Age: Is just a number
Well, that’s not helpful.
Bella Marble
George?
Mystery Man
Nope
Bella Marble
Michael?
Mystery Man
Guess again
Bella Marble
Nigel?
Mystery Man
I’m not an 80-year-old man
Bella Marble
I thought you said age is just a number?
My phone vibrates and it shocks me, pulling me out of my Mirror Mirror tangent. It’s a text, Marty. So he is awake.
26 Sep 10:17-Me
You coming tonight?
Marty-26 Sep 10:36
Jack’s birthday. I’m out
26 Sep 10:36-Me
But it’s Ellie’s last night!
Marty-26 Sep 10:36
Is she dying?
26 Sep 10:37-Me
If she was would you come out tonight?
Marty-26 Sep 10:37
No. Still Jack’s birthday
26 Sep 10:38-Me
You’re a terrible brother
Marty-26 Sep 10:38
If she dies I inherit more. Win-win
Marty’s usually a frequent flyer around 13 Elmfield Road. Despite being twins, their differences are pretty substantial. Ellie’s a home-bird, Marty likes to stay out. Ellie’s a monogamist, Marty sticks to a daily one-in, one-out policy. Ellie worries, Marty doesn’t care. Ellie is lovely, Marty’s a self-proclaimed arsehole.
In reality they’re not as different as they like to think. Family always comes first with that clan, at least that’s been the case ever since their idiotic father left them to pursue his dreams of living like an eighteen-year-old, ignoring his paternal duties, and backpacking the world with literal eighteen-year-old girls at his side. I’d say that’s why the rest of the family is so close, but those three were always a unit even before Stuart Mathews’s twatty adventure began.
26 Sep 10:38-Me
Whatever. I’m on pudding duty
You’ll miss out on my beautiful homemade pie
Marty-26 Sep 10:38
Like fuck are you cooking a pie
It’s a good point. What am I going to do?
26 Sep 10:38-Me
Fine. You’ll miss out on my beautiful store-bought ice cream
That reminds me. I quickly flick my texts over to Annie.
26 Sep 10:38-Me
Hey, can you pick up some ice cream on your way home from the gym? x