It's Got to Be Perfect: the memoirs of a modern-day matchmaker (29 page)

‘This really isn’t working for me,’ he said.

I sighed, disappointed there had been no epiphany on his part. ‘No problem. I’ll arrange a full refund.’

‘You’re not supposed to agree.’ His dark blonde eyebrows knitted together. ‘You’re supposed to fix it.’

‘Fix what? You don’t seem to require anything to be fixed.’

‘I want to meet someone.’

I laughed. ‘For what purpose?’

‘To get married and have kids. What else?’

‘Do you really think you’re going to find that in a bikini on a yacht?’

He laughed. ‘I don’t wear bikinis. Maybe that’s where I’m going wrong.’

‘You know what I mean.’ My mind forged a disturbing image of a string bikini bottom superimposed onto the self-portrait of his genitals. ‘The way you act, the way you look, most women, well the decent ones anyway, wouldn’t consider you for a serious relationship.’

He leaned forward.

‘And why does your future wife have to have perfect tits? They won’t stay that way forever, you know. In a few years, they might be swinging around her ankles like a basset hound’s ears. What would you do then?’

‘Surgery?’

I sighed and then went to stand up.

‘Look, I like big tits. It doesn’t mean I’m a bad person.’

‘I’m sure that’s true.’ I paused.

He leaned forward further. ‘But?’

‘You have to look and act like a good husband before you’re allowed the chance to be one.’

He sat back. ‘But if she’s the right girl, she’ll love me for who I am.’

Mia approached, obviously in earshot and rolled her eyes. For a moment, I was almost tempted to do the same.

‘There’s someone who wants to speak to Ellie,’ she said, pulling me up from the chair by my arm.

Mr Marbella jumped to his feet, swiped a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, and then sauntered off into the crowd.

‘We’ll talk later,’ I shouted after him, but my words seemed to bounce back like a failed SMS.

I turned back to Mia, but she was gone. In her place was a tall, dark-haired man with striking turquoise eyes and a soft smile. He was wearing a white fitted shirt tucked into suit trousers.

‘David,’ he said, holding out his hand for me to shake. ‘I popped by to give you a copy of all the paperwork.’

I smiled, thankful for his help, though mildly baffled as to why he chose a singles’ party rather than an office for a formal exchange of legal documents. Once he had handed me the papers, he stood staring as though he were expecting me to say something.

‘So why haven’t you called Kerri?’ I asked, assuming this to be the question he was anticipating.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I should’ve called her.’

‘Well, why didn’t you?’ I noticed I was wagging my finger at him, so I quickly put my hands by my side.

He smirked. ‘I…’

‘Yes?’

‘I feel like I’m in the stand.’

‘Where you are legally obliged to answer.’

He laughed.

‘So?’

He scratched his nose. ‘You didn’t tell me she was so attractive.’

‘That’s good though, isn’t it?’

‘Well, for most men, I suppose.’

‘But not you?’

‘No, not me, I’m afraid.’

‘Why not?’

His faced creased. ‘When we spoke on the phone, we really clicked. I felt as though I could tell her anything …’ He paused ‘… but then in person, she looked nothing like I’d imagined she would.’

‘Which was?’

He puffed out his cheeks. ‘I don’t know, I expected her to be more girl next door than Baywatch babe, I suppose.’

‘Baywatch?’ I asked, wondering why his benchmark image for a large-breasted woman was nearly twenty years out of date.

I then imagined Kerri arriving for the date, wearing a late-Eighties red swimsuit and carrying a float.

He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Every man was gawping at her and then looking at me as though they were trying to figure out how I did it.’

‘Are you sure you weren’t just being paranoid?’

‘No. One man actually followed me to the toilets and asked me how I did it.’

I raised my eyebrows.

‘Next to me in the urinal, he looked up and said: “Well it had to be one of two things, so from the look of it, you must be rich”.’

I stifled a laugh. ‘What did you say to that?’

‘I just walked out. But when I got back to the table, there was another man trying to chat her up. And another one sent champagne over while I was sitting there. It was absurd.’

Just as I was beginning to see his point, an attractive woman started bobbing up and down behind him, seemingly trying to get my attention. It wasn’t until I noticed her dove-grey eyes that I realised who she was. I did a double-take.

‘Joanna?’ I asked.

She smiled and then bounced towards me. David stepped sideways. Her hunched apologetic shoulders had lifted and it seemed that finally the body mix-up had been resolved. Now in receipt of her intended slim, toned figure, she was modelling tight white trousers and a white off-the-shoulder mesh top. Her hair, now a rich brown with honey blonde highlights, hung heavy and shiny around her shoulders. For a few moments, I stood staring at her.

‘Come on, I wasn’t that bad before was I?’ she said, before winking at David.

I forced a smile, feeling oddly disappointed. ‘No, of course not.’

She cocked her head. ‘But?’

‘You said all that gloss wasn’t you?’

She laughed, revealing an intricately engineered Hollywood smile. ‘I’m still the same person underneath.’

I noticed David visibly processing her words, a puzzled expression creeping across his face.

I turned to him. ‘Out of interest, what did Kerri wear on your date?’

His puzzlement faded in an instant. ‘Red dress. Short and tight. Very tight.’ He seemed to drift into another state of consciousness as he recalled the image.

Short and tight,
I thought as I watched him walk back into the crowd, swiftly followed by Joanna.
That’s not exactly what Kerri and I agreed.

Feeling the effects of the champagne I had guzzled in honour of Joanna’s transformation, I stepped back to a quiet corner of the roof terrace and watched as couples began the familiar fumbled first stages of contact.

Was Mia right?
I wondered. Were they all just lining up for the slaughterhouse like cattle? Couldn’t they see they were destined for as much pain and anguish as they were love and happiness?

‘
You’re looking a bit thoughtful,’ Mandi said, after she’d tottered over to join me. ‘Are you having one of your philosophical moments again?’

I smiled. ‘It was just something Mia said about happiness and pain being dished out in equal measures.’

Her smile faded. ‘As much as I hate to say it, I think she might be right.’

‘So you’ve really lost faith?’

She shook her head. ‘I’ll never lose faith in love,’ she said, looking down and slipping her foot in and out of its sparkly shoe. ‘It’s just hard to accept that it’s not as perfect as I thought it would be.’

I exhaled a laugh. ‘Disappointing, isn’t it?’

Tears began to slide down her cheeks, glistening like Swarovski crystals.

‘Devastating, more like.’

I leaned in and wiped them from her face. ‘Shall we play guess who?’

Predicting who would leave the party with who was Mandi’s favourite game and she followed my forecast like a trader follows the FTSE.

She smiled.

‘Right,’ I said, scanning the terrace. ‘Those girls there …’ I pointed to a group of svelte, bronzed blondes in their midtwenties all wearing micro-minis, ‘… with the legs.’

‘Yes,’ she nodded.

‘They’ll end up with the traders lined up at the bar.’

‘How do you know they’re traders?’

‘I just do. Then see the two entrepreneurs over there?’ I pointed at two men standing by the door to the kitchens. ‘They’ll end up with the two girls over there. They work in TV production.’

Mandi frowned. ‘How do you know that?’

‘I just do.’

‘But how?’

‘And that guy over there.’ I pointed at a tall Greek-god-like figure in white linen, his shirt unbuttoned to reveal a sculpted and waxed chest.

She nodded. ‘Yeah, the fantasy man, every woman wants to walk hand-in-hand with across a white sandy beach.’

I giggled.

‘Where he would pull her to his rippling torso, kissing her roughly while the waves crash violently against the shore,’ Mandi continued, almost reverting to her previous, starry-eyed self.

I laughed. ‘His large manly hands tearing at her bodice, freeing her heaving bosom, while his member throbs against the soft flesh of her inner thigh.’

She giggled. ‘His tongue probing purposefully, savouring her scent, the curves of her flesh, the taste of her juices.’

‘The he fills her, thrusting with the vigor of a thoroughbred stallion.’

‘Until their bodies stiffen, giving way to a tidal wave of a simultaneous orgasm.’

‘Then they collapse into each other, exhausted and spent, limbs and souls entwined.’

We laughed.

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Whose heaving bosom does his throbbing member end up with tonight?’

‘No one’s,’ I said. ‘He’s a perfectionist and he’ll be followed around all night by women he’s not interested in. The girl he likes and there is only one… her …’ I pointed to a long-limbed, fresh-faced model type. ‘She will be locked in by an alpha male who won’t let Mr Mills and Boon anywhere near her.’

Sure enough, as I spoke, the girl was being virtually pinned against the wall by one of the traders.

Mandi smirked. ‘And what about her?’ she asked, pointing at a pretty brunette.

I looked on, trying to identify the woman. ‘Oh yes, Joanna.’ I almost failed to recognise her again. ‘She’ll probably be following Mr Mills and Boon around all night, when she should be talking to a more …’ I leaned forward, squinting. ‘Who is that?’

‘That’s Greg, he’s a chiropractor. Such a lovely guy. They seem to be getting on, don’t they?’

We watched as Joanna flicked her hair and stuck out her chest.

‘I tried to match them years ago. But she was having none of it.’

Mandi giggled. ‘Good to know you don’t always get it right.’

‘What, the matching or the –’

‘All of it,’ she said and then walked away, glittering and shimmering as only Mandi could. But something else caught my eye. Something was shimmering a lot more than the rest of her. I peered closer. It was her left hand. A ring.

‘Mandi,’ I called after her, but my voice was lost in the buzz of the party. I stepped forward to follow her, but inadvertently collided with a girl who was walking at speed.

‘Look where you are going, will you?’ a voice said with familiar disdain as its owner swept past towards the toilet door.

‘Victoria?’ I asked after I’d recognised her perfect contours in a backless white jumpsuit.

She span around. ‘Oh gosh, Sorry Ellie. I didn’t realise it was you.’

She looked me up and down, clearly unimpressed with my fifth-hand eBay purchase. ‘Is the zip-up look coming back already?’

I forced a laugh. ‘It’s white and it’s a dress. Anyway, why are you in such a rush?’

‘Some imbecile thought chocolate hearts would be a good idea at a White Party,’ she said, turning around and pointing at her bottom. ‘I only sat down for a second. And now it looks like I’m incontinent.’

I tried not to smile.

‘And it’s not just me. One of your Barbie brigade has sat on one too.’

I frowned, wondering if this was this Mia’s parting shot: a strategically placed chocolate heart on the seats of those who had offended her. As the host and therefore enabler of crime, I knew it was up to me to check the posterior of all those who could be on Mia’s hit list, so I left Victoria to sponge her bottom in the Ladies and began to move stealthily around the party.

After receiving several protests, a few propositions and some alarmed looks, and aside from what appeared to be one genuine incontinence problem, I found most bottoms to be clear. However, I had yet to assess Mandi or her underlings. Once I had located Mandi, in full matchmaking mode between Mr Marbella and one of the micro-minis, I crept around behind her. Just as I was about to zoom in on her sacrum, my mission was thwarted by a tug on my arm.

‘What on earth are you doing?’

The hairs on the back of my neck pricked up. I turned around to face a man decked out in a white tuxedo and grinning widely. It was Robert.

‘You again?’

His grin widened further.

‘You’re always creeping up on me.’

‘Always? I’m
always
creeping up on you?’

‘Well the last two times, yes. And since there have only been two times in the past five years, then I think that constitutes always.’

‘Okay, I’ll approach from the front next time.’

‘That is the socially accepted method,’ I replied. ‘If I were a feral animal you would have received a nasty bite.’

‘Or a pan of brussel sprouts,’ he said with a smirk. ‘Though, it appears that, you too prefer the approach-from-behind method. I’ve been watching you look at people’s bottoms for the past half-hour. What’s that all about? Is it a new matching strategy?’

‘Long story,’ I said with a flick of my wrist. ‘Anyway, what are you doing here?’

He stepped towards me, taking my hands in his. ‘I’m single and I want to meet a beautiful girl …’ He looked me up and down, frowned a little and then gazed into my eyes ‘… who is wearing a white dress.’

I brushed him off. ‘Well off you go then. There are hundreds here.’

He leaned back towards me, zooming in on my chest. ‘Did I mention my preference for a retro zipped cleavage feature?’

‘Go,’ I said, waving him away. ‘But watch out for the chocolate hearts.’

He glanced back over his shoulder, still grinning. ‘Is that supposed to mean something?’

I waved him away again. ‘It’s not a riddle. They look like poo if you sit on them.’

A determined recruit, who I think was Minky, must have noticed Robert was alone, so grabbed his hand and swept him away. Seconds later, he turned back to point at her bottom, which was exhibiting a substantial chocolate smudge. I quickly relocated Mandi, keen to resume the investigation.