Swipe Right

When John's latest dating disaster sends him spiraling, his flatmate Gary takes matters into his own hands, creating an embellished online profile that transforms a warehouse manager into a session musician at Abbey Road. The plan works brilliantly until John meets Amanda, a stunning doctor who seems perfect. In this charming tale of modern romance, two people discover that finding love might just require being honest about who you really are.

Transcript

Swipe Right

A short story by Jeff Price

Friday Night. The apartment of John and Gary

John opened the door and slumped over to the fridge, grabbing a can of beer. His flatmate Gary looked up from the sofa and gave him a quizzical look. "You're back early. How did the date go?"

"A catastrophe," John replied, flopping into a chair. "She stopped eating and looked at me and said she wasn't feeling it, got up and walked out."

"Brutal," Gary said.

"I know. I felt like a right idiot. Everyone was looking at me. I paid the bill and left."

John slumped down onto the sofa beside Gary. "Am I a complete fool? I've been on this dating app for three months now. I've only had four dates, none of which has gone to a second. You don't seem to have any problem getting dates."

Gary shrugged. "On the gay scene, dates are easy; boyfriends you can trust are not so easy to find. Don't change the subject."

"Maybe it’s your profile on Tinder, let me have a look." John reluctantly handed over his phone. "Here."

Gary scrolled through it, shaking his head. "Man, I see your problem. This is not good, not good at all. You start with the fact you're a warehouse manager and it gets worse after that. The profile photo makes you look like your mother dressed you. Hobbies: it says 'none.'"

"I couldn't think of anything," John protested. "Watching telly and drinking beer was all I could come up with."

"To be fair, that's pretty spot on," Gary said with a grin. "Wait a minute, you read a lot and you used to play guitar. You didn't mention them?"

John shook his head. "I read crime novels and I haven't played since uni, and that was six years ago. Plus I'm a bass player, that's worse than saying you're into Morris dancing. No one likes bass players, not even bass players."

Gary stood up decisively. "Just do as I say and I promise we can get the date of your dreams. First, clothes. It's Saturday tomorrow. Let’s go into town and get some new clothes. You'll need a decent haircut as well. I'll come with you."

Saturday Night

The door opened and John staggered in, loaded with bags. Gary trailed behind with more bags.

Gary dropped his bags and smiled. "Time for photos. Go and put on the Levi's, that Sam Fender t-shirt, and the North Face jacket."

Ten minutes later, John came back into the living room.

"Wow." Gary jumped up from the sofa and nearly knocked his can of beer over. "The ladies are gonna love this."

Gary took his iPhone out. "Stand over there by the wall near the window. Now face the window." Gary checked his phone. "OK, now turn towards me and smile."

Click.

"Again, but try not to grimace this time. Relax." After a few more attempts, Gary nodded with satisfaction. 

Click

"Got it. Grab a couple more beers and get your phone. Let's work on the profile."

John opened the Tinder app and handed it to Gary, who read through the profile again.

"Look John, I gotta say this," Gary said, settling back on the sofa. "You're not a Tinder sort of guy. The women here aren't looking for boyfriends, they want to have a bit of fun, and this profile does not say 'fun guy.' You're more of a Guardian Soulmates person."

“Let’s check out the Guardian Gary opened John's laptop and stared at the screen. "Pin number, please?"

"1234," John replied.

"I should have guessed that," Gary muttered, typing it in. "OK, let's start on the Guardian Soulmates profile. Job: Professional musician."

"But I'm not," John protested. "I'm a warehouse manager."

Gary waved his hand dismissively. "Everyone knows these profiles are bollocks. You just have to play the game."

"Then what's the point?"

"Trust me, Next education: Fine art and music degree at St. Martin's."

"I did my degree in urban planning at Leicester."

"It's music and fine art."

"What if she asks awkward questions?"

"The trick is not to let her ask too many questions," Gary explained. "Ask her questions. Get her to tell you her life story. Look interested. If she asks an awkward question, compliment her on something. She's a Guardian reader like you. Talk about the writers you like. Ask her who she reads first, and then say that's the one you go for as well. Let's find the best of the photos from before and go live with this."

John hesitated. "I'm not sure about this. What if I get caught out lying?"

"Look, John," Gary said seriously, "you've been out for a duck every time. It can't get any worse. Trust me."

"I don't think we should do this," John said.

"Too late." Gary grinned and hit enter. "I pressed GO LIVE. Your profile is up."

Sunday Morning

"Good morning, sunshine," Gary said, a grin as wide as the Tyne on his face.

John shuffled to the kitchen counter and pushed a coffee mug under the Nespresso machine. "What's good about it?"

"Well, have you looked at your laptop this morning? Because I have," Gary said, clearly pleased with himself.

John turned around, mug in hand. "Why are you looking at my laptop?"

"To see how the new profile was working, and you've had three replies. All of them are gorgeous."

"Check it out and you will not be disappointed," Gary continued. "I'm your friend. I just want to help. You helped me when I came out of the army and I was all over the place. My turn to help you. Anyway, I know you. You would have messed about for days before replying."

John sat down at the kitchen table and peered at the laptop. "Dr. Amanda Scott, twenty-eight, junior doctor at Great Ormond Street Hospital for sick children. Hobbies: painting and camping. Amuse-bouche: Has been to Glastonbury every year since she was sixteen. Lives in Crouch End."

John looked up at Gary in amazement. "Wow, she looks and sounds amazing. Where should we go?"

"I would book a table at Mélange on Elder Avenue. It's that French eatery. Trendy but not too hipster." Gary looks at his phone. "Shall I book for Wednesday at 7:30? OK? You'll fit in well there."

"Go for it."

Wednesday Night 11:00 PM 

Gary pressed the off button on the TV remote as John walked in. "Well, how did it go? Tell all."

John slumped into his chair. "Well, good and bad."

"How come?" Gary asked, turning to face him.

"We got on great," John began. "The place was amazing. The food was fantastic and we never stopped talking all night. She is fabulous—kind and caring, everything. I thought she'd be posh being a doctor and that, but she was really down to earth."

"So why good and bad?" Gary prompted.

John ran his hands through his hair. "She knew everything about music, and when I said I played bass, she wanted to know in which band. I knew it wouldn't work just to make one up, so I said I was between bands but doing session work. She asked me where, and the only recording studio I know in London is Abbey Road. I said that. Then she wanted to know who I had worked with, but I managed to switch the subject like you said."

"Great, you did well, mate," Gary said encouragingly. "Is she up for a second date?"

"I haven't finished with the bad," John said grimly.

"Oh." Gary's face fell.

"I remembered in her profile she goes to Glastonbury, and I did in 2022. I was wearing my Sam Fender t-shirt, and I pointed to it. She gasped and said how he was her favorite and did I talk to him. I just got carried away and made up loads of stuff about the after-party behind the Pyramid Stage and how he's really down to earth. I made out we were pals and promised I'd get his autograph for her. Then she said he's playing the O2 but she couldn't get tickets, and I said I'd get VIP passes for us."

Gary winced. "That was really dumb."

"I know," John said miserably. "As I heard myself say it, I was screaming in my head 'SHUT UP, SHUT UP,' but my mouth wasn't listening."

Gary leaned forward. "Look, I've been to hell and back in the Army; this is bad but not a disaster, believe me, I know disasters. Just say he didn't get back to you, busy or something. Did you fix up a second date?"

"We are going to see a movie," John replied. "The Bob Dylan biopic. A Complete Unknown."

"Good choice, keep the chat to a minimum," Gary nodded approvingly. "Was there a snog after the first date?"

John shook his head. "No, just a peck on the cheek."

"Well here's your chance," Gary said with a grin.

Saturday Night. 11:00 pm

Gary was watching Match of the Day when the door opened and John and a young woman entered.

John gestured between them. "Amanda, sorry, Dr. Amanda, this is my flatmate Gary. Gary, meet Amanda."

Gary jumped up from the couch. "Hi Amanda, how was the movie?"

Amanda smiled. "We left halfway through, and went for a drink or three."

John grinned. "More like four or five."

Gary stretched and yawned theatrically. "Well I'm bushed, I think I'll get an early night. I'll leave you two to enjoy Match of the Day." He winked at John. "Good night."

Sunday Morning

John appeared in the kitchen as Gary was making himself a coffee. "Where's Amanda?"

"She left last night about 12:30," John explained, looking pleased. "She has work today and anyway I don't want to rush things. We did have a bit of a fumble on the couch but that's all. It was a brilliant night but I'm worried that I'm out of my depth. She's not only a doctor in a hospital, she volunteered for Médecins Sans Frontières and told me she did trauma surgery at field hospitals in Afghanistan. You've been there, you know what it's like."

Gary's expression grew serious. "Yes, and I'd prefer to forget it. Field hospital she said? That's odd; you don't normally see civilians in field hospitals, it's usually only Army medics."

John nodded. "Yeah, pretty sure that was it. Anyway, I can never get Sam Fender tickets, never mind VIP passes. I told her I tried to get in touch but he hasn't got back to me and she seemed a bit disappointed but added maybe the next time I'm at Abbey Road, she could come and have a look around. I managed to put her off but I told you I'm no good at lying."

Gary studied his friend's worried face. "Look, she likes you. If the lies are causing you problems then just tell her the truth."

"She'll dump me," John said flatly.

"Maybe, maybe not. Trust me," Gary said. "When are you seeing her again?"

"I've not fixed up anything but she gave me her mobile number. What'll I do?" John asked desperately.

Gary thought for a moment. "It's quiz night at the Fox on Monday. Invite her to that and find a chance to tell her the truth. I have a funny feeling this will all work out OK."

Monday Night in the beer garden of the Fox

Amanda rubbed her arms against the cold. "You're good at this, John. We did brilliantly in the first half. I think we're second."

She looked at John suspiciously. "John, why are we out here? Neither of us smoke and it's bloody freezing. Are you dumping me?"

"God no. It's just..." John began nervously.

Amanda interrupted him. "Before you say anything I need to tell you something."

"You're married? Have kids?" John asked, panic creeping into his voice.

"No, none of that. It's just..." Amanda started.

"Stop, Amanda, me first," John said firmly. He took a deep breath. "I'm not a musician. I mean I play bass, or I did play bass at uni, but I'm not a session musician. I've never met Sam Fender, I can't get tickets for the O2. Sorry, I'm a warehouse manager."

Amanda laughed. "What's wrong with being a warehouse manager?"

"Nothing really, but it's not very exciting. I don't know why I said it. It was stupid and now I'm afraid you'll dump me but I really, really like you but I don't like lying. Gary said it was what they all do on the apps and I just got carried away. Please forgive me."

Amanda reached out and took John's hand. "You're not the only one who's been economical with the truth. I'm not a doctor, I’m a nurse, and I couldn't even point to Afghanistan on a map. I heard the doctors talking about going there with Médecins Sans Frontières and I got carried away."

John took Amanda's face in his hands and gently kissed her.

"I really like you too," Amanda said as they walked back into the pub and she took his hand.

"Meet me at Mélange at 7:30 Wednesday night and let's just start again," John said softly. "A warehouse manager and a nurse just looking for love."

Amanda smiled. "It's a date." She kissed him back.

Wednesday Night the bar of the Mélange Restaurant 

"Hi John, sorry I'm late. I was supposed to finish at 4:00 but it dragged on," Amanda said, slightly out of breath.

"No problem, I'm just having a beer. What can I get you?" John replied, standing up to greet her.

"A G&T please."

"It's been a G&T sort of shift has it?"

"Yes, it has." She laughed. "You're funny. I like that."

"Sorry about all the Sam Fender stuff. Can I ask you something?"

Amanda nodded. "Go ahead."

"Why a doctor? You're a nurse—that's a brilliant job. Everyone loves nurses, especially after Covid. You're heroes."

"Simple really. When I went on the app, I got a lot of swipes and went out with a few guys, but I soon discovered that 'nurse' didn't mean bedpans to them. Can I just say they had expectations I wasn't interested in."

"All of them?" John asked.

"Pretty much," Amanda replied, taking a sip of her drink.

"But the doctor thing?"

"I noticed in the hospital men were always being flirty with the nurses but never the female doctors—they treated them differently. Showed more respect. I thought if I said I was a doctor, I'd put off the grope-and-run guys, and it did work." She paused. "I suppose I was looking for someone who'd respect me regardless, and you do."

"Wow, do I get a certificate or a medal or something?" John grinned.

Amanda laughed, leaned over and kissed him. "There, that should do. Can we get our table now? I'm starving. I've had nothing but a cereal bar since six this morning."

After the starters and a few comments about the food, Amanda looked over at John. "Your turn. What's wrong with being a warehouse manager?"

"Nothing really. Gary, my flatmate, said it was boring. I like my job. I fell into it by accident. I came out of uni with a degree in urban planning but I was struggling to find a job, so I got a job as a warehouseman as a stopgap. I quickly rose through the ranks and my planning skills actually came in handy. I now run the warehouse and my systems are being adopted in the other depots."

"What's in it?" Amanda asked.

"In what?"

"In the warehouse."

"Oh yes, sand for the building trade. Do you know, no one has ever asked me that question before? When I tell people I'm a warehouse manager they just smile and change the subject. Even my flatmate has never asked me that."

"Sand!"

"There are five main types and it comes in lots of variations. I could bore the pants off you for the next three hours with how complex it is, but I'll spare you because I like you."

Amanda smiled. "Thank you, and I like you too."

Wednesday Night 11:00 pm at the Apartment

"Well that went better than I thought," John said as they settled in with their beers.

"I knew it would work out," Gary replied happily. "She's a great woman and perfect for you. It was meant to be."

John gave him a knowing look. "How did you know it would work out? You're hiding something."

"I thought she might be lying," Gary admitted. "She said she had been in a field hospital with MSF. That wouldn't happen. I was there in Helmand. MSF were only at the hospital in Lashkar Gah. I then did some checking; there is a list of doctors at Great Ormond Street and she wasn't on it."

John stared at him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Gary shrugged. "Best you sorted it yourself. I think I'd interfered enough. I know I shouldn't have spied on you but we're mates and I've got your back. Sorry. Anyway, it all worked out for the best."

John raised his beer. "You're forgiven. OK, Gary, maybe now it's your turn. Let's get you on Soulmates as well and see if we can find you a keeper."

Gary clinked his bottle against John's. "It's a deal."