It's Got to Be Perfect: the memoirs of a modern-day matchmaker by Haley Hill Page B

into a gibbering wreck. Since my shambles of an engagement, you meant to say?’
    ‘No. Since your lucky escape from that twat. That’s what I meant to say. You know it wasn’t your fault.’
    ‘Look, I really don’t want to talk about it again. It’s in the past.’
    ‘You never want to talk about it. And it’s not in the past if it’s stopping you from meeting someone new.’
    ‘I’m fine. I just want to focus on–’
    ‘Whatever!’ she rolled her eyes. ‘Great strategy. You’ll never get hurt again if you never have a relationship again. Brilliant idea!’ She folded her arms and looked away from me.
    ‘Okay, that’s enough ladies!’ Caro interrupted. ‘You can have one of my pilots if you like?’ She turned to me with a silly grin.
    ‘I’d make sure she washed the milkmaid outfit before borrowing that though.’ Cordelia said unfolding her arms and offering me an olive-branch smile.
    I leant forward and put my arms around them both. ‘Stop worrying about me. I’m fine.’
    Initiating a drunken group hug was a bit of a challenge in the back of a fast-moving taxi, especially as the driver took a sharp corner into my road at our most vulnerable moment. Caro went flying, bottom over boobs and onto the taxi floor, Cordelia managed to retain her composure for a few seconds and grabbed my arm to steady me, but as the driver slammed on the breaks outside my flat, it was too late. I knew I was going down and that she was coming with me. Flying out of our seats, I landed across Caro, my face cushioned by her inbuilt airbags, but Cordelia continued to slide around the taxi before finally settling between Caro’s legs, her mouth open against black satin knickers and her hands gripping Caro’s lace-topped stockings. It was like a particularly creative scene from “Girls Gone Wild”.
    The taxi driver did a double-take in the rear-view mirror.
    ‘All right ladies?’ he said, turning around and looking a little alarmed, but clearly refusing to acknowledge any responsibility in the matter.
    ‘Yes, we’re fine, thank you,’ Cordelia replied, her recovery thwarted by the penguin ensemble.
    When we were vertical again and safely out on the street, I leaned in to pay the driver. He looked at me, his eyebrows knitted together, with an unsettling intensity in his eyes.
    ‘You’re a nice-looking girl,’ he said, patting me on the shoulder. ‘You’ll find a man, don’t worry.’
    I rolled my eyes and Caro slammed the door.
    ‘There goes your tip,’ Cordelia said before leading me back to my flat.
    Lying in bed that night, wedged uncomfortably between a fidgeting Cordelia and a snoring Caro, I realised how much the dating game had changed. Before I met Robert, I’d never had to look for a man. They’d always seemed in plentiful supply and ever eager for a date. However, from my observations that night, it seemed that now, the men had all the power. And it appeared it was us women who had handed it to them. With a cherry on top.
    I wondered if Matthew was right. Had men been socially conditioned by the recent wave of engineered sex bombs sporting glued on hair, mutilated boobs and creosoted legs so that a normal girl didn’t stand a chance anymore?
    One who wasn’t prepared to strut around with her bottom in the air, proclaiming a love of anal and threesomes.
    My temples throbbed at the injustice of it all. As I pulled the pillow over my head to drown out Caro’s snores, I remembered the brunette trotting after Nick, her ridiculously short skirt riding up over her bottom. I felt a rage burning inside. It was as though my blood had been on a low simmer but tonight the heat had been ramped up a notch.

Chapter Eight
    He slammed his business card on the table ‘This is me. Google me. Now can we talk about what I’m looking for?’
    ‘Er, hang on,’ I interrupted, picking up his card. ‘Richard Rodney Stud. Consultant gynaecologist.’
    I looked up to see him shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
    ‘Is