CHRISTINA SAT WITH HER FEET ON THE TABLE IN THE VIP lounge with a large notepad in front of her. Her nails were freshly painted and she had just been to the hairdresser’s and had had her hair done. And in addition she had allowed herself the luxury of buying a lovely pantsuit in red with a matching blouse, an outfit that she thought would fit in well in the Jungle—which is what Rake had named the interior of the barge. Now her friends had spread themselves out on the soft plush sofas with notepads in their hands. The last few weeks’ local newspapers lay on the table. They were all poring over the personal ads in deep concentration. The League of Pensioners wanted to get a picture of single people who wished to enrich their lives with a partner, anything to help them to create a speed-dating system of the highest class. Rake opened the Östermalm News, the local paper in the poshest district of central Stockholm, and read out aloud in his Gothenburg dialect:
“Here is a ‘solid, super guy looking for a plump woman, though not obligatory, aged fifty-five to eighty.’” He nodded toward Martha. “There, you see! No need for gymnastics! ‘Solid, super guy,’ how about that!”
“But that’s what he’s written about himself, isn’t that obvious?” protested Martha.
Brains grinned, scratched his beard (which was terribly itchy) and looked at Rake with approval.
“Then listen to this,” Brains said in a rebellious tone, and he thumbed his way to the personal ads in the local paper from the southern part of the city. He held up the paper and read in a loud and affected voice:
“‘Hello, out there in Stockholm. Is there a plump woman aged fifty-five to eighty who wants a solid, super guy for intimacy, tenderness, coziness etc . . .’” Brains turned toward Martha with a triumphant look on his face. “‘Plump woman.’ Ha ha. No more gymnastics. What did I say? Take it easy. Meditate!”
“Solid, super guy, but for heaven’s sake that must be the same person, can’t you see!” sighed Anna-Greta.
“Here is ‘a cozy, huggable and very large guy in his mid-forties who—,’” Rake went on.
“Ah, women don’t want fat men who don’t care about their appearance,” Christina broke in.
“Or ones with weird beards,” Martha added with a sharp glance at Brains’s unshaven cheeks. It must be Betty who was the reason for that; he was trying to be modern, she thought. “Rake at least had a trimmed chinstrap beard,” she added to be on the safe side.
“Now listen, everybody, don’t bicker. We must work,” Anna-Greta called out. “How are we progressing with the dating?”
Things went quiet because they all realized they were losing focus. Martha had given each of them a free hand to create a suitable “dating card” so that the right people would find each other at the dating table. By answering a list of questions, you would reveal your personality and thus it would allow singles to find one another. The League of Pensioners were searching among the dating sites on the Internet to find inspiration for suitable questions. The idea was to create the best dating questionnaire and not to make fun of personal ads.
“‘Fat and poor guy, aged fifty-five, alcohol problems, looking for a cute and nice girl of suitable age, preferably twenty-five to thirty. Should also be youthful and slim,’” Rake went on. “What do you think, Christina?”
“Order in the ranks!” Anna-Greta roared. “It’s important to have the right questions. What we want to do is to bring together widows and widowers and even people who have never been married before.”
“The unmarried ones often remain unmarried,” Brains muttered with a glance at Martha.
“I think appearance is important,” said Rake. “Height, weight, hair color and so on. Why not simply ask: Are you attractive, or do you look like something the cat brought in?”
“You can’t write that!” protested Christina.
“But you know how things are. At our age one isn’t exactly good-looking,” said Rake and suddenly he looked rather sullen.
“Don’t forget inner beauty. That is more important than anything else,” Martha informed them. Rake gave her an appreciative look, while also understanding why she thought like that. His friend did admittedly try to be chic, but she didn’t always succeed. That waist bag, for example.
“I think we ought to ask about religion,” said Christina. “That is an important part of many people’s lives.”
“Religion? No. That would only lead to arguments,” Brains objected.
“Or war,” said Rake.
“I think we should concentrate on people’s qualities,” was Martha’s contribution. “I mean like if you love animals, do things you’ve planned, are considerate or mostly think about number one—you get the idea.”
“Hmm,” said Brains and he put his hands on his stomach. “Personality, your character, and all that. It would be good if we could formulate suitable questions,” he said. “And don’t forget about the fact that women shouldn’t be hopeless when it comes to DIY.”
“Then we really must include a question about whether you are thrifty or wasteful,” Anna-Greta pointed out.
“Can’t they just check a box somewhere if they have debts registered with the national enforcement agency, or not? That ought to suffice,” Rake suggested.
There was a scratching sound from their pens as they all made notes.
“Can we ask if you are satisfied or dissatisfied, like challenges or prefer things to remain as they are?” Christina wondered and she waved her pen.
“Absolutely,” Martha agreed.
“Yes, or if you want peace and quiet or adventure. That says a lot about a person,” Brains chipped in.
A murmur of approval went around the room and there was a little pause while everybody reflected.
“But talking about personal qualities,” said Christina looking up from her notepad, “temperament is important. I mean, whether you are grumpy and irascible, sad or happy. Some people can easily get depressed, and others not at all. We should include that too.”
Again a murmur of approval could be heard while they continued to make notes.
“And if the person is happy or is—well, you know what I mean, an anxious type?” Anna-Greta added. “Some people can have a crisis but be optimists and ready to move on with life. Others just sort of collapse.”
“Hell, this is like being on a therapist’s couch,” Rake broke in. “I know, let’s just keep it simple. Why not just fill in whether you are attractive or not, and of course whether you are sexy.”
“Now listen, what we must do is have more lofty goals than that,” said Martha in such an acid tone that it would have corroded any frying pan.
“No, you know what? We can make it even simpler,” Rake stubbornly went on. “The women can check whether they want you to be loving or if it’s just a question of getting down to it right away!”
“Watch your mouth!” said Martha.
“But for goodness’ sake, behave yourselves. ORDER IN THE RANKS!” Anna-Greta shouted this out so loud that Rake sat bolt upright on the sofa, replied “Aye, aye, captain,” and then kept his mouth shut.
THE MEETING LASTED ALL DAY LONG AND IT WAS NOT UNTIL THE following night, after they had slept on it, that they could agree on the contents of a questionnaire which filled an entire page—or the equivalent of a page on an iPad. When Anna-Greta realized this, she let out a cry of delight.
“Now what about this? I’ve got an idea. We’ve got Internet in the restaurant, right? So why don’t we give each place at the dating table an iPad and every iPad an email address? We let the participants answer the questions in the questionnaire directly on the iPad and then they just have to send it off. So if, for example, you want a man who is intelligent and kind, then you’ll get an answer directly from the man at the table who fits the bill.”
“But how?” wondered Christina.
There was silence for a while and they all stared at Brains.
“Why not install lamps at each place on the table. Then a little lamp would light up beside that particular iPad,” he reckoned. “The fastest dating in the world.”
“Brilliant, you’re a genius, Brains,” Anna-Greta said. “But then we must chain the iPad to the place at the table or else there would be chaos.”
“Another thing. What if lots of people are ‘kind’? Then many lamps would start flashing,” Rake objected.
“How delightful! Then you’d have even more men to choose from,” Anna-Greta exclaimed. “Oh I do love iPads!”
“If you kiss your iPad, then you’re sure to get your prince,” Rake said, grinning.
“I know, we can create an app for princes, what about that, Rake?” Brains smiled and immediately suffered a prod to his ribs from Martha.
“OK, then. The lamps are a first point of contact, but then you ought to take the flirtation up to the next level,” Brains said.
“Mating!” declared Rake.
“Mind your manners!” roared Martha.
Brains scratched his beard and frowned. “Listen. If one person at the table writes that he wants a happy, medium-height woman who likes to bake, and a woman writes that she is of medium height, a happy person who likes pastries, then they can continue to chat on the iPad. She can write what kinds of cakes she likes to bake, and he can write what kinds of cakes he likes to eat,” he went on.
“Women bake and men eat?” Christina snorted. “Ugh! That’s the 1950s. Nowadays men bake too, just so you know. When did you last bake a cake for Martha?”
Brains just sat there with his mouth open and forgot what he was going to say. After prodding his beard with his finger for a while he started up again.
“Yes, well, the iPads and the places around the table have the same number and when the lamp has started to flash at place eleven, for example, then you can start chatting with that person on the iPad directly. If it seems like it might be a decent date, then you press OK—”
“No, you suggest a beer. Come, darling, let’s have a beer,” Rake chipped in. “Are there apps for that?”
“What I mean is, when you strike lucky, then you go with your newly found friend to the dating corner and have a beer. And if you still like the woman—”
“The guy,” Anna-Greta cut in.
“Yes, then you continue with a nice dinner together here on the barge.”
“And we charge scandalous prices for the food. Fantastic, Brains!” Anna-Greta exclaimed.
They all looked at him with such admiration that he blushed and Martha couldn’t help but slip her hand into his.
“You know what?” she said, then took a deep breath. “Now you have created the world’s first dating table.”
“Yes, by God, this is going to be where it all happens!” declared Rake.