The good news is that there is no line dancing taking place in the B & B function room today.
The bad news is that I am about to have my first meeting with a handful of Marram Bay’s most desperate singletons, and I have absolutely no idea what to expect. I only describe them as desperate because surely you would have to be to gather here in this room, ready to take advice from someone only vouched for by their mum.
‘Such a good girl,’ my mum says to herself as she wheels me into the function room.
Sitting there, in the middle of the room forming a sort of circle, are just four people, and they are a real mixed bag.
My mum wheels me into the space they have left for my wheelchair, pulls on my brake, and leaves us to it. For a few seconds, we sit in silence, as I take stock of my students.
‘Erm, OK then,’ I start. ‘Why don’t we go around the room, say our names, a bit about ourselves and why we’re here?’
The first person on my left is Kim, local nurse and my best friend from school. I smile at her and she gives me a half wave. It’s nice to see a familiar face.
‘Hi, everyone, my name is Kim,’ she starts nervously. ‘Some of you might recognise me from the surgery. I’m thirty-two, recently had to move back in with my parents to help out and, as you can imagine, my love life has taken a bit of a back seat. So, I thought maybe coming here might be a good way to meet single people, learn a bit more about how to mingle, and get to spend time with my friend, of course.’
‘Aww, that’s lovely,’ I say. ‘Who have we got next?’
‘My name is Chantelle, but everyone calls me Channy,’ a young woman explains. Channy has a very bold look. Her skin is extremely white, but this might be because every bit of make-up apart from her foundation is so dark, and her hair is dyed jet black. She has a septum piercing and a large tattoo stretching right across her chest – a sort of collage of a whole mess of things. I imagine men are intimidated by Channy because not only does she look so confident, she sounds sure of herself too. Self-confidence is absolutely an attractive quality, but sometimes men can find it a little scary.
‘Some of you might know me because I work at the deli,’ she adds.
‘How old are you?’ I ask.
‘I’m twenty-two,’ Channy replies. ‘I’m not technically single … I’m seeing someone but he messes me around. I need to meet someone new and, well, it’s hard to meet people in a small town like this. Everyone my age, I grew up with. There are only maybe fifteen people on Tinder who aren’t tourists, and I’ve tried dating older men, but the one I’m seeing at the moment is older and he’s worse than any of the young F-boys around here. So here I am, at the end of my tether. You’re my last resort.’
‘Great,’ I say with faux enthusiasm. No pressure there then.
I’m not sure how I feel about helping someone with a boyfriend meet someone else, but he does sound like a no-good boyfriend. I know all about those.
Next up we have our only male group member – and I recognise him.
‘I take it you didn’t meet anyone at the speed dating,’ I say to him to break the ice. He looks nervous, fidgeting in his seat, nibbling on one of his already quite short fingernails.
‘No, miss.’
‘Hey, remember what I said last night? I’m not your teach … Oh, I suppose I am your teacher now, kind of. Still, please call me Lola.’
‘Lola, OK, hello,’ he says, still a bag of nerves. ‘My name is Toby, I’m eighteen, I’ve been single for …’ He pauses, as though he’s counting. ‘Well, forever, really.’
I decide to put him out of his misery and move on to our final student, and the one I am the most excited to learn about.
‘Hello,’ I say to the seventy-something lady sitting to my right. ‘What brings you here?’
‘My name is Doris,’ she says. ‘Seventy-three years young, my husband is dead and I’m ready to find someone new.’
Everyone’s jaw drops – my own included.
‘Oh, not recently,’ she says. ‘My Alan, God rest his soul, left this earth six years ago. Now just feels like the right time to move on, but it’s hard, especially at my age.’
‘What have you tried?’ I ask curiously.
‘Well, Channy is right,’ she starts, pronouncing her name with a ‘ch’ rather than a ‘sh’. ‘Tinder is a wash.’
‘Oh, you use Tinder?’ I ask, trying to hide my disbelief.
‘Oh, yes,’ she replies. ‘Well, I try, but there’s nowt worth catching on there. I’m pretty good with the old iPhone.’
I watch as Doris removes a white iPhone in a lilac flip case from her handbag. She narrows her eyes as she looks at it.
‘That reminds me,’ she starts. ‘What’s this club called? I want to check in.’
I can’t help but smile. This is so surreal. I thought I’d left my hometown stuck in the late Nineties, well that’s where it was when I moved away – in the Noughties, I hasten to add.
‘We, erm, we don’t have a name,’ I say. Well, I didn’t even know we existed – or that we were, in fact, a club until about an hour ago.
‘I’d suggest the Undateables, but that name is taken,’ Kim jokes.
‘Plus, I can get dates,’ Channy says. ‘If I lower my standards enough. We’re more like …’
‘The Unlovables?’ Toby suggests.
‘Christ, you’re depressing,’ Channy blurts out. ‘I thought I was supposed to be the goth. No, more like …’
‘The Unmatchables?’ Doris says.
‘I like that,’ Kim says. ‘It sounds … less like our fault.’
‘Oh, none of you are the reason you are single,’ I insist.
‘Not even him?’ Channy asks, nodding towards Toby.
‘No one’s fault,’ I reiterate. ‘You just haven’t met the right person yet.’
‘The Unmatchables,’ Doris says to herself slowly as she taps it into her phone.
I did think to myself, in the hour I had to prepare, that I might be able to match up a few of my singles. No chance of that with this group – there’s only one man, for starters, and he’s a boy really. Way too young for Doris, too young for Kim – maybe not too young for Channy, but she would chew him up and spit him out.
‘I think maybe we should start with some confidence-building techniques,’ I suggest. ‘Get you in a position where you not only want to approach the people you meet when you’re out and about, but also give you the confidence to go up to them and talk to them. How does that sound?’
My group are all happy with my plan of attack. Well, the first step of it anyway … The first step is all I have right now – who knows what step will be next? I suppose I’ll have to make this up as I go along.