January 17th, 2016

"So, you just happened to 'briefly date' the artist from last night?"

"It was years ago. Why is this relevant?"

"Did you not see one of his artwork?"

"You have to be more specific."

"Oh, you know, the one where it shows you. Naked. On a bed."

"That was not me."

"Are you sure, because it certainly looked like you."

"It wasn't me. I think I would remember posing naked on a bed for him to paint me. It was probably another girlfriend of his. Gregorio has a type and let's just say he's had a lot of his type."

"If that's what you say. So, how the hell did you end up dating a graffiti artist?"

"Never call him a graffiti artist. He hates that. Street artist or urban artist, thank you. His mother is French, my mother is French. Us half-French kids have got to stick together. We met, dated for a while, broke up and moved on."

"Just how many guys have you dated?"

"Dated or had sex with? I feel like you're asking one question but really you want an answer to another question. So, which do you want to know?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"You looked amazing last night."

"Huh? I mean, pardon?"

"I liked your dress last night. You looked very nice."

"Thank you. You didn't answer my question, though."

"I know. I'm avoiding it."

"I got that. Right, let's change the topic. What did you think of the exhibit last night?"

"You want an honest opinion? I hated it. Gregorio Aneiro is not my type of artist."

"You like the old stuff, huh? Pre-Raphaelite, I bet. If it's Hurst or Emin, I'm hanging up."

"Georgia O'Keeffe, actually."

"How was the date, then? Better than the artwork, I presume."

"Not really. Felicity was... interesting. A little too kooky for my tastes, but at least it got my grandmother off my back for a while."

"Too kooky? Kookier than me?"

"Most definitely."

"No! Not possible! Man, I got to step up my game! Kooky Crown is mine."

"Well, after that outburst, I think your crown is safe."

"Win! On a serious note, what was wrong with Felicity?"

"She wasn't..."

"Wasn't, what?"

"Nothing. She just wasn't my type."

"What is your type?"

"Um, well, it used to be blue eyed blondes with legs that went on for days. Now, I don't know. It's not like going for my usual type has got me anywhere in the past."

"Then maybe Felicity is the girl you need after all."

"No, she isn't."

"Don't give up. I'm sure there's a redhead or a brunette out there for you. You've just got to be more open to possibilities."

"Perhaps."

"So, you liked my outfit last night?"

"You looked lovely, yes."

"You know, you didn't look too bad, either."

"Wait, you saw me? I mean, I saw you, but I never caught you looking at me, so I though..."

"I see everything, Daniel. You looked very dapper in the coat."

"Thank you. How'd you know my size, though?"

"I work in fashion, Daniel. It's part of my job to know measurements. I compared your LinkedIn photo to Hugo and took a guess. Turns out I was right."

"Actually, you were an inch off. My shoes size, however, was spot on."

"Huh, you have big feet."

"I do."

"You know what they say about men with big feet."

"Big socks."

"Exactly."

"Haha. I saw you talking to a guy at the gallery last night. Was that Hugo?"

"Jealous?"

"No."

"Yes, that was Hugo. He decided to tag along. I think he's trying his luck with Isadora."

"Yeah, how's that going?"

"They went home together last night."

"Going well, then."

"More fool Isadora. I love Hugo, truly, I do, but he's a player. You know how all these old rockstars shagged a million and one women, like Mick Jagger style? Yeah, that's Hugo. Only that he's twenty-seven, not sixty-seven."

"Props to him."

"No. No, he does not get any props!"

"Speaking of players, did a guy in a blue oxford shirt with overgrown curly hair come and talk to you last night?"

"Um, maybe. Yeah, he was at the bar drinking Corona. That guy?"

"Elias, yeah. He said that he'd spoken to someone called Sophie."

"Green eyes, right? I distinctly remember thinking that his shirt brought out the epic colour of his eyes. Man, he was gorgeous."

"Funnily, that's what he said about you. If only he actually spoke to you!"

"Hey!"

"I was joking, Sophie."

"I know, doofus."

"Did you just call me 'doofus'? Haha!"

"Shut up. I'm hanging up now."

"No! Wait! Come on, Soph."

"You better make this conversation worth my while, Danny Duck."

"Elias said you were a very nice woman. Educated and cultured, and stunning. Nothing I already didn't know."

"He said that about me?"

"Yes."

"Huh. Sorry to have to break his heart, but he isn't my type."

"He's not?"

"Nope. Don't get me wrong, he was really nice to look at, but looks don't get you far. You need a personality."

"He has one of those too."

"I'm sure he does."

"So, what type of personality do you like?"

"Um... the opposite of me."

"Mhm."

"Well, I have to go. I've got a tonne of packing to do."

"Packing? Why, where are you going? Paris, again?"

"Actually, New York. I've been invited by Vogue New York to go over and have a preview of a designer's collection."

"New York? No! That's like... the other side of the world. And the time difference. How is this going to work?"

"It's only for a week and we'll make it work. It won't be that bad, Daniel."

"If you say so."

"Hey, where were you yesterday? You said that you were going to phone, but then you never did. I left you like sixty voicemails."

"It was nowhere near sixty, Soph. I was in a meeting and I couldn't get out of it. Evelyn gave me the package when I got back to the office, though. Thanks for remembering."

"That's what friends do, right?"

"Right."

"..."

"You should go pack now."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot about that."

"When do you leave?"

"Flight is tomorrow at ten am."

"Well, call me whenever. Work out the time zone and call."

"Even if it's three am in London."

"Even then. I'll always answer your call, Soph."

"I'll hold you to that. Right, I should go. Emma's coming over to help me pack."

"Emma?"

"Youngest sister."

"Right."

"Bye, Daniel."

"Bye, Soph."