Just Perfect – Flash Fiction
‘Showoff,’ she declares as her French polish acrylic nails click on the screen as she swipes left.
‘I thought he looked fun,’ I protest.
‘He was wearing a Captain’s hat at the helm of a yacht…In my experience people who can afford a yacht, don’t need to show it off to the whole world.’
She casts a pitiful look – the kind of look you’d give the runner-up on The Bachelor the moment she realises she’s “not the one”.
‘Who’s better equipped to do this…Me…’ She flashes her 2 carat diamond ring in front of my face then picks a clump of cat fur off my coffee-stained t-shirt. ‘…Or you?’
Why had I let my oh-so-perfect sister get involved in my love life?
‘What about that one?’ I indicate the next candidate.
My sister snorts. ‘The one scoffing a giant pizza slice?’
‘I like pizza.’
‘Seriously, you need to raise your standards. Aim for someone perfect…you know like––’
‘––like my Rohan,’ I say in sing-song.
‘Exactly,’ she smiles triumphantly, oblivious to my sarcasm. ‘The right job. The right friends. The right car. The right look.’
‘I don’t want the perfect guy. I want someone normal…with a sprinkle of different.’
‘Like this guy?’ She points at the profile of a guy with a pencil moustache, dressed as a hobbit. His profile says he likes cosplay and stamp collecting.
‘Maybe not that kind of different.’
I give her the nod and she swipes left.
‘You need to switch things up,’ she says. ‘Don’t swipe right for anything less than perfect…that’s what I did.’
‘Okay,’ I concede but wish my sister didn’t sound so smug. I’m itching to point out some of her fiance’s flaws but none come to mind.
The muffled notes of the Bridal Chorus ring from her designer bag and she shoves my phone at me so she can answer hers.
I swipe left through a sea of guys, determined to find Mr “perfect”. My finger stills when I get to a hot abs photo. I can’t see the guy’s face and would normally write him off as someone who’s clearly into himself, but my sister did say to switch it up.
‘Do “perfect” abs count?’ I call out as my sister hangs up.
‘Depends on everything else.’ She’s typing on her phone. ‘Just got to cancel our dinner booking. Rohan’s got to work late tonight.’
I read Mr Perfect Abs’ profile out loud. ‘A good sense of humour. Likes dogs and the gym. Six foot. Looking for a relationship. Score!’
‘What’s the rest of him look like?’
I go to the next photo and my breath catches in my throat. I recognise the photo from the engagement party, but he’s cropped everyone else out.
‘Well?’ My sister is back by my side.
‘Ah…he’s not for me.’
‘Of course he is.’ She snatches the phone from me and we both stare at the photo.
My sister’s fiance, Rohan, is smiling back at us and while I know it’s wrong, a small part of me is smiling too.
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Photo by MART PRODUCTION via pexels.
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