Mrs Oblomov by Andrew Shephard
How did I meet him? Through a dating site. His profile stood out because of its honesty. Instead of bigging himself up like most men he admitted to a long list of faults without a hint of shame. True to his claim of unreliability, he failed to show at Pizza Express at the agreed time. Usually I would have glugged down my wine, dismissed him as a tosser and slunk off home dispirited. But I didn’t want to let it go. There was a tantalising familiarity about his picture. I was sure I had met him before and I needed to know where. A few taps and swipes on my phone later I had a mobile number for him. I ordered a second glass of wine and sent him a cheeky text asking how long he would be and did he want me to order for him. I tapped the table with my sparkly nails waiting for a ping of acknowledgement. Half a glass of wine later my phone was still as silent as a church mouse. I was about to press the phone sign and give him a piece of my mind when I had a better idea. I was ...