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tragically short of her true desire.

As of late, they’d fallen out of touch. Babis was cur-rently catching him in between blind dates, Mitsos in-formed him. The one earlier, somewhere on Fokionos Negri square, hadn’t gone very well. He’d ended it much sooner than expected with the excuse, which more or less was the truth anyway, that an urgent meeting had come up. Her worn-down face despite her youth and a couple of extra rolls in the abdomen area, which he had guessed through the cover of a car-digan, were enough to put him off there and then, he said. The cherry on top ? The view of her thighs when she got up to go to the toilet. She had barely scored a two. Out of twenty, he clarified immediately. Her photos were promising something completely differ-ent. She must have taken them at least five years ago. If he wasn’t by nature well-bred, he would’ve left her

-There is a Greek equivalent for blind dates (ραντεβού στα τυφλά).

- Find me one person who says it and I will put it.

Have him adding: Or rather the cake under the cherry?

-By nature well-bred is a contradiction in terms.

-But is Mitsos talking not Babis.

Simos Panopoulos - Look at that

48

stranded after the first quarter of an hour. But no, he sat there and put up with it, or her rather, for a whole hour. An hour that felt like an eternity. Any conversa-tion was forced. Let alone how much she jarred him with the “so, yeah…” that, lest of the awkward silence looming over them, she threw at him every two sec-onds. Then, when they asked for the bill, she didn’t even take out her wallet for the sake of pretence. What had she ordered? A measly cappuccino after all, that’s it. “And don’t get me started on her intellectual level,” he added. In her own words, the only book she had ever read in her life was The Alchemist by Coelho.

He didn’t seem especially disappointed though - the same way, for example, that a real estate agent or salesman wouldn’t be after a fruitless meet-ing with a customer. He expected more out of the next one. It was to be with a counselling psychol-ogist with a Master’s degree from a UK universi-ty, who seemed mighty scrumptious, but I’m not counting my chickens just yet, he explained, be-cause he had met a lot like her before and every single time they had turned out to be mare’s nest…The rendezvous was for a coffee shop at Skoufa str.Hold on, where the hell do you get all these dates from, Babis asked full of

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