Meagan indicated to the waiter to bring three more shots as Jemima quietly hoped Simi’s swift defeat would show her the madness in this. Maybe now she might consider therapy or at least unfollowing Oscar on Instagram. How many cycling photos can one person truly like? She rested her hand on Simi’s arm and was just about to administer some gentle but firm love when Meagan piped up.

‘Tell you where you went wrong. You’ve got to look like you don’t give a shit,’ she said. ‘Like Jemima. See?’

‘That’s just my face!’ Jemima said.

It wasn’t that she didn’t give a shit, she just wasn’t convinced what Simi needed after the end of a relationship was even more rejection, even if it was on someone else’s behalf!

‘Come on, Jem. You have a go. Watch this, Simi. You’ll see what I mean,’ said Meagan.

Jemima gawped at her with the expression of a death row convict who’d just heard the executioner’s keys. Fine. Two wipeouts were bound to end this insanity. Jemima wobbled to her feet. Steeped in sambuca, she unsteadily scanned the bar. Way over on the other side, she spotted her mark. He looked like a nice enough guy and that would do. Jemima made her way over. She’d had enough drinks to give her false courage but not so much that a nightclub sounded like a good idea. As she approached with a full bladder and empty mind, she decided to opt for her father’s usual opening gambit of tapping someone on the shoulder and saying, ‘Excuse me, young man!’

As she prodded the tall stranger in the back, his whole table, work colleagues she presumed, turned to look at her. Shit, gulped Jemima. Now she was up close, her mark looked exactly like Oscar! He had the same cappuccino skin and was thin, tall and athletic just like Simi’s ex. She definitely had to fail. If she brought this guy over, Simi would either fall madly in love or think Jemima was some perverse psychopath intent on compounding her misery. She looked back at Meagan who was waving at her to get on with it. Jemima caught her balance and yanked Oscar 2.0 aside.

‘This is going to sound weird but I’m going to ask you out for my friend and you have to pretend you’re not interested,’ she hissed at him.

‘I’m not interested. I’m married,’ said 2.0 holding up his wedding ring finger and turning away.

Jemima grabbed his hand and tried to shove it in his pocket, ‘No one can see that!’

‘But I want them to. That’s why I wear it – so strangers like you know I’m married,’ said 2.0 as he looked back to his friends for help.

‘Don’t worry about them,’ said Jemima turning 2.0’s face back to hers. ‘Shhhhhhh. Listen, listen, you just need to let this play out and I’ll go away.’

‘You promise?’ said 2.0 as one of his colleagues appeared by his side.

‘You alright, Deon?’