I flick a glance in Gen’s direction, wondering if she’s thinking what I’m thinking. I know way more about Rich’s sex life than I feel is necessary. Meanwhile, my sex life is completely dead in the water, and I’m pretty sure that Alex and Emma hooked up again the other night. Not that I’ve a problem with that, of course, because we’re friends and that’s perfectly nice. But I did kind of hope maybe it had fizzled out.

The most logical conclusion is to do as the saying goes, and get over him by getting under someone else. Or on top of. I’m not fussy, really. So, I’ve done it. Committed to signing up for online dating, starting with Tinder, because it’s free, and the idea of paying for online dating seems a bit – well, it doesn’t really matter what it seems, the truth is I’m skint.

‘Why don’t you just put something nice in your bio: “likes long walks and lazy Sundays drinking coffee and reading the papers”?’ Sophie suggests, as if it’s that easy to bag a man.

‘Yeah, that’ll definitely do it,’ Gen says, giving me a bug-eyed stare.

‘What’s wrong with that?’ Sophie sounds slightly offended.

‘It’s just a bit – sad.’

‘But it’s true. She does like walks and Sundays and coffee and all that stuff. Don’t you, Jess?’ She looks to me for confirmation. I feel torn.

‘I do,’ I say, hesitantly. ‘It’s just a bit . . .’

‘Clichéd,’ says Gen, firmly.

‘Oh.’ Sophie sags a little bit in her chair.

‘Oh God,’ Gen looks slightly shame-faced. ‘Hang on, you met Rich at uni. I was feeling guilty in case I’d exposed your secret Tinder technique.’

‘Yes, we met in the debating club, remember?’

Gen and I exchange glances. Nope, don’t remember that at all, but it couldn’t be more Sophie if she tried.

I should channel her, I think, and then I’d meet someone nice. My thoughts float in the direction of Alex, and I realise that if I was Sophie I’d probably just channel my thoughts in the direction of him, and he’d realise that he was looking for a relationship after all, and definitely wasn’t after a no-strings-attached shag-fest with Emma. I wrinkle my nose at the thought.

‘You all right?’ Gen looks at me with concern.

‘I’ve heard some horror stories about Tinder,’ I say quickly (it’s the first thing that springs to mind, and it’s true at least). ‘What if I end up being chopped into pieces by an axe murderer?’

‘That could happen any day of the week regardless of dating apps,’ says Sophie, reassuringly. She even squeezes my arm to underline what she’s saying, her face creased into a little frown of kindness.

‘Right, well, that’s comforting,’ I say.