I hold my phone up to the camera.
Catherine squints. ‘It looks like he’s got something in his mouth.’
‘Teeth. Anything else?’
‘Hmm yeah, he’s got the hair.’
‘What do you mean ‘the hair’?’
‘It’s the kind you like.’
I frown at the picture. I mean, he has hair, but…
‘I wouldn’t say it was big hair.’
Thank God we’re not being superficial.
By the end of the weekend it’s been a week of snail-paced messaging and I’m kind of bored. For all that the guy’s got going for him – teeth, hair, height, sense of humour – he’s still just a face on an app.