Looking for Love

Derek stared across the breakfast table at his wife. Where had it all gone so bloody wrong, he thought. He’d been by himself ever since that bastard from Number 48 had run off with his Sheila. At first, he’d spent every waking hour plotting and scheming. Oh the scenarios of revenge he’d laid out in his head! He smiled to himself as he remembered some of the more... colourful, shall we say.  As time had elapsed, he’d finally come to the conclusion that he was better than that; a real catch to be sure! Why, any woman would have been proud to wake up next to him... should have been in fact. The reality had been a bit of a shock to him, a real disappointment if he were honest with himself. He’d tried going down the pub to meet someone, but all he’d ended up with was a black eye from the husband of the busty barmaid he’d chatted up. He was certain she’d been up for it; positively encouraged him! Speed dating had proved a dead end too. All those middle-aged school ma’am types. He was looking for someone who would look after him, could cook, clean and meet his needs in the bedroom. Not a woman who wanted to know whether he was financially viable. Honestly, the cheek of some of them; didn’t they know their place nowadays? It was his friend, Norman, who’d eventually come to his rescue in hushed tones over a quiet pint in The Red Lion (said barmaid had been eyeing him all evening- what a floozy). The internet, Norman said, was the place to find yourself the perfect woman. Desperate they were, according to Norman, begging for it. It had sounded just like what Derek was looking for! Over the next few days, he had spent hours in his local library on the pc in the corner near Real Romance and Thrillers. The librarian had been more than happy to help, she’d leaned over him in that tight fitting blouse of hers, reeking of knock-off perfume. No more than a common harlot; he had his sights set much higher now thanks to the wonders of science. Within days, Derek’s dating profile had been up and running. And that was when the emails began. At first, they’d appeared daily in his inbox, nothing more than a tempting novelty. Norman had warned him that sometimes companies sold your information on, so they hadn’t surprised him that much... given some of the extra needs he’d placed on his dating profile. Shortly after that however, they’d started to arrive every few hours and this time they’d become more personal. No longer Dear customer, now they had spoken to Derek in more familiar tones. Every time Derek had logged on, they were there, waiting patiently for him. In the beginning, he’d brushed them off, then they had begun to intrigue him... Dear Derek, we can provide your perfect match. A partner who can cater to your every need without question. Derek hadn’t been able to deny it, it really was what he’d been looking for all this time. And after all, bizarrely he’d had no responses to his online ad; there must obviously have been something wrong with the site. Derek had tentatively clicked open the latest email and, after only the slightest of hesitation, he had typed his response.
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She had cost him dearly, all his life savings in fact. But at first, Derek had thought she was worth every bloody penny. Stunning she was! He couldn’t quite believe that the company had managed to find someone that ticked off every single one of his requirements. Physically, she’d looked just like his Sheila, but thinner (Sheila had never shifted that extra weight after her op). He called her Sheila 2, couldn’t be bothered to learn her name, some bloody foreign lingo. Mentally, she’d been just that little bit dim; suited him right down to the ground. No bloody arguments, never answered back, too stupid to question why he’d given her only half the housekeeping when his bets went sour. Perfect. Norman had been so damn jealous of his luck, particularly (as Norman had liked to point out repeatedly) as it had been his idea. Derek had settled into a comfortable routine; well who wouldn’t when they were waited on hand and foot? The trouble had started that Tuesday morning, when Derek first found Sheila 2 with the newspaper he’d carelessly thrown down the side of the chair when his horse came in 5th. Instead of picking up the discarded paper and folding it neatly for the recycling pile (as was her want to do), he had caught her actually reading it! He had pitied the poor creature at first, it had been like watching a dog try to knit. However, as the weeks went on, he had noticed that Sheila 2 wasn’t just browsing, she was avidly reading the papers from back to front. Hell, she’d even tried conversing with him about current events! He had not liked the way this was going, not one bit; getting ideas above her station. She was even expecting to be asked nicely when he wanted his tea or a bath running.
Now here they were. Six months in and Sheila 2 had actually begun answering back. The bloody cheek of it! As for the bedroom department, forget it! Dared to say she wasn’t in the mood! All she ever seemed to do nowadays was bitch and moan. He wiped the back of a hand across his chin, where the egg yolk had run, and roughly shoved his unfinished plate towards her with a grunt. Sheila 2 glared at him as he snatched his paper from the table and stormed from the kitchen. As the door slammed between them she calmly picked up the plate and walked towards the sink. She scraped the remnants of bacon and eggs into the disposal unit. What does he expect from me? I’m not a bloody machine thought Sheila 2 as she undid the catch on the back of her neck, and connected the extendable cable into the K3-602 recharging socket. As she stood, feeling the power surge through her circuitry, Derek’s voice echoed from down the hall. Bloody Japanese technology! Knew I should’ve bought British!