“You remind me of a young Rupert Everett,” I write to Florian, a 25 year old Parisian banker.
“Who?” He texts back.
“English actor. Was the next big thing in the 80s until his lifestyle overshadowed his acting. Ex best friend of Madonna. Worked as a male escort…”
“Has he been in anything recently?”
“Um, he played Oscar Wilde in The Judas Kiss at Hampstead last year. Made a couple of tv programmes on Byron and the sex trade.”
“No, I not know him,” Florian types back.
One of the problems with trying to engage with the youth of today is their complete lack of cultural reference points. Of course they haven’t read anything, that goes without saying, but they also seem to know nothing of twentieth century film or theatre. And I suppose the very nature of celebrity is its transience.
Chatting on tinder to another bright young thing, 27 year old Ryan, a musician apparently.
“Are you a cougar?” He types.
“Certainly not,” I reply. “Surely that’s a term for an older divorcee, someone in their 40s at least. Say Demi Moore, or Sadie Frost or…”
“I haven’t heard of them. Who are they?”
I sigh. “Demi Moore – Hollywood actress – Indecent ProposalDisclosure was married to Bruce Willis. Divorced him and got together with Ashton Kutcher. Sadie Frost – actress and 90s celebrity, married to Jude Law. Best friends with Kate Moss and Pearl Lowe.”
“Nope, sorry.” Ryan writes back.
They’re impulsive and changeable too, these bright young things. Since my first day on Tinder I’ve been messaging Roland, a posh 25 year old who plays golf – how very P.G. Wodehouse. We haven’t met yet. last night at 9pm a message from him flashes up:
“I love you x”
9.04pm: “No, ignore that I’m very drunk.”
9.06pm. “I’m feeling seriously confused emotions: you make me up and down.”
9.14pm: “I’m joking I’m joking we have fun right?”
I reply, thanking him for his sentiments.
Then today – nothing from him and he’s deleted me! I think this whole dating business is going to take a while to master.