“I’ll have the mushroom risotto. No dessert.”

Steve’s friend had recommended SingleChat, a mediocre dating site with people older-than-himself, most of whom had checked the “casual encounter” box. Cora, however, was a catch. The younger, optimistic part of himself thought so, anyway.

“Sorry,” said Cora, tossing her long, blonde hair, “I must have dessert. I’ll have the pesce spada and the tiramisu as well, please.”

The waiter winked, “Right away,” and departed with a long stride.

“So,” after an awkward pause, “braving dessert? Is this the new feminism?”

“Exactly. I don’t like sharing,” she smiled, “trying to divide dessert evenly or fighting over the last bite. When I have my own I can eat exactly as much as I want — which is always all of it.” Cora’s skin was genuinely bronze and glowing in the candle-lit restaurant.