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“I did.” The fine tremor in her hand as she tried to pour her next shot had mine snapping out, taking the bottle from her and setting it down. “But apparently it was ‘not that serious.’”

“Flying you out to Sydney to stay at some bougie penthouse apartment and fucking until you developed cystitis wasn’t serious?” I said. “Damn…” I topped off her shot. “So, men, amirite?”

“Men.”

We clinked glasses, wincing as the tequila burned all the way down.

Some hours later, I couldn’t feel my face let alone any second-hand embarrassment for letting someone’s husband pash me. We were sprawled out on our couch watching reruns of Friends, throwing popcorn at the screen each time Ross talked about being on a break.

“You know what we need?” Daria was well and truly slurring her words now, her head spinning around so fast I half expected it to pop off.

“Therapy?” I replied. “To learn to love ourselves before we try to love anyone else?”

“Real men.” She nodded, gaining momentum with each bob of her head. “None of this… kind of guy.” Her hand gestured to the TV.

“Joey and Chandler?”

“Guys that work in offices and are CEOs. Lawyers.” She wrinkled her nose. “Guys who wouldn’t know hard work if it came up and humped their leg.”

“Oh-kay…”

“Salt of the earth guys. A real man’s man,” she said.

“Fairly sure a man’s man would be gay but whatever.”

“You know what I mean!” I should’ve lied and said I did, because right then she shoved me hard, sending me flying along the couch. Damn, maybe I drank a bit more than I intended. As my head spun, she turned around and crawled closer. “A man who works with his hands, who knows his way around tools.”

“Weird way to say you want a dude with a sex toy collection, but I’m listening,” I said.

“I saw this video tonight where this girl walked up to hot guys at hardware stores until she found a single one. This guy helped her out and now they’re married.” I looked on in horror as tears filled her eyes. “They’re married and it was beautiful and they have kids, a boy and a girl.”

“Oh-kay…”

“And they got them these little tool belts…” She brushed away her tears. “We’re going to Bunnings tomorrow.”

“For a sausage sandwich?”

Bunnings was the largest hardware chain in Australia, and their sausage sandwiches were legendary. My stomach rumbled noisily, reminding me I hadn’t eaten anything other than a few overpriced wings.

“For some good Australian tradie sausage.”

Daria flopped back on the couch, as if that announcement took what energy she had left.

I forced myself to get up, the room tilting dangerously, but I managed to stagger over to the kitchen, retrieving some bottles of water and pain killers.

I set some down beside her and then popped my own, gulping down mouthfuls of water.

“OK, well, how about you drink down that bottle of water and we’ll talk about it in the morning.” The hell we would. I was off work tomorrow and I intended to sleep off what would be a heinous hangover in the air-conditioned comfort of my room. “Drink the water and say goodnight, Daria.”

“Goodnight, Daria…”

Her arm rose as she waved to me limply, then I heard a low whistle as her eyes fell closed. With a sigh I looked at the chaos in our lounge room, then turned off the TV, vowing to deal with it tomorrow.

Apparently that wasn’t going to happen. I was deep in sleep, some rhythmic bass thumping in my head as I danced with not one, not two, but three faceless hotties.

Rather than my usual uncoordinated thrashing, I was fluid, graceful, sexy.

I smiled into my pillow, enjoying the fantasy, but right as they drew closer and I could get a clearer look at their faces, I was rudely awakened.

“Rise and shine, bitch!” I blinked, blinked, tried to focus my eyes, and then groaned when I realised what the thumping was. Not a drum beat, but my head throbbing in time with my heart. Daria’s face swam into view, forcing me to jerk back.

“What the actual…?” I moaned and then pulled my pillow over my head. “Bugger off, Dar.”

“No way.” The sheets were pulled off me, and when she caught sight of my lily-white arse, she let out a little scream of horror before turning off my air conditioner.

Sacrilege. I flopped on my back like a fish, spreading the pillow over my bare torso.

“You said you’d come to the hardware store with me. ”

“Hardware?”

When my vision cleared, I saw her standing there in a very cute pair of daisy dukes and a t-shirt tied at the waist. Her hair was in goddamn pigtails, and she tapped her feet impatiently.

“I realised I’m done chasing after emotionally unavailable white collar guys who think their bank balance gives them a get-out-of-jail-free card that lets them be the biggest dicks. I want a real man.”

“Feel free to get one while I sleep…” I closed my eyes, feeling sleep ready to claim me. “And turn the damn aircon back on.”

“You want one too.”

I loved Daria, I really did, but right now I didn’t like her at all. She grabbed my arm, obviously intent on dragging me out of bed bodily if that’s what it took. I pulled back, feeling my brain slosh around in my head as I sat on the side of the bed.

“OK, OK, I’m up. I’m up.” I glanced at her owlishly. “So what’s the plan again?”

“Enough apps,” she said with a grin. “We’re meeting guys the old way. Walk up the aisles, look for someone hot and most importantly, single, and then see if you can get them to help with some DIY project. I’ll even buy you a sausage sandwich.”

“Two,” I countered. “Gonna need it to soak up all that tequila. Now, let me have a shower in peace and order us an Uber. Neither of us is in a fit state to drive.”

“Yes…!”

I watched her pump her fists in the air as she walked out of my room and then shook my head. Humour Daria and then come back to sleep the day away. What could go wrong?

I needed to scrub that phrase from my brain, because that was just tempting fate, and Lady Fate? She was a tricky bitch. As we spilled out of the Uber after Daria had paid the fare, I didn’t realise I was about to go on another date.

A date with destiny.

“Alright, let’s meet some hot tradies,” she said, rubbing her hands together.