Chloe and 27 dresses. More Uber hilarity

It was just after lunch on Saturday, I picked up Chloe in Lillyfield for a trip to Potts Point. She was waiting, dressed in a shimmering blue shift, high above the knees with a deep spray on tan.

Straight up it was chats-ville, 'I'm on my way to a hens lunch. It's my fifth one in a year.'

'Isn't there a movie about that?' I ask.

'Yes 27 dresses. I'll be broke before then, it costs up to a grand each time!'

But after some more talk of the etiquette of weddings, and whether the bride should do the buying, Chloe drops the dating clanger when I mention my modest car is mostly due to my post divorce financial status.

'I dated a guy who drove one of these! He said it was because he got divorced too. But his car was missing a window, because he said someone broke in'.

'He wasn't my type. He told me his ex sold their house, and he got a hundred grand but he blew it all. On coke. But he said he wasn't a coke addict, and then asked me if I wanted some.'

'Then he said, 'why are you looking at me like that?'

'But it gets better', she said, 'because he got so skinny from the coke he started on steroids to bulk up, and then he said it sent him impotent!'

'That was it for me, but then he started to cry, because he said he lost his sister in a car crash'.

'The next day, he sent me a text by mistake, because it said 'Yo Bro, that chick was amazing, I smashed her five times all night, we had lots of bottles of wine', and I replied 'Well we will not be talking again, and don't forget you said you couldn't get it up anyway.'

She hopped out of the car, we were both laughing.