They Don't Serve Madeleines In Pizza Express

"There are millions of women who would love to meet a guy like you," he said.
We were having lunch and he was having a go at me. We used to work together. He was upset that nothing had changed.
"You're in good shape for your age," he continued, "you have a good job, your own place, you have manners, you're smart and speak languages. Come on..."
I took a bite of my pizza. "Well, where are they?" I asked.
"They're all around. You're the difficult one. Just because they don't read Proust it doesn't mean you shouldn't give them a chance."
I had never mentioned Proust. I had just mentioned that I liked them smart. Smart and with an interest in books.
"I never mentioned Proust," I said.
"Whatever. You know what I mean."
"Well, where are they?"
"What about those girls over there?" He pointed to a group of three girls sitting a few tables away.
I looked across. "They're too young. And they're overly made up. They look like they are having trouble just reading the menu."
He spluttered.
"What?" I said.