by Alice Oseman
‘What, fantasise about someone they have a crush on?’
As soon as she said it, I realised how obvious it was. Of course people did that. I’d seen it dozens of times in movies and on TV and in fanfics.
‘This is going to be harder than I thought,’ said Rooney.
‘Oh.’
‘OK, so. Question Two. Who was the celebrity you last got off to?’
I blinked. ‘People definitely don’t do that.’
‘Do what?’
‘Get off to pictures of celebrities.’
‘Uh, yes they do. I have a folder of shirtless pics of Henry Cavill on my laptop.’
I laughed.
Rooney did not.
‘What?’ she asked.
I genuinely thought she was joking. ‘I thought that was just a movie thing. You really just … look at abs and that does it for you?’
‘I mean … yeah.’ Rooney looked a little put out. ‘What, is that not normal?’
I had no idea what was normal. Maybe nothing was normal. ‘I just don’t get the appeal. Like … abs are just lumpy stomachs.’
This made Rooney laugh loudly. ‘OK. Fine. Question Three –’
‘How are there more questions –’
‘Sex dreams. What happened in your last sex dream?’
I stared at her. ‘Seriously?’
‘Yes!’
I started to say that I’d never had a sex dream, but that wasn’t strictly true. I’d had a dream a couple of years back where in order to pass my exams I had to have sex with a guy in my class. He was waiting on my bed, naked, and I kept walking in and out of my bedroom, fully clothed, not quite able to work up the courage to go through with it. It wasn’t a nightmare, but it gave me that same feeling of a nightmare where you’re trying to run away from a demon but your legs are moving like they’re stuck in sludge, and the demon is catching up with you, but you can’t move properly, and you’re about to die.
On second thoughts, I wasn’t sure that counted as a sex dream.
‘I don’t have sex dreams,’ I said.
Rooney stared back at me. ‘What … ever?’
‘Does everyone have sex dreams?’
‘Well … I don’t know, now.’ Rooney looked almost as confused as me. ‘I assumed it was kind of an everyone thing, but … I mean, I guess it’s not.’
I almost regretted bringing this up with her. For someone who’d had a lot of sex, Rooney didn’t seem to understand it any better than I did. Making a snap decision, I grabbed my phone again. ‘I am going to message Pip.’
‘Yes. Please get her involved. I want to know what she thinks.’
I gave Rooney a look. ‘You’re very interested in what Pip thinks about sex, huh?’
Rooney spluttered. ‘Uh – no, actually, no. I just – I just wanted a third opinion and she’s the most likely person to overshare.’
Georgia Warr
apologies for the late-night message but i have a question, dear friend
Felipa Quintana
It better not be about the group chat name because I will defend ‘a midsummer night’s dab’ until I die
Georgia Warr
i respect the dab, it’s not about that
soooooo
me and rooney are having a conversation about sex right now
Felipa Quintana
OOOOH
Okay I’m in
Georgia Warr
my question is . . . . . .
do you have sex dreams?
Felipa Quintana
Lol WOW
Georgia Warr
you don’t have to answer if it’s too personal haha
but also i have seen you pee multiple times
we know each other probably too well by this point
for the record, rooney is here and wants to know your answers
Felipa Quintana
Wow hi rooney
Yeah I’ve had sex dreams
Not like looooads
But occasionally
I mean that’s pretty normal right??
‘She says she’s had sex dreams,’ I said to Rooney.
‘Ask her about masturbating,’ Rooney hissed from across the room.
‘Rooney.’
‘It’s for science!’
Georgia Warr
that’s basically what we’re trying to determine
a second question – when you have a wank do you think about YOURSELF having sex?? And if so … with what gender??
rooney says the gender doesn’t matter for her
Felipa Quintana
JESUS georgia what is this conversation omg
Wait Rooney thinks about being with girls??????
Georgia Warr
yeah
Felipa Quintana
Okay . . . . . . Okay interesting
Well firstly, yeah I do think about myself? Idk what else I would think about?? I guess unless you’re literally just having a wank to porn … but even then it’s like at least a little bit about you and your fantasies too
And obviously I just think about girls haha … the thought of being with a guy just disgusts me
I mean I am very much a lesbian. We’ve established this
This is interesting though
‘She said she does think about herself having sex,’ I said.
Rooney nodded, though she’d started adjusting her hair so I couldn’t read her expression. ‘Yeah. I mean, that’s what most people do, I think.’
Georgia Warr
i won’t tell rooney this one, this is just a question from me
do you fantasise about other people?? like real people? like if you get a crush or meet someone really hot, do you fantasise about having sex with them????
Felipa Quintana
Georgia how come you wanna know all this?
Are you okay??
Are you and Jason having SEX
Oh god I don’t know if I want to know
Georgia Warr
calm down i’m not having sex
just trying to understand some stuff
Felipa Quintana
Okay
Yeah I guess I do sometimes
Not eeeevery single hot person I meet but if I really liked someone …
I mean sometimes I just can’t help it I guess haha?
‘What are you saying to her?’ Rooney asked.
I was staring at my phone screen.
And then I chucked it across my bed.
‘This has to be a fucking joke,’ I blurted.
Rooney paused. ‘What?’
I sat up, pushing the covers off my body. ‘Everyone has to be fucking JOKING.’
‘What d’you –’
‘People are really out there just … thinking about having sex all the time and they can’t even help it?’ I spluttered. ‘People have dreams about it because they want it that much? How the – I’m losing it. I thought all the movies were exaggerating, but you’re all really out there just craving genitals and embarrassment. This has to be some kind of huge joke.’
There was a long silence.
Rooney cleared her throat. ‘I guess we’re not wank fantasy sisters.’
‘For fuck’s sake, Rooney.’
I don’t think this conversation had gone to a place that either of us were expecting it to.
I’d never fantasised about myself having sex. And that was different from most people. I was different. How had I never realised this before?
Picturing fanfic characters having sex? Great. Fine. Sexy. But picturing myself having sex with anyone, guy, girl, whoever, didn’t interest me.
No – it was more than that. It was an immediate fucking turn-off.
Was that what Sunil had told me about? Was that how he felt?
‘I don’t really know what to say or how to help,’ Rooney said. Then, with more sincerity than I was used to from Rooney, she followed up with, ‘Don’t do anything you don’t want to do, OK?’
‘… OK.’
‘I m
ean with Jason.’ She looked so serious all of a sudden, and I realised how rare it was for me to see an expression like that on Rooney’s face. ‘Just don’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. Please.’
‘Yeah. OK.’
Felipa Quintana
Hey, you sure you’re okay? This was a weird conversation
Georgia Warr
i’m okay
sorry
this was weird
Felipa Quintana
I don’t mind!!! I love weird
I hope I helped??
Georgia Warr
you did
‘So … I guess this is properly a date, then,’ I said to Jason over our pancakes.
Our third date was at a pancake café. It was situated up a hill about a ten-minute walk out of Durham’s town centre and was so tiny that I felt claustrophobic. That was probably why I was so uncomfortable, I reasoned.
My statement seemed to fluster him for a moment, but eventually he cracked a smile. ‘I guess it is.’
He’d made an effort today, just like I had. His hair was extra fluffy, and he was wearing a fashionable Adidas sweatshirt with his usual black jeans.
‘Did the other two times count?’ I asked.
‘Hm … I don’t know. Maybe the second one?’
‘Yes. Us getting kicked out of the cinema then me getting a migraine does sound like a pretty good first date.’
‘One to tell the grandkids, I suppose.’ As soon as he said it, he looked very embarrassed, unsure whether this was an appropriate joke to make yet. I laughed to put him at ease.
We ate our pancakes and talked. We talked about the play, about our courses, about the upcoming Bailey Ball, which I’d managed to score Pip and Jason guest tickets to. We talked about politics and decorating our bedrooms and the new Pokémon game that was coming out soon. God, it was easy to talk to Jason.
That was all it took to ease my doubts. To stop thinking about that conversation with Rooney and Pip. To forget about what Sunil had told me.
Jason and I laughed about some little joke. And I thought – maybe. Maybe it could work if I just tried one more time.
‘You know what Rooney said?’ I said to Jason once we’d made it back to college. We were sitting in his corridor’s kitchen, and Jason had already made me a hot chocolate.
Jason stirred sugar into his tea. ‘What?’
I had made the decision on the walk back here to take my shot. Despite what Rooney had concluded at the end of our chat, I needed to treat this situation realistically – I was going to have to make an effort to force myself to like Jason. But I could do that, right? I could do it.
‘She thought it was weird we hadn’t kissed yet.’
OK, that wasn’t exactly what she’d said just before our big sex conversation. But it was what she’d implied.
Jason stopped stirring his tea. For a moment, his face was unreadable.
Then he continued stirring.
‘Did she?’ he said, with a small twitch of his mouth.
‘I think she’s had a lot more relationships than us, though,’ I said with an awkward chuckle.
‘Has she?’ Jason responded, again unreadable.
‘Yeah.’
Shit. Was I making this weird? I was making this weird.
‘Well …’ Jason tapped the spoon on the side of his mug. ‘That’s … I mean, everyone does these things at different paces. We don’t need to rush it.’
I nodded. ‘Yeah. True.’
OK. That’s fine. We didn’t need to kiss today. I could try again another day.
Relief washed over me.
Wait, no.
I couldn’t give up that easily, could I?
Fuck.
Why was this so fucking hard?
Rooney had said it just happened. But if I didn’t do anything, nothing would happen. If I didn’t try, I’d be like this forever.
Jason finished making his tea. We’d decided to go chill in his room for a bit with a movie – it was a late Sunday afternoon and that felt like the thing to do.
But just as I went to pull open the door, someone on the other side pushed it towards me so fast that I tripped backwards over my own feet and fell on to Jason and his boiling mug of tea.
We didn’t go down, but the tea went everywhere.
The person who’d opened the door backed away immediately with an apologetic ‘Sorry, I’ll come back in a bit.’ I was only lightly splashed, and I was still wearing my coat anyway. I turned to Jason, who had sat down on a nearby chair, to survey the damage.
His jumper was soaked. But that didn’t seem to bother him – he was staring, alarmed, at his left hand, which had also been covered in tea. Fresh, boiling tea.
‘Oh fuck,’ I said.
‘Yeah,’ he said, just staring at his hand.
‘Does that hurt?’
‘Er … slightly.’
‘Cold water,’ I said immediately. I grabbed his wrist, pulled him over towards the sink, turned on the cold tap, and held his hand under the water.
Jason just stared, dumbfounded. We waited, letting the icy water do its work.
After a moment, he said, ‘I was looking forward to that tea.’
I let out a sigh of relief. If he was making jokes, it probably wasn’t too bad.
‘Does tea wash out?’ He looked down at the stained fabric, and then just chuckled. ‘I’ll look it up.’
‘I’m really sorry,’ I blurted out, realising that this was probably my fault.
Jason nudged me with his elbow.
We were standing very close in front of the sink.
‘It wasn’t your fault. That guy who came in, he’s in my corridor. I swear he never looks where he’s going. I’ve bumped into him like five times.’
‘Are you – is it OK? We don’t need to go to A&E or anything?’
‘I think it’s fine. I should probably just stand here for a few minutes, though.’
We fell into silence again, listening to the sound of running water.
Then Jason said, ‘Er, you don’t have to hold my hand if you don’t want to.’
I was still holding his wrist, keeping his hand under the tap. I quickly let go, but then realised that maybe that had been a sort-of-flirty line, and he wanted me to keep holding his hand … or maybe he didn’t and it didn’t mean anything? I wasn’t sure. It was too late.
I turned my head to find him staring down at me. He quickly looked away, but almost immediately turned back again so that we were holding each other’s gaze.
It was like a siren suddenly going off everywhere around me.
Like a burglar alarm that wakes you up so hard you can’t stop shaking for half an hour.
Looking back, it was almost hilarious.
Whenever someone tried to kiss me, I went headfirst into a fight or flight response.
His eyes focused on my lips, then darted back up. He wasn’t like Tommy. He was trying very hard to work out whether this was something I wanted. He was looking for the signals. Had I been giving off the signals? Maybe it would have been easier for him to just ask, but how do people phrase that in a non-cheesy way? And to be honest, I was glad he didn’t ask, because what would I have said?
No. I would have said no, because it turned out I just couldn’t lie to anyone except myself.
As he moved towards me, only a fraction of an inch, I imagined the Countdown timer music starting to play.
I wanted to try.
I wanted to want to kiss him.
But I didn’t actually want to kiss him.
But maybe I should do it anyway.
But I didn’t want to.
But maybe I wouldn’t know until I tried.
But I knew that I already knew.
I already knew what I felt.
And Jason could tell.
He moved back again, clearly embarrassed. ‘Uh … sorry. Wrong moment.’
‘No,’ I found myself saying. ‘Go on.’
I wanted him to just do it. I
wanted him to rip the plaster off. Yank the bone back into shape. Fix me.
But I already knew there was nothing to fix.
I was always going to be like this.
He met my eyes, questioning. Then he leant in and pressed his lips to mine.
My first kiss was with Jason Farley-Shaw in the November of my first year of university, standing in front of a college kitchen sink.
As much of a romantic as I was, I hadn’t given much thought to what my first kiss would be like. Looking back, that probably should have been an indicator of me not really wanting to kiss anyone, but years of films, music, TV, peer pressure, and my own craving for a big love story had brainwashed me into believing this was going to be something amazing, as long as I gave it a shot.
It was not amazing.
In fact, I hated it. I think I would have felt less uncomfortable if someone had dared me to start singing on public transport.
It was not Jason’s fault that it was not amazing. I didn’t have anyone to compare him to, obviously, but objectively, he was perfectly fine at kissing. He didn’t do it too deep or forcefully. There were no teeth incidents, or, God forbid, tongue.
I knew what sorts of feelings kissing was supposed to bring up. I’d read hundreds, possibly thousands of fanfics by this point. Kissing someone you like was supposed to make your head spin, your stomach twist, your heart speed up, and you were supposed to enjoy it.
I didn’t feel any of that. I just felt a deep, empty dread in the pit of my stomach. I hated how close he was. I hated the way his lips felt against mine. I hated the fact that he wanted to do this.
It only lasted for a few seconds.
But those were some very uncomfortable seconds for me.
And, from the look on his face, they were for him too.
‘You look like that was terrible,’ I found myself saying. I didn’t know what else to say but the truth by this point.
‘So do you,’ said Jason.
‘Oh.’
Jason looked away with a pained expression. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.
‘Well, I fucked that up,’ I said.
He shook his head immediately. ‘No, it’s my fault. Sorry. Shit. It was the wrong moment.’
I wanted to laugh. I wished I could explain just how much it was my fault.
Maybe I should try to explain.
But Jason ended up speaking first.
‘I don’t think you’re into me,’ he said.
When he looked at me, it was like he was pleading. Begging me to tell him otherwise.