My Dating Disasters Diary

by Liz Rettig

  Liz can’t go as she’s been grounded this weekend because her mum found a bit of leftover Christmas pudding and two sausage rolls from the New Year party mouldering under her bed, which she says is proof that Liz hasn’t cleaned her room properly for nearly six months.

  Her mum seems to have forgotten that they were in Aberdeen over the Christmas holidays last time so the stuff was from the Christmas and New Year before that. Liz didn’t point this out and is hoping her mum won’t remember.

  SATURDAY JUNE 5TH

  Gary called me again, trying to get me to change my mind.

  ‘C’mon, Kelly Ann, it’ll be great.’

  ‘No thanks. Like I said, I’m busy,’ I lied.

  ‘OK, yeah, right. But, erm, do you know if Rebecca’s definitely coming? Has she said anything about it to you?’

  God, hasn’t he given up on this yet? He’s wasting his time with Rebecca – she’s only going because she fancies Ian, who I know for a fact won’t be interested in her because of the height thing.

  Honestly, life is so complicated once people start to fancy other people (or not) instead of just being friends. Everything was fine until all this ‘who’s hot and who’s not’ and ‘who wants to snog who or not’ started up.

  I suppose I should warn Gary and Rebecca that they’ve almost no chance but they probably wouldn’t listen to me.

  Instead I just said, ‘Yeah, she’s definitely coming. But for God’s sake don’t wear gross tight clothes. Rebecca doesn’t like them. And ditch the tsunami hairstyle.’

  Gary hung up soon after and I decided to spend the rest of the afternoon on my PlayStation. Yeah, I was glad I wasn’t going to the party. I’d have a nice quiet time just doing exactly what I wanted. After all, I was quite capable of amusing myself for one day, wasn’t I?

  Mum and Dad are at the pub and even Angela and her sad boyfriend have gone to the pictures and won’t be back until ten so I’m in by myself. There is absolutely nothing on the TV (all fifty-eight channels), no one is on MSN, and I am just so totally bored. Have been on my PlayStation for hours but I’m sick of it, and anyway my eyes are red and thumbs nearly numb.

  To amuse myself, tried seeing if I could drink a bottle of Irn Bru while standing on my head (yes), whether I could do a no-handed cartwheel (no), and counting the number of freckles on my face (sixteen). Decided to join up the freckles with a felt-tip pen to see what kind of pattern they made. Actually a lot like an aeroplane. Hmm, interesting.

  Called Gary. He didn’t answer for a while, and when he picked up the phone I could hear loud music playing and the sound of people laughing. Had to shout to make myself heard.

  ‘I’ve changed my mind, Gary – can I come over?’

  ‘Yeah, course.’

  ‘You want me to bring something? I can’t bring beer. Dad’s only got two cans left so he’d notice.’

  ‘That’s OK. Just bring loo paper.’

  ‘Loo paper?’

  ‘Too many girls. Don’t know what you lot do with it. OK, don’t answer that.’

  Quickly splashed some water on my face, put on my favourite pair of jeans and a clean T-shirt, grabbed a couple of toilet rolls and ran off to Gary’s.

  Loads of people had come so the place was crowded, even the hallway and stairs. Don’t suppose holding out two loo rolls was a very classy way to make an entrance, but Rebecca, who’d been locked in the toilet for ten minutes waiting for supplies, was relieved and grateful. So were the people queuing outside.

  Noticed that there were almost twice as many girls as boys at the party and I don’t think this was accidental. Probably Gary trying to stack the odds in his favour. The music was really good though, so I was soon enjoying myself dancing in the living room with a large group of girls. Most of the boys just hung around watching or drinking beer.

  After a while I got thirsty so Rebecca and I went to the kitchen to get some Cokes. When we got back to the living room I spotted Chris and Emily, who must have just arrived, talking to Gary.

  They both nodded ‘Hi’ to me and I nodded back, meaning to ignore them, but Gary waved us over, no doubt so he could chat up Rebecca.

  He’d taken my advice about tight clothes but had gone a bit OTT with it: his jeans were so loose and low they exposed nearly all of his pants while the crotch hung down around his knees so that he had to walk like a toddler who’d just wet himself. He’d also dyed his hair purple (Rebecca’s favourite colour) and gelled it into spikes.

  Rebecca wasn’t impressed. As she whispered to me on the way over, ‘All he needs is a pair of braces and he’d get a job as a circus clown.’

  After a quick ‘Hi, girls,’ Gary practically ignored me so he could hit on Rebecca, who kept looking longingly over at Ian (who literally didn’t see her as he scanned the room for tall girls), so I was left to make awkward conversation with Chris and Emily. After, oh, about sixty seconds of this I’d had enough, but they didn’t move off, so eventually I interrupted Gary’s desperate chat-up attempt.

  ‘So, Rebecca,’ I said, ‘how is Ben? Is he better now or are you going to have to take him to the vet again?’

  ‘No, he’s fine now,’ Rebecca said happily. ‘It was just an abscess, which cleared up with antibiotics. Vet said they’re quite common in hamsters.’

  ‘Ugh,’ Emily said. ‘You own a hamster?’ She shuddered. ‘They’re rodents, aren’t they? Like rats. I think rabbits are much nicer. I’ve got a white rabbit with big floppy ears. He’s called Flopsy and he’s gorgeous.’ She looked up at Chris. ‘Isn’t he, Chris?’

  Chris looked embarrassed, but dutifully nodded his agreement.

  Bloody hell. How can Chris fancy someone so totally wet? I looked at Emily’s simpering face. ‘I’m not that keen on rabbits. Did you know,’ I said casually, ‘that they eat their own poo?’ I glanced at Chris, who was trying to suppress a grin. ‘Don’t they, Chris?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Chris said. ‘It’s so they can digest their food twice. More efficient use of, um, resources.’

  He was grinning openly at me now and I smiled back. Emily’s simpering expression vanished and she scowled at me. Then she came closer and stared hard at me.

  ‘Did you know,’ she said, ‘that you have an aeroplane on your face?’

  Oh God.

  I checked in the bathroom mirror, and sure enough, there it was still. A very faint but, if you looked closely, definite outline of an aeroplane. Washed my face again, but although I scrubbed until it was red, the ink marks wouldn’t come off completely. I’d have to wait until they faded away.

  Decided to go home early. On the way back I thought about Emily. She likes to give everyone the impression that she’s sweet and delicate like a meringue but I was beginning to think she was as hard as a gobstopper. Maybe I should warn Chris. But no, he probably wouldn’t listen. Boys never do.

  SUNDAY JUNE 6TH

  At least my spots have nearly cleared up. The blue stuff must be working. Feel guilty now about being nasty to Angela when she had an outbreak of acne last year and I called her a pimpled, pilfering piranha. But in a way she had asked for it as she’d eaten my last Creme Egg. Well, OK, they were actually bought by Mum at the supermarket in a pack of three and could possibly therefore be seen as ‘family’ Creme Eggs, but Angela knows they’re my favourite. Still, I vowed never to insult anyone who had spots ever again if God would just make sure mine never came back.

  MONDAY JUNE 7TH

  Saw Shelly and her friends at lunch time. They were eyeing me and Liz the way a pack of vicious velociraptors size up prey before moving in for the kill, and sure enough they started making their way towards us.

  ‘Oh, Kelly Ann,’ Shelly said, ‘I hear you and Chris have fallen out.’

  ‘Well, you heard wrong. We’re just too busy to hang around together much any more.’

  ‘Oh yeah, that’s right. You need some space so all these boys who fancy you can ask you out. Right? So, er, how many so far? Bet you’re totally inundated.’

  They all gi
ggled like she was really hilarious or something. I glared at her. Then I noticed it. The normally perfect Shelly had a spot. No, several spots. Quite a lot in fact. They were small and mostly disguised with concealer and foundation but still noticeable if you looked closely.

  I said, ‘Loads actually, but not nearly as many as the number of spots on your face. Yeah. If only I’d got that many boys asking me out I’d be the most popular girl in Scotland. In the whole universe maybe.’

  I laughed and we walked away, leaving Shelly fuming. Yes! Felt great for about three seconds until I remembered my promise to God about not slagging anyone off for spots. Oh no. Maybe He would punish me with a plague of spots of my own.

  On the way home Liz tried to reason with me. She told me that a guy called Richard Dawkins, who’s a totally brilliant genius professor, has proved that God probably doesn’t exist, and says people who think that He probably does are probably ignorant or stupid or completely bonkers.

  ‘Honestly, religion’s just childish, totally illogical stupid rubbish,’ Liz said, stepping onto the busy road to avoid walking under the ladders that stretched over the pavement.

  Amotorist blasted his horn then shook his fist at her as he swerved to avoid knocking her down. Liz tutted. ‘Road rage syndrome. An increasingly common psychological phenomenon.’

  I yanked Liz back onto the pavement. ‘Get off the road, you idiot.’

  She ignored my comment and instead returned to her argument about God and spots. ‘Anyway, Kelly Ann, even if He does exist, then someone who created the entire universe – like, come on, billions of stars and gazillions of planets – well, He’s not going to be bothered about you slagging off Shelly for being spotty, now is He?’

  Yeah, it made sense. Surely if God the Creator of the Infinite Universe cared at all about how we humans behaved, then He’d concentrate on really wicked people like rapists or mass murderers. Genghis Khan or Hitler maybe. Not me.

  Hoped so anyway.

  TUESDAY JUNE 8TH

  Spots haven’t come back. Maybe Liz and Professor Dawkins are right after all and there is no God; either that or He doesn’t care about me. Thank God for that. Drew a face covered in red dots on Shelly’s English folder when she went off to the toilet near the end of the period and called it ‘Smelly Shelly the Spot Snot’. He he – childish, I know, but very satisfying.

  THURSDAY JUNE 10TH

  Spoke too soon. The spots are back, even though I’m still using the blue paste, and there are even more than before. So much for Professor Dawkins and his brilliant theories.

  Moaned to Liz about it. ‘You’re wrong, Liz. God does exist and He’s got it in for me. Just after I broke my promise and insulted Shelly my spots came back. He’s punishing me.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid. There’s probably some simple explanation. Maybe it’s psychosomatic.’

  ‘What’s that?’ I asked, hoping it wasn’t some fatal disease.

  ‘Well, that’s when you think you’re going to get spots so your brain tells your body to make them.’

  I gawped at her. ‘That’s mental, Liz.’

  ‘Not as mental as thinking God gave you spots.’

  Maybe Liz is right. Not about the psychosomatic stuff, but I suppose the spot rash could just be coincidence. I’m going to keep my promise to God next time though, just in case.

  MONDAY JUNE 14TH

  ‘So, Kelly Ann,’ Shelly said halfway through biology, ‘I suppose you’re still having trouble fighting off all these boys who’re constantly begging you to go out with them.’

  I know I should have just ignored her and walked away but I was totally fed up with her rubbishing me so found myself saying, ‘No, it’s fine actually. I just tell them I’ve already got a gorgeous boyfriend, thanks, and I’m not the kind of slapper who’d cheat on anyone.’

  Shelly flushed with annoyance about my reference to cheating slappers, which she knew was meant for her, but then her mean little mouth tightened and she said, ‘Don’t believe you. Who is this gorgeous boyfriend then?’

  ‘He’s, um, called’ – I glanced at the poster on the wall showing a family of lions – ‘Leo.’

  ‘Leo? I don’t know any Leos.’

  ‘He’s not at this school. He goes to, um, private school actually. His parents are loaded but he’s not a snob. He says he doesn’t care if mine are poor. He likes me anyway.’

  Oh God, this was getting complicated. What had I done? Fortunately the biology teacher told us all to shut up and get on with our work so I was saved from any more interrogation by Shelly.

  TUESDAY JUNE 15TH

  Of course word got round the school about the gorgeous new boyfriend I’d been keeping secret, and practically everyone wanted to know about Leo.

  Found lies falling out of my mouth like the big ugly toads in the cursed princess fairy tale.

  Leo had black hair and deep blue eyes. He played rugby and the electric guitar. We’d met in town when he bumped into me, knocking over my ice-cream cone, so he bought me another. We got talking, and he asked me out.

  On and on.

  On the way home from school Liz got at me. ‘For God’s sake, Kelly Ann. What are you doing? You’re bound to get found out.’

  ‘Oh God, Liz, I don’t know. But I can’t take it back now. I’ll just have to leave it a few days then say we fell out and I dumped him or something. I’ll sort something out.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  THURSDAY JUNE 17TH

  Our first date was to Pizza Hut. We had pepperoni and spicy chicken pizza, with chocolate ice cream to follow. Leo insisted on paying for both of us because he gets fifty pounds pocket money a week and more if he needs it.

  We didn’t snog on our first date because Leo respects me too much, but after our third date at a proper Italian restaurant with tablecloths and candles, I let him kiss me. Now he can’t keep his hands off me he fancies me so much.

  The lies are getting easier – it’s actually quite fun. Some people are a bit jealous of course, but everyone wants to hear about my perfect boyfriend. I’m starting to really like him too.

  FRIDAY JUNE 18TH

  ‘You’ve got to stop this stupid Leo thing, Kelly Ann,’ Liz said. ‘You need to focus on finding a real boyfriend.’

  ‘Why? Leo’s much better than a real boyfriend.’

  ‘That’s mental. How can he be better than a real one?’

  ‘Well, he never tells fart jokes for a start, his room doesn’t smell of sweaty socks and he wouldn’t ever cheat on me. Bet you don’t know any boys like that.’

  Liz sighed. ‘OK, but there is just one tiny problem with Leo.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He doesn’t exist.’

  I shrugged. ‘Nobody’s perfect.’

  SATURDAY JUNE 19TH

  Was dreaming about Leo when Liz called to see if I wanted to watch a DVD at her house.

  I said, ‘Sorry, Liz, Leo and I are going to the pictures tonight.’

  ‘Right, that’s it, Kelly Ann. This has gone too far. I’m coming over to sort this out right now.’

  ‘You have to stop this Leo thing, Kelly Ann. It’s totally insane.’

  ‘Why? I’m really enjoying it. Leo’s fun.’

  ‘It’s lying. Which is, well, immoral,’ Liz said huffily.

  I shrugged.

  ‘It’s not good for your psychological health. You could totally lose touch with reality, then you’d turn psychotic and have to be locked up like Hannibal Lecter.’

  ‘Bloody hell, Liz, I’m just making up a few stories about a boyfriend. That doesn’t mean I’m going to start slaughtering people then eating their livers with fava beans.’

  ‘You’re bound to get found out,’ Liz warned. ‘Shelly’s already asking people how come no one has ever seen this Leo and saying you’re a liar. If this gets out then you’ll be the laughing stock of the whole school.’

  Felt my face flush scarlet and my stomach twist at the thought of it. It was true. Sooner or later people were bound to get
suspicious. If they ever found out I was a sad person who’d invented a pretend boyfriend I’d die of shame. Liz was right. I’d have to get rid of Leo.

  MONDAY JUNE 21ST

  Told everyone Leo had died suddenly in a tragic skiing accident and I was too upset to talk about it. People were really nice to me – except for Shelly, of course, who said, ‘Skiing accident! In June? Yeah, right.’

  I said, ‘Water-skiing accident.’

  Shelly still doesn’t believe me but she can’t prove anything. As Liz said, ‘It’s difficult to prove someone never existed after all. That’s the problem with being an atheist too.’

  WEDNESDAY JUNE 23RD

  People seem to have forgotten all about me and Leo already. No one mentions him any more or even gives me sympathetic looks. Like he never existed or something, which I know he didn’t, but they don’t know that, do they?

  Moaned to Liz, ‘I really miss Leo, Liz.’

  Liz sighed. ‘Leo wasn’t real, Kelly Ann. Tables and chairs are real. You and I are real. Leo was a figment of your imagination. Atotal fantasy, like pixies, leprechauns, Santa and lipstick that stays on for sixteen hours without smudging.’

  ‘Yeah, I suppose so.’

  ‘What you need is a real boyfriend.’

  ‘No one seems to fancy me.’

  ‘Rubbish. Somebody will. Even really ugly, stupid people manage to find someone eventually.’ I scowled at her and she added hurriedly, ‘Not that you are, of course.’

  ‘Thanks, Liz.’

  Liz wisely changed the subject: she started talking about her birthday tomorrow and the iPod her mum had promised her. I wasn’t all that comfortable talking about this in case I somehow let slip the secret celebration plans.

  She’s been told she won’t be having the usual big family party with all her aunts, uncles and cousins coming round as everyone’s too busy this year. However, for her fifteenth I know her parents are actually planning a surprise party bigger than all the rest but they have sworn me to secrecy. Her mum has asked me to take her to my house after school until six o’clock, then make our way over. When we get into the living room everyone will be hiding. I have to say, ‘You must be disappointed you’re not getting a birthday party this year, Liz.’