My Dating Disasters Diary

by Liz Rettig

  Angela returned at 9.45 completely sober and going on about what a fun time she’d had. I give up. Totally.

  MONDAY AUGUST 16TH

  First day of school. At registration Liz and I were told that there’s a new girl called Stephanie who’s starting tomorrow and we’d have to look after her for the first week. Not looking forward to this as she comes from a really posh private boarding school and will be totally stuck up, but it’s only for a week and then we don’t need to have anything more to do with her, I suppose.

  There’s also a new boy who started today. Everyone – all the girls anyway – are talking about how fit he is, and he is definitely very good looking but Gary says he thinks he’s a bit of a tosser. Like Liz and me, Gary will have to put up with the new boy for a week since he’s been told to look after him. And maybe longer than that – Ferguson is letting the new boy join the football team just because he says he was in one at his last school. According to Gary he played five a side with him at lunch time and he’s useless. Maybe Gary is just jealous though: Rebecca told me loads of girls were watching them play and it was obvious they were all only interested in the new boy.

  Saw Chris at break. He was with Gary and Ian so Liz and I wandered up to chat. We talked for a bit about how pissed off we were that the holidays were over and moaned about our new timetables. Chris didn’t say much but kept looking at me and smiling, obviously pleased to see me.

  Didn’t see him again until home time, when he caught up with me at the school gates and asked if I wanted to go to his place and play a new Xbox game he’d just got hold of, Infernal Invasion Two. However, I said ‘No’ as I still haven’t really got over how he treated me when he was going out with Emily.

  But I couldn’t help feeling a pang of regret as I watched him go off without me. Wanted to run after him shouting, ‘Stop, Chris, I’ve changed my mind.’ But I didn’t.

  Felt my eyes tear up as he turned the corner out of sight. Infernal Invasion One was a brilliant game with fabulous graphics and I’ve heard Two is even better. Now it would probably be weeks before I’d have a chance to play. It was just so frustrating.

  TUESDAY AUGUST 17TH

  As well as being rich, Stephanie is really nice looking with gorgeous streaked blonde hair (not a single root showing), a fantastic figure and what looks like a natural tan, although she later told us it was Saint Tropez.

  Liz and I disliked her on sight, although not because we were jealous of course. We asked her why someone like her had come to our rubbish school if her parents had money.

  Stephanie said, ‘Mum suddenly decided she didn’t agree with elitist private education.’ But then she laughed. ‘Actually I was expelled for shagging the gardener’s son in the greenhouse.’

  I stared at her, shocked. ‘You did it with someone? In the greenhouse?’

  ‘Yeah – should have done it in the potting shed.’ She giggled. ‘Less see-through. But we, erm, got bit carried away. Mmm, he was really hot. Even if he did smell of compost.’

  Maybe Stephanie wasn’t going to be that stuck-up after all. I wondered if she’d really had sex with the gardener’s son or was just saying that for a laugh. I’ve never met anyone who’s actually had sex and admitted it.

  I suppose she might have done it – after all, she’s a year older than us. She should be in the year above but apparently her school hadn’t bothered about academic stuff, just how to eat posh food and walk like a model, so she was made to start in the fourth year.

  Asked Liz about it. She thinks maybe Stephanie was serious. And besides, a lot of posh girls liked sex.

  I wondered if we could get her to talk to us about it. Not that I’m interested of course. OK, I’m just a bit curious. I mean, we’ve had sex education and all that but although Mrs Brown, the biology teacher, said we could ask questions, no one actually asked the kind of stuff you’d really want to know. Like, if you do it with him will he tell all his friends? Also, should you talk to him while he’s doing it? If so, what about? And what do you say afterwards? Then there’s the whole problem about the next time. I mean, suppose you’ve done it once just to find out what it’s like, will he expect you to definitely do it again even if you’re not curious any more? Would it be really rude to say no, given that you’re not a virgin any longer anyway and haven’t really got anything to lose? And will your parents somehow know you’ve done it just by looking at you, the way they used to know when you stole the last chocolate biscuit meant for visitors even though you denied it?

  Well, you couldn’t ask Mrs Brown all that, could you?

  WEDNESDAY AUGUST 18TH

  It was raining at lunch time today so we had to spend most of our time in the social area, which is a large hall with nothing in it – not even seats – except for an ancient music player and, of course, a CCTV camera to spy on us. Social area my arse.

  Stephanie leaned against one of the large blue pillars and scanned the hall, her eyes resting mainly on the boys, I noticed. She shrugged, unimpressed. ‘Not much talent here, is there?’

  ‘Not a lot,’ Liz and I agreed.

  Someone was playing a CD and Stephanie started swaying rhythmically to the music. I asked her if she liked dancing and she said she did. So I asked, ‘What kind of dancing? Modern stuff? Ballet? Tap?’

  ‘Pole actually.’

  Liz and I stared at her.

  ‘Want to see?’ Stephanie continued.

  We nodded.

  Stephanie told the boy who’d put the music on to turn the volume up full, then turned to the pillar she’d been leaning on and started, slowly at first, to gyrate her hips sexily. Of course everyone turned to look at her, especially the boys.

  Gradually her movements became faster and wilder as she worked her way up, down and around the ‘pole’, swaying, thrusting and flinging her arms back like she was actually doing it with a pole instead of a person. Most of the boys just stood there gawping at her like they couldn’t believe their luck, though some whistled and shouted encouragement. The girls mainly watched in silence, but some giggled, and others huffed disapprovingly. Liz and I looked on admiringly. Stephanie could definitely dance. And she didn’t seem to care a toss what people thought of her.

  Unfortunately old Miss McElwee, the home economics teacher who everyone keeps thinking will retire but never does, marched in and turned off the music. She rounded on Stephanie. What did she think she was doing making a spectacle of herself with this disgusting exhibition? Had she no sense of propriety? This was a disgrace.

  On and on she went, but Stephanie didn’t seem bothered at all. When Stephanie finally managed to get a word in, she just said coolly, ‘Keep your knickers on. It’s not as though I did a strip. I was just dancing, for God’s sake.’

  I thought for a moment Miss McElwee was going to have a stroke: she went all reddish purple and seemed at first to choke on her reply, but eventually she said she was going to report this incident to Mr Smith and Stephanie was never to use that word to her again.

  ‘What word?’ Stephanie asked with a wide-eyed innocent expression. ‘Dancing?’

  Miss McElwee wasn’t going to fall for that and be made to say the knicker word so she just said, ‘You know very well what word, young lady.’ Then she marched off.

  Before she got to the door, Stephanie shouted after her, ‘Oh, you meant knickers, didn’t you? Knickers is the word I’ve not to say again. Is that right? Is it knickers? It is knickers, isn’t it?’

  Miss McElwee hurried out of the door as though she hadn’t heard. But everyone knew she had heard what Stephanie said. And also, of course, the laughter.

  After that lots of people, mainly boys, came over to say how impressed they were with Stephanie’s performance. However, Liz and I tensed when Shelly and two of her pals wandered by. Shelly didn’t say anything directly to Stephanie, just glanced at her; then, turning to her friends, she said loudly enough for people round about to hear clearly, ‘Slapper.’

  Stephanie didn’t respond directly to She
lly. Instead she stared for quite a long while at her mean little mouth, then said, ‘Oh, it talks. It must be a mouth. And here I was thinking it was a ferret’s arse.’ She paused. ‘Much the same crap comes out of it though.’

  Everyone round about laughed at that and Shelly, unable to better Stephanie insult-wise, stomped off, furious. When we’d stopped giggling Liz and I looked at each other and nodded. Yes, Stephanie was going to be our friend. Definitely.

  SATURDAY AUGUST 21ST

  Liz and I went over to Stephanie’s house for the first time today. It was amazing. Really huge, especially as it was just for her and her mum, who’s divorced, although Stephanie told us she also has a brother at boarding school.

  Her mum seemed nice but was so glamorous it was difficult not to feel a bit nervous at first. She just didn’t look like a normal mum at all. I mean, she was wearing a tight black pencil skirt and high heels with a silky cream top on a Saturday afternoon. Well, you couldn’t go to the supermarket or mop the kitchen floor in that, could you?

  She was the sort of mum you could imagine actually having sex still. Not that I usually imagine people’s mums having sex, of course – I’m not weird – but all I’m saying is, it’s possible Stephanie’s mum still does it. Maybe more than possible, as Stephanie says she has a boyfriend called Pierre, a French musician, who stays over quite a lot and sleeps in the same bedroom as her mum.

  Stephanie’s bedroom was fantastic, with a king-sized bed, huge walk-in wardrobe and ensuite bathroom all to herself. Couldn’t help feeling a bit jealous and confessed as much to Stephanie, but she said, ‘You and Liz are the lucky ones. You’ve still got your dads living with you. I’m the innocent victim of a broken home.’

  Felt awful then and started to apologize. ‘Oh God, sorry, Stephanie, I didn’t think—’

  ‘Yeah, it’s really tough,’ Stephanie interrupted. ‘Last summer I had to spend two weeks in the south of France with Mum, then another two cruising the Med with Dad. Christmas holidays will be hectic as well: skiing with Mum at Klosters, then off to Tenerife the following week with Dad.’ She laughed. ‘Bloody exhausting.’

  Hmm. Being an innocent victim of a broken home didn’t sound too bad. At least if your parents were loaded.

  THURSDAY AUGUST 26TH

  Home economics was quite fun today. We were making a fruit salad, and since this is dead easy, Miss McElwee said we should try to make it look as attractive as possible, maybe by doing some kind of picture or design with it.

  I made a kid’s salad with a smiley face, using apples and grapes for the mouth and eyes, with peach slices for cheeks. Liz made an abstract design of whorls of strawberry and chocolate sauce laced over bits of squashed fruit. She refused to identify what it was supposed to be, instead telling everyone it was a psychological test that could reveal loads about the personality of the guesser and give clues to our unconscious mind and deepest secrets.

  It just looked a bit of a mess to me, to be honest, and I wasn’t keen to guess what it was supposed to be in case it really did reveal some shameful secret about me, like the fact I still sometimes slept with my stuffed toy, Gerry the Giraffe, but Liz insisted.

  ‘To be honest, Liz, it doesn’t remind me of anything really – but, OK, maybe, um, a butterfly.’

  ‘Aha! That means you are presently undergoing a huge change in your psychosocial development – a total metamorphosis, no less, which you are very anxious about. Or it could mean you just get bored easily and lack concentration. It’s difficult to say. Psychology isn’t an exact science. I’ll have to run further tests on you.’

  ‘No thanks.’

  Johnny, a sleazer who fancies Liz (and every other girl with big boobs), had been listening to our conversation. He said, ‘Nah, no way it’s a butterfly. Looks like breasts to me. Yeah’ – he pointed a finger at two grapes in the bowl – ‘see, these are nipples. Right? Definitely nipples.’

  Liz scowled at him before replying, ‘Hmm, interesting.’

  ‘So what does that mean?’ Johnny said, smirking. ‘I’ve got a really enormous sex drive, right?’

  ‘Not quite. It means, actually, that you have a fixation with your mum so you’ll never be able to form mature sexual relationships with girls. Sorry.’

  More people had gathered round our table now to see what was going on and were laughing at Johnny’s indignation. ‘What’s fixation mean? You saying I fancy my mum? That’s rubbish. Total crap. Psychology’s crap. You can’t say stuff like that. It’s – it’s disgusting. Yeah, disgusting.’

  As Johnny is well known for using dirty language all the time, this made people laugh even more as he stomped off, red faced and still protesting. Liz turned to Stephanie. ‘Your turn. Let’s see what the test reveals about your personality.’

  Stephanie examined Liz’s creation carefully for nearly a whole minute before saying, ‘Looks like someone’s been sick in a bowl.’

  Everyone looked at it then. We all nodded. Yeah, that’s exactly what it looked like. Stephanie’s comments put an end to Liz’s test as no one could see anything else now. The small crowd was about to wander off when Stephanie said, ‘Wait, I’ve got another test. OK, what does this remind you of?’

  She put her hand behind her, grabbed the dessert bowl she’d been working on and held it out in front of us. It consisted of a large peeled banana standing up vertically; it was covered in blueberry syrup and propped up at the bottom by two plums. Of course the whole thing looked totally obscene and we all howled with laughter, which unfortunately brought Miss McElwee over.

  She was furious and ranted on at Stephanie. What was the meaning of this? How dare she make such a lewd and disgusting thing? She wouldn’t get away with this. Stephanie would be reported to Mr Smith, who would no doubt want to have a word with her parents. She needn’t think she could defile this home economics kitchen with this disgusting pornography. Oh yes, that was what it was. Pornography no less. She wouldn’t stand for it.

  All the ranting just made everyone laugh more – except for Stephanie, who stared innocently at Miss McElwee, protesting that she had no idea what she was talking about. It was just a banana and plum pudding, her favourite actually. She would have liked to do some fancy design but hadn’t been able to think of anything. She’d never had much imagination really.

  ‘Don’t play the innocent with me, young lady,’ Miss McElwee cut in. ‘You know exactly what I’m talking about.’

  Stephanie stared hard at her creation, pretending she was trying but failing to make out what on earth Miss McElwee was talking about.

  ‘No, miss. I’ve no idea. Really.’ She stared hard again, then her expression changed to one of pretend shock. ‘Oh my God. Now I see what you mean. You think it looks like … Oh God, you didn’t think that I would ever …? I mean, if you hadn’t said, I’d never have imagined it could look like a boy’s—’

  ‘Right,’ Miss McElwee interrupted. ‘That’s enough. It’s time to clear up, everyone. We’ll just forget all about this nonsense.’

  Miss McElwee hurried back to her desk, red-faced, and tried to look very busy with paperwork, but we all knew she was mortified: Stephanie had made it look as though she was the one with the dirty mind. Oh yes. School was much more fun now that Stephanie was here.

  FRIDAY AUGUST 27TH

  Chris caught up with me as I was walking home from school today.

  ‘Hi, Kelly Ann. Just wondered if you’re coming to the match tomorrow. We’re playing St Mungo’s. Should be a close thing.’

  ‘No, it’s too far away and no one else I know is going.’

  ‘That’s OK. My dad will give us both a lift. And we could maybe go for a pizza or burger afterwards.’

  Thought about it. We’ve been a bit friendlier recently and sometimes hang out together at break, but things aren’t the same. Having said that, I did let him share his lunch with me today when I forgot my money as there’s no point in being stupid about things. Mmmm – turkey and bacon panini with guacamole and mozzarella.
Delicious. And I accepted his offer to do my maths homework for me at break yesterday as I was busy copying my history homework from Liz (who was copying my biology, so it’s fair) and I know Chris can forge my handwriting. Wasn’t pleased when he deliberately put some mistakes in so I didn’t get full marks like him, but eventually accepted his explanation that our teacher would have been suspicious as I’m rubbish at maths. Or ‘not always one hundred per cent accurate’, as Chris put it.

  So yeah, sharing lunch or help with homework is OK. We’re both mature teenagers after all. But accepting a lift from his dad and spending nearly a whole day with him? No way. Not after being treated as a nuisance when he had a girlfriend.

  Eventually I said, ‘Nah, don’t think so. I’m kinda busy.’

  ‘You always used to come. To the important ones anyway. This is our last chance to get into the schools semi-final.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I used to do a lot of things, but that was before you got fed up with me hanging round you.’

  ‘I got fed up?’ Chris said. ‘You’re the one who told me—’

  ‘Only after you told Emily to tell me to shove off. You might at least have talked to me yourself.’

  ‘Kelly Ann, listen to me. I never said that. Never. Not to anyone. Because it’s not true.’

  I looked at his earnest, sincere face. Bloody Emily.

  Stupid little liar.

  MONDAY AUGUST 30TH

  Didn’t punch Emily as Chris asked me not to. Also, have decided to be more mature and feminine. Though I did confront her at break today – told her I knew what she’d done and warned her not to stick her nose in my business again.

  But she didn’t even apologize. Just said, ‘It’s not fair. You don’t want him but you won’t let anyone else have him either.’

  Honestly. Some people would never be mature enough to understand that boys and girls can just be really good friends without either of them wanting to play tonsil tennis.

  Wished now I hadn’t promised Chris not to hit her. However, I did manage to sneak a fake dog turd into her packed lunch box. It was made of brown-coloured damp clay borrowed from the art department and so realistic looking it totally put her off her sandwiches.