by Chloe Seager
“Well, maybe not Willie.”
SUNDAY, 7 SEPTEMBER
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 12:46 P.M.
Staring into the cold, harsh, glaring light of the computer screen, which may be the guiding light leading me towards my new life... Beginning the stalk. Hmm... Going through my “friends,” looking for boys I don’t normally speak to.
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 2:05 P.M.
As it turns out, I’ve actually only added people I do normally speak to. Or Leon’s friends. And I know that I definitely don’t want to date any of them.
Well, plan over.
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 4:33 P.M.
Mum has been ranting on about how “tired” she is and how her “glands are up.” As is the case most of the time. She thinks she has a “mild case of ME.” I’m not going to tell her otherwise, though; her hypochondria makes her more lenient when it comes to letting me stay off school. I thought I’d better lay the groundwork now, in case my sty doesn’t disappear by Thursday, so I shuffled into Mum’s room with a blanket wrapped around my shoulders.
“Mum.” I coughed. “I think I caught your ME. I think you should consider keeping me off college next week.”
“You can’t catch ME,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand, as if to say, You don’t understand what I’m going through.
She is so annoying.
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 8:42 P.M.
Steph called:
“Did you start on your resolutions yet?”
“Yes, but you were right. Everyone I’m ‘friends’ with I already know sort of well enough in real life to know I wouldn’t want to date them.”
“Ah.”
“My plan was fatally flawed.”
She munched away on something down the end of the phone.
“What about the people you haven’t added? No offense but you’ve only got about three hundred friends.”
“... I’ll try again tomorrow.”
MONDAY, 8 SEPTEMBER
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 12:22 P.M.
Back to the drawing screen. I’m discovering people I never even knew existed...who are apparently in our year at school... (Who is Umar Khan? Or Brian Fielding?) And there are lots of people I’ve seen around but never had ANY interaction with.
... Am I hugely anti-social?
Let’s not dwell too much on that.
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 3:59 P.M.
I have found a couple of possibilities... Laurence Myer and David Hudson. An elusive pair of technology nerds. You don’t see them often, but when you do it’s usually together and it’s ALWAYS on a computer. I overheard a conversation between them once and it was about the relative differences between Android and iOS operating systems. No idea what that actually means, but I sense that they’re the kind of guys who will grow up to make millions inventing something to do with algorithms that no one else understands.
Adding them both. I’m actually kind of nervous. What if they don’t accept?
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 4:04 P.M.
I needn’t have worried. Four minutes ago, Laurence Myer accepted my request, and three minutes ago, David Hudson accepted.
Evidence: Technology nerds get back to you quickly. Probably because they are always attached to their phones and/or their laptops.
I couldn’t choose between them, so I’m going with Laurence Myer because he accepted first. As solid a reason as any. After going through his pictures for a while, I am astounded by the fact that I’ve never really noticed Laurence. He is, actually, quite attractive. My love for Leon has made me blind to everyone else around me. I save the most normal-looking picture of Laurence I can find for my case study, cropping out everyone else around him and enlarging his head.
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 9:00 P.M.
I was feeling really pleased with myself until I spoke to Steph:
“Steph, I’ve done it. I’ve set off on an important journey.”
“Where are you going?”
“To a new beginning.”
“You’re beginning a journey towards a new beginning?”
“Yes.”
“So you spoke to Laurence Myer?”
“Oh, no. I added him, though. We’ve achieved virtual friendship.”
“Woah! Slow down, Emma!!”
“Oh. Really?”
“NO. Talk to him!!!”
“... I feel like that might be a step too far, for tonight.”
“Yes, you’re right, you might end up achieving virtual pregnancy.”
“... Fine.”
Maybe he won’t be online.
Of course he’s online. OK, here goes... I’m going in for the kill.
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 9:46 P.M.
Our conversation, which I have recorded (with commentary):
Emma: hey
Laurence: hi
Emma: how are you?
Laurence: im good
There is a long pause.
Laurence: you?
Emma: im good thank you, what are you up to?
Laurence: just listening to some music
Emma: what you listening to?
Laurence: nickelback
Emma: ah cool, I haven’t listened to them in ages...
Because the only reason I’ve ever listened to them is that my dad used to play them, and my ears would bleed liquid mediocrity. How old is this boy, sixteen or fifty-six?
Laurence: do you have any of their stuff? I would download it but I have no money and I’m morally opposed to piracy and I hate the adverts on Spotify
That was way too much information. I suppose some of Dad’s beige songs might still be cluttering up this ancient laptop.
Emma: probably somewhere
Laurence: could you send me anything?
Emma: ermmm, hang on...
I’m in the middle of feeling a bit judgmental and superior, when something awful happens... Just as I’m about to send him a song Mum screams something about a missing eyeshadow, which I know is at the bottom of my handbag. I turn from the screen and call back that I have no idea where it is. I turn back and click “paste” but instead of pasting “How You Remind Me” into the conversation, I end up pasting the last thing I copied.
The enlarged picture of his head.
I sit for a second in utter disbelief.
“No. No. No. No. No. No. NO NO NO!!! Cancel! CANCEL!!!”
Laurence: whats that?
Emma: that...that is a picture of you
Laurence: ok
Think of an excuse!! Think of an excuse!! Oh God...there IS no excuse! What excuse could I POSSIBLY have?!
Emma: I was just zooming in to see your teeth, I noticed before you have very nice teeth
There is a long pause.
In fact, that’s sort of why I added you, I was wondering if I could have the name of your dentist
Laurence: er, I don’t know her name
Emma: oh well. Ok
Laurence: ok
Oh my God, just STOP TALKING.
Emma: got to dash
Got to dash?
Laurence: ok. Bye
Emma: byeeeee :)
Yes, the smiley face at the end makes everything better. Much less scary.
Well, after that I may have ruled out Laurence Myer as a potential case study. URGH. Now I feel worse than I did before. Just when I thought my self-confidence couldn’t sink any lower, I fail to get a date with a Nickelback fan.
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 10:04 P.M.
Oh God. If I can’t even speak normally online, what hope do I have in real life?! All physical awkwardness (like how long you’re supposed to make eye contact without coming off as a psychopath) has been removed AND you get as much time as you need to think of a witty response. Even if you wait like
ten minutes or something you can just pretend you were “getting a cup of tea” and not frantically trying to sound clever. And it’s not even like I was that anxious. That idiotic interaction is me at my most relaxed and most likely to come off as a real person.
No wonder Leon isn’t speaking to me. I wouldn’t speak to me, either.
Going to bed. At ten. What is my life?
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 10:38 P.M.
I can’t even sleep. Mum is snoring in the next room. Usually, I would make a loud noise to wake her up, then pretend it was her “night terrors” but I can’t be bothered. I don’t even have the energy to cry anymore. I’m exhausted, all the time. I never stop thinking about Leon. He never stops being there. One time I made myself stop thinking about him for a week or so. That was exhausting in itself. And then I fell asleep from the exertion and just dreamed about him all night anyway.
TUESDAY, 9 SEPTEMBER
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 6:52 P.M.
Today I got to work on resolution 1B (stop isolating myself) and walked round to Faith’s. I was quite afraid of leaving the house and lingered in the corridor for twelve minutes until Mum pushed me outside and locked the door. I’d forgotten what our street looked like. My irises felt quite assaulted by the amount of natural brightness, and I was feeling exceptionally beaten down by the time I rang the doorbell.
Faith’s mum answered, dressed in an apron that said, “My Husband Wears the Pants. I Just Tell Him Which Ones to Wear.” I couldn’t help but think that my mum would have doused it in petrol and thrown it, with its frills and questionable presentation of gender roles, on a bonfire.
“Hi, Emma,” she said, tentatively, as if I might start crying at any moment. (Did she see the status, too?)
“Hi, Lillian.”
“Faith’s upstairs, painting.” She smiled.
When I came into her room, Faith’s blond curls were covered in flecks of purple and red. She was wearing a long blue shirt, also caked in paint, and she was, very earnestly, decorating her wall with a giant flower.
“Hello, Georgia O’Keeffe,” I said.
For a moment she said nothing, and then, “Thank you, Emma.”
“Thank you for what?”
“Georgia O’Keeffe painted flowers—though only about 10 percent of her works were actually flowers, you know—and was plagued by accusations that they were vaginas. She insisted time and time again that they weren’t. I try to paint an expression of my sexuality; a giant, purple-and-red flower-vagina, in the middle of my wall, and my mother comes in and says, ‘What a pretty flower, Faith.’”
It looks like I’m not the only one who’s been too isolated this summer.
“I’m not sure pretty is the word I’d use. It’s a bit of a monster,” I remarked.
She put down her brush then, and looked at me. I looked at her. We both looked at the flower and burst out laughing.
Reasons That Faith Is One of the Best Humans I Know
She hardly ever moans, and keeps her bad moods to herself, usually channeling them into something creative. I have no idea how. Imagine having a feeling and not examining it over and over until you’ve turned it completely inside out and bored your friends stiff with it.
Despite her parents not accepting her being gay (granted, she hasn’t definitively told them yet), she is one of the most accepting people I’ve ever met.
She has a strong moral compass. (Something I’m still developing. But as my teacher in Year 1 told me when I was trying and failing to tie my shoelaces, we all develop at different rates and that’s OK.)
She’s a peacekeeper. There have been many times when I’ve wanted to throttle Gracie, or Gracie’s wanted to throttle me, and the only reason we’re both still alive is Faith’s soothing, balmy presence.
She gives really good advice, which is probably a result of reasons 1–4. I hardly ever listen to it, but it’s reassuring to know it’s there.
I spent the entire afternoon lying on Faith’s bed, looking at Elle and Marie Claire galleries on her computer whilst she painted. I told her about my plan and she said, “Are you sure you’re ready to date? You’ve cried three times since you got here.”
See. Solid advice, reliably ignored.
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 8:01 P.M.
A Further Reminder of My Sadness
Mum came in and threw my mail at me.
“It’s time to open it. I’ve had enough of you cluttering up my house.”
“You shouldn’t have had a child, then,” I muttered as she walked away.
It was my new A level timetable, which I’ve been avoiding since it arrived three weeks ago. I’m taking Art & Design, English, French, Maths, Biology. Yes, that is five instead of four, and no, I’m not one of those super-intelligent and slightly unbalanced students who really enjoy learning and go to after-school clubs.
CONFESSION: I only really took Biology because Leon was taking it.
WHO AM I?????
Even writing it down makes me feel dirty. I rationalized that otherwise we wouldn’t have had any of the same subjects (he’s taking History, Politics, German and Biology). I didn’t want to give up anything I wanted to do, so I just...took an extra one.
Mum was all,
“Are you sure that’s not too many, Emma?”
“Are you sure you actually want to take Biology, Emma?”
“Since when did you like touching dead animals, Emma?”
And I was all,
“It’s not too many, Mum.”
“I can handle it, Mum.”
“Of course I want to take Biology. Why else would I be doing it, Mum?”
Evidence: Heed my warning. DO NOT make life decisions that will actually affect your future based around someone you like. Even if you think you may “love” them. It is not worth it. You will end up like me. I am doing a whole extra AS level because I am an idiot.
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 10:25 P.M.
I was just contemplating which series to start from the beginning yet again, when...
Laurence: hi
... What’s this?!
Emma: hey
Has he hit his head? Does he not remember that I am a strange stalker?
Emma: you ok?
Laurence: yeah you?
Emma: I’m good thanks
Laurence: I got the name of my dentist off my mum... ;)
Is he being nice about yesterday?
Emma: haha...thanks
Laurence: now you can have teeth as nice as mine
Emma: I’m not sure they’ll ever measure up
Laurence: haha. Do you want it?
Or does he really think I want his dentist’s number?
Emma: er sure thanks
Laurence: you’ll have to get it off me in person
Oh. I see.
Emma: I see
Laurence: do you want to go to the cinema tomorrow?
Emma: sure
Laurence: ok, meet me there at 7, I’ll get the tickets
Emma: cool see you then
Laurence: see you tomorrow
And the investigations are back on track!! Interesting. Very interesting. I’m quite taken aback.
Evidence: Technology nerds don’t scare easily.
So, I have a date tomorrow... I hope he doesn’t mind that I’m in love with someone else. Or that he’s a case study. Going to sleep now. I feel marginally better about life. (Marginally.)
WEDNESDAY, 10 SEPTEMBER
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 10:10 A.M.
Up bright and early. I’m not really nervous. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Before seeing Leon, I used to shake like a leaf and feel sick. Even though I saw him a lot.
I miss him.
I wonder how often he sees Anna? I mean Apple?
POSTED BY EDITING
EMMA 11:37 A.M.
I was looking through pictures of Leon on my phone when I realized something that I’ve never noticed before...he has quite a small head. And I have quite a large one. What was I thinking?? Trying to make a relationship work with someone who has such a smaller head than me??? I pointed this out to Mum.
She replied, “Yes, that’s probably why it didn’t work out. He was afraid of your big, beefy skull.”
Must snap out of this. Focus on tonight. I’m Louis Theroux, I’m Louis Theroux.
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 6:07 P.M.
I can’t seem to motivate myself to put on makeup. Sometimes I feel like there’s nothing fun about it anymore, it’s just some cruel necessity...and I’m only sixteen. What am I going to feel like when I’m twenty-six? Thirty-six?
Mum came in and stared at me staring at the mirror.
“What are you doing?”
“Feeling resentful that half the population don’t feel pressured to waste time and energy painting their faces every day.”
“You could stop doing it.”
“Then I’d feel bad about myself because I’d look worse than everyone else. It will only work if every single woman on the planet puts down their eyeliner and says, no, this is what I look like, and this is how I am.”
“Someone’s got to start the revolution.”
“Will you join me?”
“No.”
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 6:41 P.M.
I suppose, if there is one small consolation to the injustice of dreary, habitual makeup, it’s that I can cover up my sty. OK...I’m off on my “date” now. Maybe it will actually be magical and we’ll have lots of sex and terrifying babies that look like Chad Kroeger.
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 22:14
My “Date”: A Play-by-Play
Magical is definitely not the word I would use to describe tonight.
7:00 p.m.: I arrive at the cinema and Laurence is already waiting there, swaying awkwardly from side to side with his hands in his pockets. He’s wearing baggy jeans and a baggy
T-shirt with some sort of cartoon dog on it. It’s a look, I guess. I walk over to him.
“Hi!” I say.
“Hi.”