Dating Disasters of Emma Nash
Page 7
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 10:49 A.M.
Still listening to Steph list how many different kinds of Game of Thrones collectibles she’s going to buy with her millions. I’m so bored of this.
“And I’m going to get that real Valyrian steel replica of Robb Stark’s sword and hang it in the hallway...”
“Steph, do we have twenty-four friends?”
That shut her up.
Our List of Friends
(who would actually split the money and not run away to Barbados)
Emma.
Steph.
Faith.
Gracie.
“So...just twenty more, then.”
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 11:16 A.M.
Told Steph about getting back on track with my resolutions.
“So, I’ve decided to embark on Experiment Two of my plan.”
“Which is? More friends?”
“No. Wait for it... FRIENDS of friends!!!”
She looked less than enthralled, but invited me over tonight anyway to get started. Given that there will definitely be chocolaty snacks, I’ll let it slide.
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 1:32 P.M.
Walking over to meet the others at lunch and spotted Laurence Myer shuffling around with a bag of Minstrels in hand. This is getting ridiculous. I’m going to have to “break up” with him.
Oh. He’s not giving me the Minstrels. He’s eating them. Well. Fine, then!
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 1:44 P.M.
At lunch. Now he’s across from me at another table...just nomming away. Awkwardly glancing over at me every now and again, staring me straight in the eye as he puts them in his mouth.
Is he breaking up with me?
Through a packet of Minstrels?
Faith said, “I think he’s doing some kind of weird voodoo. Every piece of chocolate is a bit of you...being crushed,” and now I keep feeling stabbing pains in my legs.
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 4:37 P.M.
In the safety of Steph’s bed, staring up at her Kurt Cobain–covered ceiling, thank God.
The News at the End of Biology
I was just about to leave for the day with some sense of hope, when Dr. Penzik ruined everything.
“Oh, before you shoot off, Ms. Fray went into early labor last night.”
There was lots of gushing and cooing. (Is it the law to have to pretend babies are cute if you have a vagina? Or do they actually like them? And if so, WHY?)
“The substitute won’t be here for another week so on Thursday we’ll be in the other lab, with Ms. Fray’s class.”
Leon’s in that class.
“You’ll be put into pairs by last name.”
Of course. Nash and Naylor.
Still processing this news with Steph.
“Please say there’s someone in between us???? There’s a whole five letters...someone must be called...Naweltzer? Nautter? Natella? Navskov?”
“Maybe the numbers won’t work out? Maybe you’ll be partnered with the person the other side of you?”
“Yes, yes!! Maybe I’ll be with Abby Matthews? Lovely, lovely Abby Matthews who thinks she’s above everyone else and can never remember my name?? God, I’d kill to be locked in a room with Abby Matthews for a week if it meant avoiding Leon!”
That’s not strictly true. I am dreading it, but I also know, now, that if I’m not next to him there will be a small part of me that’s crushingly disappointed. How does that work?
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 5:51 P.M.
After about an hour of obsessing Steph shook me and said, “EMMA. Remember what you came here to do.”
Now we’re scanning all my friends’ friends, searching for hidden possibilities. We haven’t come up with anything very exciting, yet. For a while we discussed whether Steph’s Weird Cousin Bart might have potential, but then we remembered that time he peed out her bedroom window and realized we must be scraping the barrel.
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 6:07 P.M.
Steph got bored incredibly quickly. I wonder at her lack of dedication to my love life.
“Ooh, I know, Jess is back from uni. Let’s go on her TINDER!” she cried through a mouthful of chocolate.
“Why would I want to talk to strange older men who think I’m Jess?”
“We won’t use it, obviously! I meant for research purposes!”
“Will Jess be OK with that?”
“Having a phone without a passcode is practically an open invitation.”
I can’t argue with that kind of logic.
Operation Get Jess’s Phone
The plan is to wait until Steph’s parents call for dinner, and when she goes downstairs slip into her room and get the phone. (This has been left down to me, as Steph said, “If I am caught in Jess’s room I will be murdered. If you’re caught there will only be a mild beating.” So that’s reassuring.) We’ll ask to have dinner in Steph’s room, because I can’t bear to miss Coronation Street (again, I had to take the hit on that one because Steph’s parents know that she, quite rightly, couldn’t care less about Coronation Street). And then...voilà!
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 7:12 P.M.
SUCCESS. With only one minor hiccup. I bumped into Jess on the way out of her room, as she was coming out of the toilet.
“All right, Emma?” she said. Her hair is cut short like Steph’s, except it’s dyed dark blue. I wish I could pull off blue hair but there’s absolutely no way in hell.
“Yes, er...yes, I’m all right. Why? Are you all right?” I stuttered, hiding her phone behind my back.
“I’m hunky-dory, ta,” she said, and walked past.
“Did she seem suspicious?” asked Steph.
“Er...she looked at me like I was a bit strange.”
“Oh, then we’re fine. She always thinks you’re strange.”
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 8:41 P.M.
So. I have now officially used A DATING APP (sort of, I suppose technically I have committed fraud via a dating app). It’s been an...interesting experience. Here’s what I have learned:
1) It’s more like stalking than “dating.”
Their whereabouts are listed before you even get to read anything about them! (In fact, most people haven’t put anything about themselves at all, so it’s purely a photo and their whereabouts.) Why is location so important? What if my soul mate lived a few stops along the Northern Line and I never bothered, and ended up with mediocre-but-highly-convenient Mr. Down the Road??
Having said that, I did always hate getting the tube.
2) Leon does not have Tinder.
I already knew that. Logically. But try telling that to the illogical part of my brain that looks out for him everywhere. The supermarket with my mum. The dentist’s. The doctor’s. The garden shed. The linen closet.
3) There are a lot of people who look a bit like Leon.
Alas, they are not the original.
4) There are a lot of people, full stop.
I am completely overwhelmed by the sea of choice, and a little bit terrified of how many people are on the planet. It’s not that I don’t know there are over seven billion other people living on Earth, but looking through Tinder really smacks you in the face with it.
5) There are a lot of WEIRDOS.
Weirder than me. And I sleep with a blood-encrusted Band-Aid under my pillow. There was one boy in particular doing a great Charles Manson impression.
“Does he want to date me, or induct me into a cult and convince me to stab unwitting strangers?” I asked.
And, finally, perhaps the most important lesson of all...
6) My mum has Tinder.
Yes. You did hear me correctly. My mum has Tinder. It’s so awful I can barely type it. Here’s what happened:
Steph and I were just casually playing with the settings.<
br />
“Make the age range older,” I said.
“Why?”
“No reason. Just...for fun.”
“You want to see if Mr. Allen is on here?”
“Naturally.”
So we did. Then Steph said, “Shall we set it to women? See if there’s anyone on here Faith might like??”
And we forgot to shift the age range back. A few seconds later we both saw the image which will forever be burned into my eyelids.
“Emma, is that...is that your mum?!?!”
I gaped, speechless.
It was, undeniably, my mother. My mother, ladies and gentlemen, in a very busty outfit. Her profile reads, “Allie Nash: I am not ready for a walker. I’m chilled, but love a bit of heat ;) (I mean the weather, of course!!)”
Dear Lord.
Steph laughed, and laughed, whilst I tried to figure out a way to take back the last five minutes. I’m hoping the vision of my mum’s Tinder profile will fit into that little coffin in the darkest, murkiest corner of my mind, filled with memories never to be relived. Like the questionable objects I found in her drawer one time, when I was stealing her tights.
TUESDAY, 16 SEPTEMBER
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 8:31 A.M.
Is There Such a Thing as TOO Good-Looking?
So last night, I was feeling a bit defeated and about to go home (after smuggling Jess’s phone back into her room) when Steph had an idea.
“Ooh, go on Jess’s friends!! She’s older so her friends are twice as likely to be attractive than ours. Or at least taller.”
And then we found this BEAUTIFUL BOY. He is, without a doubt, probably one of the best-looking people I have ever seen, except on the big screen. Well, I guess he is sort of still on a screen, but you know. His name is PAOLO. Even after stalking him loads last night I can’t seem to say his name in lowercase letters. Probably because the name PAOLO sounds like it’s made up.
“How do you think Jess knows him?!” I asked.
“Hmm. Definitely not uni. He’s not friends with any of her uni friends.”
“You’re a little too good at this.”
“AHA!” She stopped on a picture of him sitting in an armchair.
“What?”
She pointed to the corner of the photo.
“A table?”
“What’s on the table?”
“A...mug?”
“Not just any mug, Emma. A mug from the coffee place down the road, where Jess worked over summer.”
She leaned back and crossed and uncrossed her legs.
“Say it,” she said.
“Say what?”
“Say ‘STEPH HAS MAD SKILLS.’”
“Steph...you have mad skills.”
“Not quite the enthusiasm I was looking for, but I’ll accept.”
She carried on clicking. I glanced at a picture of PAOLO chucking a ball at his friend in the sea.
“Do you think he’s too good-looking, though?”
“No such thing,” asserted Steph.
“There is.”
“There isn’t.”
“There is.”
“There isn’t.”
“There is.”
“LOOK AT HIM.”
“Yes. I am... I suppose, I mean, it doesn’t look like he’s really arrogant, does it? He’s not like, posing with his shirt off or obnoxiously wearing sunglasses indoors.”
“He should pose with his shirt off.”
“You’re not helping.”
“LOOK AT HIM.”
“This is supposed to be about finding someone who won’t make me feel like crap.”
“How could kissing this guy make anyone feel like crap?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do, but I think you’re being a bit look-ist. Just because a guy is attractive, doesn’t mean he’s going to do a Leon.”
The mention of what he did stung me unexpectedly.
“Sorry,” she said, noticing me wince.
Anyway, now I’m in the girls’ loos deciding whether or not to talk to PAOLO. Hmm.
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 11:17 A.M.
Terrible Things That Have Already Happened Today
English Class
I was half thinking about Leon, half watching Crazy Holly’s impression of Victor Frankenstein and feeling glad I wasn’t sitting at the front... She’d backcombed her hair and was leaning in really close to people’s faces, asking in a stern voice, “What have I done? What have I done?” Boring Susan looked particularly uncomfortable. Then Ms. Parker’s voice interrupted, just as Leon was kissing down my neck... It was quite odd. For a moment I had a vision of her kissing down my neck.
“Emma? Emma? Earth calling Emma?” she called.
“I don’t know, sorry.”
“Don’t know what?”
“Er...the answer?”
The whole class laughed.
“It’s your turn,” Ms. Parker said.
“Ohh...right. I know I said this last time but could I possibly maybe go next week?”
“There is no next week. This is the last week.”
Bollocks.
“Ohh, right. Fine. Could I possibly maybe go after the next person?”
“There is no next person. You are the last person.”
Double bollocks.
Five minutes later, I was standing in front of the class like a lemon.
“Right, Emma, and which character are you going to be presenting?”
Crap. The monster can’t speak much, right?
“Er... I...the monster.”
There was a snigger.
“Interesting—” Ms. Parker leaned back in her chair “—ready when you are.”
I searched my mind frantically for what was happening in the book the last time I looked at it... Think. Think. I remember the monster was wandering around in some woods?
“I feel...cold.”
Oh God...think more.
“Water come from my eyes but I do not know why. People are scared of my face but I do not know why. My face cannot hurt them. I see old lady in street who scream at me. More water come from my eyes. I say, ‘HEY, LADY! YOU UGLY TOO!’ Then she hit me with her bag. It hurt me. I like the pain. It mean I feel something else that is not sadness.”
It was like being the captain on a sinking ship, with nothing to do but go down nobly.
“I like pain so I kick tree. I kick it again. And again.”
At this point I thought I might as well roll with it. I grabbed a chair and kicked it. Boring Susan had a glint of terror in her eyes.
“And AGAIN!! AND AGAIN!!”
The back of the chair broke so I stopped.
“Then the tree break. Even tree hate me. If tree could run, it would run. Then I think of tree with legs and funny sound come from me. It sound like... Hahahahah. What is this? What is this noise that I make? I like it so I keep thinking of trees with legs.”
I sat down on the floor.
“I do not need people. I have my ha-has.”
I thought I was done then, but the class was still looking expectant so I just kept saying “hahahahah” and lay down and pretended to go to sleep.
Steph Not Letting English Class Go
“You er, might not have failed... I mean, you never know.”
“It’s OK. You don’t have to...”
“It was different, at least.”
“Can we not talk about it?”
“Oh, yes, sure.”
Silence.
“Can I just ask one question?”
“What?”
“Why the German accent?”
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 1:51 P.M.
Summary of Lunchtime
Steph stole my phone and followed
Paolo on Instagram, because she’s so mature. Faith’s sister is having an engagement party and Faith’s pretending that she’s excited, but I can tell she’s dreading it and won’t admit it for fear of seeming selfish. Gracie was moaning because there was a suspicious lump on her fishcake.
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 5:41 P.M.
I came home to the sound of high-pitched giggling, and knew instantly that Mum’s friend Heather was here. When I walked into the living room she exclaimed, “Oh, Emma, you look lovely!”
“In my uniform?”
“Such pretty colors.” She nodded.
With anyone else I’d assume they were lying, but Heather has very strange taste in clothing. She once unironically wore a cork hat.
Mum’s Friend Heather
Heather is a bizarre but lovely woman, who mostly travels a lot, floating from job to job. She did a lot to help my mum when I was growing up and my mum was trying to juggle raising me alone with starting her own business, though to this day I’ll never understand how because Heather is possibly the least organized person I’ve ever met. Apparently, she was supposed to arrive on Friday but missed her flight, because she saw a cat that she thought looked “distressed” and wanted to stay with it.
POSTED BY EDITINGEMMA 6:09 P.M.
We Have Achieved Insteraction
I’m actually quite proud of that pun. Anyway, I was just sitting around muttering to myself, “Don’t think about Leon, don’t think about Leon...” whilst flicking through his photos, when I got a notification. This is unusual as I am more of the “silent observer” on Instagram.
Then I saw it was from PAOLO. He liked one of my photos, of the beach in Tenerife where me, Mum and Steph went over Easter. THEN he commented: “You like water-skiing too? :)”
I flicked onto his profile and saw that Steph had liked about a million photos of him water-skiing earlier. Thanks for that, Steph.
Still, why not?
“I love it!” I reply.
Then we had a really long comment-conversation, and he messaged me. HE MESSAGED ME.
Hi Emma. Would love to chat with you. How are you? Paolo x
OH MY GOD. He would LOVE TO CHAT WITH ME. What do I say back?!
How Am I?
How am I? Terrible, actually. I’ve only ever really liked one person and he’s pretending I don’t exist. I spend most of my time obsessing over him and hating myself for it. But wouldn’t it be great if I wasn’t terrible? If I was having way too much fun to care? If I had tons of really glamorous friends and went to parties all the time, where I didn’t get so drunk that I lost my phone in a bucket of communal sick? (My heart wrenches briefly as I imagine Greg fishing around in there...)