me.
You should message me if:
You read to the bottom of this and still want to date me.
N.B. Bonus points if you can spell
‘So, what do you guys think?’ I asked. There was a four-second silence while Lara and Emma looked at each other.
‘Um, it’s … very honest,’ said Emma slowly. ‘The virgin thing is particularly, uh … Ellie, why did you put that in?’
‘Because I want to be honest. I feel like this is a chance for me to meet guys who like me for me, and respect me. I just want to make sure I end up sleeping with someone who doesn’t care that I only just lost my V-plates.’
‘Yeah, you’re going to have to take that out,’ said Lara bluntly. ‘And—support bras? You want to seduce these men, not scare the shit out of them. Also, the 36Ds? Ellie, that’s just cheap, as is the fact that you’re looking for whatever they can give you.’
‘That was flirty,’ I said hotly.
‘Is the fact that you can only cook pasta and are clearly having an existential crisis flirty too?’ she asked.
Emma nodded in agreement. ‘Babe, they don’t need to know all this stuff up front. Maybe just tone it down a bit?’ She looked at my crestfallen face. ‘I mean, I love that it’s so you, but I’m not really sure it works. Like, the passed out drunk in an alleyway part sounds a bit … wrong.’
Lara snorted with laughter and I turned to her angrily. ‘It isn’t wrong. It’s just funny. I said I’m good at making my friends laugh and I was trying to prove my point.’ They were now both laughing hysterically into their glasses of rosé. ‘Ugh, whatever. If you think you can do better, why don’t you take over?’
‘I thought you’d never ask,’ said Lara, grabbing the laptop. ‘Come on, Emma, let’s fix this.’
ELK123 22, London
My self-summary:
I live in East London and work in the media. Studied English at uni and am now wondering why.
What I’m doing with my life:
Interning for a high-profile online magazine.
I’m really good at:
Making my friends laugh.
The first things people usually notice about me:
My smile.
Favourite books, movies, shows, music and food:
Love romcoms, old Disney films and trashy American TV.
Listen to everything from old-school rap to drum and bass.
Favourite authors range from Jane Austen to Jack Kerouac.
The six things I could never do without:
My friends
Clothes
Alcohol
Coffee
Novels
Saturday nights
I spend a lot of time thinking about:
How fun last weekend was.
On a typical Friday night I am:
Out drinking with my friends.
The most private thing I’m willing to admit:
I’ve never been on a dating site before.
I’m looking for:
Whatever happens.
You should message me if:
You want to.
‘What is this?’ I cried out. ‘Message me if you want to? I sound like a fucking PROSTITUTE. And you both know I hate Jack Kerouac. This is … This is all lies,’ I spluttered.
‘Nooo, it’s not lies,’ said Emma. ‘It’s more of an airbrushed version of the truth. We kept in some of it anyway, like … the bit about music?’
‘Drum and bass? Do I look like the kind of person who wants to take E and jump up and down to music without words?’ I shrieked.
‘Babe, you don’t really jump to drum and bass,’ said Emma, before catching sight of my face. ‘OK, OK, if you hate it, we can change it. But, honestly, I think this would work a bit better than your one. I mean, would you rather your future date sees you as self-deprecating and awkward—which we love about you—or sexy and fun?’
‘Exactly,’ said Lara. ‘You’d exaggerate your CV, so you may as well do the same for this. Just think of it as a dating CV. It’s like, um, an online portfolio.’
I frowned at them both and then broke into a grin. ‘Wait, so do you guys really think I have a good smile?’
‘We wrote that?’ asked Lara. ‘Oh yeah. We figured it was better than drawing attention to the mass of hair on your head or your massive tits. Besides, smiles sound sexy.’
‘But this isn’t me being myself. It’s me trying to be the kind of girl guys like.’
‘Exactly,’ said Emma. ‘Guys will like it.’
‘Uh, what happened to you being a feminist?’ I asked. ‘One boyfriend and you’re all “pretend you like Kerouac and drum and bass” to get a guy.’
‘It’s just playing them at their own game,’ replied Emma, waving her hand at me. ‘They do it too—how many of these guys really like half the stuff they say they do? The ones who put “looking for friendship”? Utter bollocks. All they want is a casual fuck, but they can’t say that or no one will click on them. It’s just the game.’
‘Well … that’s shit,’ I said. ‘I thought The Game was an anti-women self-help book for men to pull girls by ebbing away at their self-esteem.’
‘Yeah, it’s that too,’ said Emma. ‘But I was talking about the concept not the book, babe.’
‘Either way, it sounds like crap,’ I said. ‘It’s so old-fashioned. I’m so over the game. In fact, I officially opt out of the game.’
Lara raised an eyebrow at me. ‘So, you’re going to use your original profile, then?’
I threw a cushion at her. ‘Oh, fuck off, you both know my attempt was shit and I’m using your version. But you don’t have to look so smug about it.’
They grinned at each other. ‘Knew it,’ said Emma. ‘As much as we hate the game, it’s just gotta be played.’
‘OK, this is it,’ said Lara. ‘I’m clicking save, and … it’s done! Now we’ve just got to hope that this mass of lies gets Ellie laid.’
Forty-eight hours had passed since the creation of ELK123 and I was yet to get laid. However, I had just checked my phone and there were FOUR messages waiting for me. I was well on my way to slutdom.
Hey, sexy, can I come on your face? How about Tues night?
I blushed and dropped my phone onto my keyboard. I looked around the office furtively, but Maxine was yelling down her phone and no one else was in yet. It was only the unpaid intern who was expected to be in at 8 a.m.
I clicked