Girl After Dark (7 page)

Nobody wants to see your ‘Haul Video’ now, Melissa.

I slump back down on the bed, dejected. It hits me that while I may well have money and a new place to live in New York, I still don’t really know what I’m actually doing with my life here.

I feel so aimless.

And worse than that? I feel lonely.

My followers and readers used to be my friends. We shared our love of clothes and shopping, fashion and makeup. And now they’re all gone.

Nobody wants to see ‘that slut’ do another video.

And as I think about the word,
slut
, I feel a frustration at the fact that it isn’t even
true -
I haven’t done anything, really, not one of the outrageous things they’re all saying about me online.

But why not?
I think.

Why can’t I do those things? What’s stopping me? I’m young. I’m single. I’m alone in a new city, completely anonymous. Why can’t I finally have some fun?

So with a newfound energy tingling through me, I lift my laptop off the bed, rest it on my knees, open the lid, and quickly begin to type … 

Girl After Dark
:
From London to New York on a voyage of sexual discovery

First Post

Welcome dear readers to this brand new blog. You don’t know me; nobody does. And guess what? I’m not even going to tell you my name, not ever. But what I am going to tell you, dear readers, is the truth.

I’m going to tell you how I’m feeling.

I’m going to tell you what I’ve done.

And I’m going to tell you what I want to do next …

But first, back to the very beginning.

At fourteen I had my first kiss, at a birthday party. It was slimy and unpleasant, and he told everyone about it afterwards. (That should have been my first warning.)

My first boyfriend, when I was fifteen, was sweet. His kisses weren’t slimy and he always said he’d wait until I was ready to go further. And he did. When I was sixteen, his parents went to Edinburgh for the weekend, and he invited me over. There were candles everywhere, and a bottle of cheap white wine, the best they had in the only shop for miles that would serve us underage.

It was lovely and romantic, but we were just kids, and of course the relationship didn’t last.

At university, I had exactly one one night stand. The less said about that, the better.

Then I met my boyfriend. We spent three happy years together. I loved him deeply — loved him until the day I walked in on him in bed with someone else, that is. I never really stopped to think about our sex life until afterwards; it had become staid and boring. I was doing all the work to keep the spark in our relationship. But he never made any effort. I know now — he was already gone from me. But even so, I loved him.

And now, dear readers, I’m single. And although its not my choice, I’m going to embrace it. Because there’s still so much I haven’t done.

And I want to do it all.

Starting right this very second.

I promise you’ll be the first to hear about it, so get ready for an exciting ride …

§

I hit ‘post’, and there it is, my brand new blog: Girl After Dark.

This time, I’ve made two promises to myself:

One, to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

And two, to remain completely and totally anonymous.

Not that there was anything wrong with what I was planning to do. Not that I was ashamed of finding out what excited me, sexually. But even so, this just felt
so
private, so intimate …

Online, people think they know who I am. They have labels for me. But I don’t want to live within those labels anymore. I’ve spent too long being ‘perfect’ for other people — the perfect girlfriend for Will, not to mention the perfect girl with the perfect life online for my followers. But what does ‘perfect’ even really mean, I wonder? What’s actually so wrong with imperfections, with flaws?

I’ve presented myself as so shiny and sunny and bright all the time. But what’s so wrong with the darkness that lives inside me, too?

And as I think back on the last year of my life, on career as VintageHoney, I realize that she was a teacher. I’d spent the past year of my life teaching other people how to do things.

But now, as Girl After Dark, I’m ready to become the student again.

I don’t know if you know this about me already, but I just hate being late.

Which is why I find myself arriving super early for my lunch with Jonathan. Just like I promised myself, I’d called the number Dad had written down for me. And he’d suggested somewhere for us to meet for lunch.

I’m actually kind of surprised at his choice of restaurant, too! It’s this cool kind of hipster place in Williamsburg called Rabbit Hole. As I take a seat wait for him to arrive, I start eyeing up all the delicious-sounding things on the breakfast and lunch menu, in particular stuffed French toast with strawberry mascarpone.

My stomach lets out an eager little grumble in anticipation.

I’d forgotten just how much better the food in New York was, compared to London — I just hope I’ll be able to keep my figure!

Just then, Jonathan walks in … At least I
think
it’s Jonathan?! It’s this handsome, not to mention insanely well-dressed tall hipster guy, wearing Jonathan’s face.

Wow! I guess time really has changed him!

I suppose I was no picnic myself, but the last time I’d seen Jonathan, back when we were both thirteen, I guess you could say he was kind of geeky — acne, wire-frame glasses, braces on his teeth, the lot.

At this last thought, I feel a sharp pang of guilt and shame, as I realize that part of my apprehension about meeting Jonathan is down to the fact that I didn’t want to hang out with such a ‘geek’. I hate myself for being this shallow, and I inwardly decide never to judge people on their pasts -
or
their appearances - ever again.

“Nice blouse!” he says as he joins me at our small table by the window. “American Apparel, right?”

“Um … yeah?” I reply with a curious smile. “Hi, Jonathan. It’s been a while.”

“Sure has,” he smiles back. “The last time you saw me, I was a total fright. Don’t try and deny it! But luckily, I’ve been through my ‘Ugly Duckling’ transformation, don’t you think?”

I laugh. I can’t help it. He’s so candid, so up-front and funny, and already the afternoon ahead suddenly seems like it’s gonna be
so
much fun. I don’t know what I was worried about.

“Yes,” I grin. “You look really good. But I’m not going to tell you that ever again, because I’ve got a feeling you already know it!”

“Of course I do, Honey,” he quips back. “I’ve got a mirror, haven’t I? And anyway, darling,” he continues, giving me a quick glance up and down, “you’ve not turned out so bad yourself!”

“Thanks,” I blush, looking away for a moment.

“Now, now,” he says softly. “That English modesty may well be very becoming back in London, but it’s
not
very New York now, is it? You’re here in the States, sister. You’re gonna have to learn to
own it
.”

Of course, I noticed it immediately. Almost the moment he walked in, in fact. But the way he’s talking now, there’s just no denying it. And almost as if he can read my mind, he blurts it out.

“Well, Honeybee. Better get you up to speed. It’s been a couple of years, after all. Your dad’s now pathetically single, my mother has lost all the weight, oh, and in case you hadn’t noticed? I’m gay.”

“I think it might be obvious,” I stage-whisper back.

“So how about you?” he continues happily, obviously so comfortable now in his own skin. “I can’t help but noticing that you’ve come over here on your lonesome. I take it that means things aren’t going so great with you and The Doctor?”

At even this jokey mention of Will, I feel that now-familiar frustration and sadness rise up in me once again.

“Good guess,” I say quietly. And I wonder how much Jonathan already knows about my situation — from my dad, or worse … from the internet. But if he does know anything more, thankfully he keeps my most recent fall from grace tactfully quiet.

“Well,” he says, “the good news is, New York is the best place in the world to date. It’s practically a full time job for some people over here. They take it really seriously.”

“Yeah, but where do I even start?” I sigh. “I’m not looking for anything serious, just yet. I just want to have some
fun
for once.”

“That’s no problem either!” he smiles back. “This city is also chock full of commitment-phoebes, if that’s your bag!”

“Sounds perfect,” I reply with a laugh. “Sign me up.”

“Well, for starters, you’ve joined Tinder, right?” he says, as if this is the completely obvious thing for a girl like me to do.

“Do you mean that app that shows you pictures of all the single people near you? The one where you swipe left for ‘no’ and right for ‘yes’? And it lets you know if you both like each other, yeah? You’ve got that
here
, too?” I reply, surprised. “Some of my friends have used that back in London, but …”

“Of course we have Tinder!” he interrupts with a laugh. “This is New York, baby. We have
everything
.”

§

It’s the first thing I do, the very moment I get back to Dad’s apartment. I dash up to my room, slam the door firmly behind me, take my phone out of my bag, go to the App Store, search for Tinder, then press ‘GET’.

As the app begins to install, I think back to my friends in London, those of them who used Tinder and internet dating in general.

They always seemed to be ‘hooking up’ with people and having lots of casual fun (meaning sex, I guess) — something I’ve never really done before …

But now I’m determined.

I’m going to find someone. Someone tall, dark and handsome. And I’m going to have an anonymous one night stand with him.

I smile as I realize exactly what my second Girl After Dark blog post is going to be about.

But for a brief moment, my excitement is cut short, as the app demands that I log into Facebook, too. Really? Do I
have
to? I’ve not logged back in since I deleted Will … Around the same time I stopped checking my emails and other messages, too.

But luckily, it doesn’t want me to log in completely. It just wants to use my profile pictures (and thank God, I’m able to select the ones
without
Will featured in them).

And there’s one more thing to be thankful for, too: I’ve always wanted to keep my Facebook profile kind of private. After all, when practically everyone on the internet already knows who you are, you need some space just to hang out with your friends. So Melissa Lane doesn’t have a Facebook profile — but Honey B does.

Finally, after what seems like forever, my Tinder account is all set up and ready to go. With a heady mixture of nerves and excitement, I hit the button to begin, the one that simply says:

Start Playing
…