The internet’s a grown-up picture book except neither of us is grown up and his friends post whiskey bottles, not faces. And the drag back is the pristinity of his photographs. I plot the perfect reply and he says, “Nice hair,” but I didn’t do anything to it.
He asks why the fez and I lose the Doctor Who reference and he asks which one is me and I explain that the one girl/monkey combination should’ve given away but it didn’t or it did but sarcasm jaggedly translates and I’ll never know him, even if we meet which we won’t because there’s always more he could find out I wouldn’t want to hand to him, and the next says I seem fun and I ask how he knows and he says my expression is a cert and I say it was a moment and 99% of the time my face is a different contortion to this and he says let’s meet somewhere no-one will be and I say I don’t like walking and he laughs like I joke but I won’t go or come and no kind of chatroom coercion will work on me. I’m schooled. It’s 2012. Do you know how long we’ve had internet now? And what will our children do with it?