Love Is for Losers by Wibke Brueggemann (motivational books for men .TXT) 📕

the first one off the bus, and she kept skipping and waving at us even though she was no longer looking, and Polly thought it was so funny she literally cried.

I got off next, and when I got home, Kate was like: “Any news?” and I was like: “Like what news?” and Kate was like: “I don’t know. News news. You know.”

Me: What are you talking about?

Kate: News.

Me: Can you stop saying news?

Kate: News.

Me: I think you may have actually lost the plot.

I’m not saying Kate was ever not crazy, but I swear ever since she’s fallen in love, we’re talking a whole new level.

9:04 P.M.

I had the best day, and for some bizarre reason (possibly sunstroke), I even found Tristan mildly tolerable.

And maybe I can be okay with just being Emma’s friend.

And maybe that would be better anyway.

Because friendships last.

I think Polly and I are finally okay again.

Monday, June 25 #ForeverHome

This morning I was like: What is life?

I hate that, you know, I’m so tired in the mornings, and then in the evenings I’m awake for ages because I’m finally no longer tired.

Tomorrow night people are coming over to look at the kittens.

Kate was like: “It’s time they go on to their forever homes.”

I’m obviously not their biggest fan, but it’ll be weird without them, because even though they’ve been a pain in the arse, they’ve been fun to have around.

Mum sent me a long email, because she didn’t get to speak to me yesterday because I’ve been “having way too much fun with your friends to think of your old mother.”

Why does everything have to be about her?

And I’m sorry, but yes, I honestly haven’t been thinking about her very much, because basically I haven’t seen her in five months, and I’ve been busy with GCSEs, the truth about my father, and people dying.

Emma keeps saying: “Oh, I want to be like your mum when I grow up.”

No, you actually really don’t.

Tuesday, June 26 #LiesAgain

I lied about the availability of the designer kittens (mainly Richard).

The first people arrived before Kate was back from work, and so I let them in and showed them the kittens, and I was like: “Those three are certified pure breeds, but the ginger boy one has been sold.”

So when Kate came in, the man was like: “We’ll have one of the girls. We’d prefer the boy, but I understand he’s already been snapped up.”

Kate looked at me like: What?

Me: The all-over ginger ones are always most popular.

Man: They sure are.

Kate:?

I’m glad she wasn’t like: What are you talking about, of course you can have the bloody ginger one.

When the people had gone, Kate just looked at me, crossed her arms, and was like: “Explain.”

Me: Please don’t sell Richard.

Kate (deep sigh): Phoebe.

Me: Please, let Emma have him.

Kate: Have you even asked her if she wants the bloody kitten?

Me: No.

Kate: Well, you need to have that conversation, don’t you think? And maybe while you’re at it, have that other conversation, too.

I stormed out like a proper dick and went to my room.

What’s wrong with me?

I need to stop this madness.

8:43 P.M.

I Googled “how to fall out of love with someone.”

Disappointingly, the internet turned out to be no help at all, because apparently that question can only be asked when you actually are in a relationship with someone.

The suggestion is to “write a list of why things haven’t worked out.”

Well, things haven’t not worked out. Mainly because the person in question has never looked at me in that way/would never in a hundred years look at me that way.

I mean, it’s great that you can watch YouTube videos like “All you need to know about black holes in twenty-five seconds,” but what about the answers to questions that actually have an immediate impact on real life? Like: How do I fall out of love with someone????

Surely there has got to be a way, and surely I can’t be the first bloody person to be asking this question.

PS: Emma and Polly and Tristan are following each other on Instagram now.

I feel my life unraveling.

Wednesday, June 27 #DesperateTimes

Today I thought about the phrase “falling in love” again, and I finally totally get it. You fall. You trip, and boom! It’s entirely unintentional, not like a parachute jump (which is called “jump,” not “fall,” for a reason).

Apparently it doesn’t matter how clever you are, and I’m very clever, but I’m also clumsy AF, and I think I fell in love with Emma the way I often fall when I trip over my own feet.

I reckon the thing to do is to do nothing and wait until I hit the ground. Then I can deal with the impact, brush myself off, and limp away with as much dignity as humanly possible.

Like that time I tackled the shoplifter.

Thursday, June 28 #WinningNotWinning

Here’s how you don’t do it:

Try touching them at every opportunity.

Try making them spend time with you.

Spend an hour deciding what to wear because their possible reaction to it is suddenly more important than you actually feeling comfortable.

Reread Romeo and Juliet.

Give in to mentionitis.

On a positive note, the zero-grip bowling shoes have sold, which means the score is 1–0 to me.

I was like: “Who on earth bought them?” and Kate said it was the old lady who always comes in wearing her sunglasses and immediately complains it’s too dark and that she can’t see anything.

Maybe she didn’t see they were bowling shoes.

I seriously hope she’s not going to fall over and break her ankle, because that would totally be my fault somehow.

I swear Kate watches me now when I’m with Emma.

Is there anything more embarrassing?

Emma and I moved on from the bowling shoes and the pressed flowers picture, and this week I’m going with a green, pink, and white tracksuit from the eighties, and Emma has put a moldy old Bible in the display case.

I already know it’s not a winner, because it’s not the season for Bibles.

The game is on again.