I had a problem and I knew it, but admitting it was a whole different story. Admitting it meant I had to do something about it, and I wasn't planning on doing that any time soon.
Okay, fine, I was addicted to the internet. Quite literally incapable of putting my phone and/or laptop away for longer than an hour without showing withdrawal symptoms. The worst part was that it hadn't even occurred to me until the moment someone said I was a living urban dictionary because I knew practically every single internet meme known to humankind. All the memes. The good, the bad, the dank, the stale, you name it. I knew them all. I'd even accidentally created some myself. It wasn't exactly hard to bring new memes to life when I literally had millions of followers ready to share them with their friends. But could that really be considered an accomplishment?
When it all came down to it, being known to so many people as some kind of idol was a great feeling, but no one could do anything with it. I definitely couldn't make a living off it. More importantly, I couldn't be known as 'DukeCockroach' forever, no matter how much fun it was, because internet fame was as fleeting as a shooting star. I didn't even understand why I was popular. I wasn't special. One of these days, someone else would rise above me and take my throne of 'the funniest account on Twitter'.
If it didn't already get ruined before that because my identity got leaked...
No one but my family knew I was the administrator of my account. I kept it as anonymous as possible. Never used my real name. Never mentioned any other names or locations. Never gave any clue as to who I could be or where I could be from. And so nobody knew that I was DukeCockroach.
Nobody but Joe. Fucking Joe...
Somehow, the guy had found out who I was and told everyone what school DukeCockroach went to, because he somehow thought that blackmailing me into going on a date with him was a good idea. It had caused a huge uproar—and I mean huge—because I had been so stupid to talk about rumors about the students at my school in my Tweets. Not mentioning any names didn't mean shit if everybody knew exactly who you were talking about.
You can bet your ass I don't do that anymore. I was lucky the lunatic hadn't told anyone my name, because facts were just facts. There was not much wrong with me posting about the things that had happened. No, the opinions would have been the cause of my death. I don't think many would have appreciated what I'd once said about them when I was in a bad mood.
But it got me thinking...
I didn't know if it was a good idea— Correction: I knew it was not a good idea. But I kind of really just wanted everyone to know who I was. Eve Bridges, the girl with boring blonde hair and a brother called Hugo with two boyfriends.
Actually... let's not tell anyone about that.
Speaking of Hugo, I'd given him his own twitter account, because he'd gotten a lot of fans when he once took over my account—he was known as DukeCockroach's brother now—but he wasn't very good at using it. He only sent me a tweet if he was too lazy to raise his voice when I was in the other room, but to be fair, I did exactly the same.
After staring at the screen for three seconds I groaned and replied 'I don't wanna know'. I knew his boyfriend had come over. There was undoubtedly something unholy going on in the room next to mine. So no, I really didn't want to know. I wasn't particularly interested in knowing about... whatever he was doing. And I don't mean in the ew-get-those-cooties-away-from-me way, but in the I'm-asexual-as-fuck way.
I didn't mind hearing or reading about it or anything like that, but I just... I didn't get it. I didn't understand why people wanted sex or what was so great about it, and I really didn't feel like trying it out myself anytime soon.
I did understand romantic attraction, however. On the good days. When I didn't feel like committing genocide. I wasn't against the idea of having a boyfriend, as long as he didn't expect me to rip my clothes off for him. I had simply never met anyone that piqued my interest enough to ask him out or to say yes when he asked me out.
Cue the new boy.
The first day of senior year, he sat down beside me. I know, it really couldn't get any more cliché than this. New Boy took the seat beside me (that being the only available seat in the classroom and all) and I couldn't help but wonder what kind of guy he was going to be... Was he the kind that barely managed to utter a greeting and disappeared into the mass of people when the opportunity arose? Was he the kind that wouldn't shut up and ended up with thirty best friends after the first day? Or, worst case scenario, would he be a total player and try to get into my pants?
On the one hand, the latter sounded appealing because I'd like to see him try, but on the other hand, I was really just hoping that he wouldn't see me as yet another mildly attractive girl that he wanted to get with. I hoped he was as nice as he looked.
"Hello," said New Boy.
So far so good.
"Hey," I said.
I blinked. "Uh, hello."
Wow. In an attempt to get out of the infinite loop of greetings, I asked, "What's your name? You're new, right?"
He nodded. "My name is Gilbert, but everyone calls me Gibbs."
A silence fell and I waited for him to ask me the same question—I figured he'd do it sooner or later with the way he was shifting around in his seat, shooting glances at his new classmates—but he didn't. He waited until the moment our teacher walked into the classroom, and finally asked, "What is your name?"
"Ah..." He put his hands behind his head and I heard his chair crack as he leaned backwards. Please break, please break.
"If only my name was Adam."
I spluttered a laugh and he smiled, unperturbed. "It suits you."
"You don't even know me, Gilbert," I said.
Before he could respond, the teacher cleared his throat and started our first lesson of the year. I couldn't help but let out a deep sigh. This was going to be one hell of a year.
I could remember very well how stressed my brother had been last year, especially near the end. It seemed like ages ago, but it had only been a few months since he'd graduated. Now, he lived in a dorm room in a different town, with one of his boyfriends only a door away. I'd never admit it to him, but I was going to miss having him home.
Gilbert kind of reminded me of him. Not because of how he talked—Hugo couldn't flirt to save his life, although Gilbert's tactics weren't very spectacular, either—but because of how he... moved, I guess? He was tall and gangly too, and I couldn't help but wonder if he ever felt like his limbs were in the way because they were so long. Like a giraffe.
New Boy was pretty good-looking, though—I had to give him that. He had a nice face to look at.
If he were to ask me out, I might consider saying yes.
A/N: I'm trying something new with the twitter screenshots... do u like
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In Real LifeTeen Fiction
Finding love as an asexual teenager is hard enough. Being an anonymous internet celebrity? Even harder, but it's fun as long as it stays anonymous. Eve didn't expect her Twitter account to blow up, and now that 'DukeCockroach' has millions of follow...