Read Not That Easy for Free Online Page A

admit:
    I’ve never been on a dating site before.
    I’m looking for:
    Whatever happens.
    You should message me if:
    You want to.
    â€œWhat
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.
    â€œNooo, 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?”
    â€œDrum 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.
    â€œBabe, you don’t really
jump
to drum and bass,” said Emma, before catching sight of my face. “Okay, okay, 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?”
    â€œExactly,” 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?”
    â€œWe 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.”
    â€œBut this isn’t me being myself. It’s me trying to be the kind of girl guys like.”
    â€œExactly,” said Emma. “Guys will like it.”
    â€œUh, 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.”
    â€œIt’s just playing them at their own game,” replied Emma, wavingher 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.”
    â€œWell . . . 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.”
    â€œYeah, it’s that too,” said Emma. “But I was talking about the concept, not the book.”
    â€œEither 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.”
    â€œOkay, 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.”

4
    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.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    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 eight a.m.
    I clicked on HotDog69 and gagged. His profile picture was a topless selfie, and his beer belly—covered in sparse pube-like hairs—was glaring