Not internet stalking Bella from press

“You remember Bella from press?”

“No. Have you ordered already?”

“Yeah just a coffee. She worked on press.”

“Show me her.”

<holds out Instagram>

“No… She was there when we were there?”

“Yeah. Basically I really liked her. This was years ago, yeah when we all worked there.”

“On the press desks?”

“Yeah. Never spoke to her. Never had a reason to speak to her. But, I swear, we’d always kinda look across the office and catch each other.”

“She was probably just looking because you were loo-”

“Noooo, I dunno. Maybe. I doubt it.”

“What and you never spoke to her?”

“So, I was in the lift. And she got in. And we’d never spoken, right. And we’re in the lift alone. It was excrutiating. So I think fuck it and go “Hey!”. And like, imagine this we’ve never spoken ever, she looks up and goes “Oh hi! I didn’t see you there. How are you?” Like we chat all the time. And I was like “Yeah, yeah fine.” whatever–”

“Why are you telling me this it’s really boring.”

“Well. I saw on Instagram her and her boyfriend have bought their first house. But you don’t know her. So none of this matters.”

“She has a boyfriend? Ha”

“He looks like a supermodel. They’ve been together years.”

“Why are you following her on Instagram if you’ve only spoken once?”

“I dunno. I was single. I gave a couple of likes to see if she’d follow back. She didn’t.”

“She probably didn’t appreciate you perving over her pics.”

“I didn’t ‘like’ her selfies. It would’ve been like a cute dog picture or something. ‘Liked’ it. Then left it a couple months and maybe liked another. I only liked about two. I’m not fucking mental. And, you know, she didn’t follow back so that was that. Haven’t liked one since.”

“But you still follow her.”

“I should probably unfollow.”

“Well you do have a girlfriend now.”

“Yeah but it’s weirder to unfollow. Like, making a point of unfollowing. Kinda exposes everything. Best to just leave it. Just a girl I worked with. Couple of likes, nothing back. All good.”

“Haha. Show me her again.”

<taps on Instagram profile picture and accidentally triggers Bella’s latest story>

“Fuck. It opened her fucking story.”

“She’s going to see you viewed that.”

“I know fuck.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s just autoplay, everyone watches everyone.”

“Yeah it’s just that–”


“So I sent her a LinkedIn message once too.”

Hahahaha you what?! Fucking InMail?!”

“No look, I did it before it was some creepy thing to do. Like, this was years ago, not recently.”

“It’s always creepy.”

“At the time, I thought it was classy. Like bumping into each other in a wine bar.”


“It was years ago. I was single.”

“Jesus Christ what else have you done.”

“I sponsored her once.”


“I got home drunk. And she’d posted a JustGiving thing on Facebook, raising money for–”

“How much.”

“20 quid.”

“20 pounds?! Haaaahaha. You’re a stalker.

“I was drunk as hell. I’m charitable. It’s not like, I don’t actively seek out her profile. It’s just in my feed. Anyway this was years ago.”

“20 pounds. That’s really desperate. £5 might’ve looked sort of casual, like yeah, it’s the sort of thing you do. £10 is a bit much. 20 though is ridiculous.”

“I was single. You know what it’s like being single. It’s a different world. You do things you wouldn’t normally do. It’s horrible. Trying to engineer situations on social networks to spark up a natural conversation. Fuck. No one wants to be doing it.”


“Like, how’s Tinder going for you?”

“I hate it.”

“Everybody hates it. You know anyone excited anymore? It’s all like, ‘urgh got two Tinder dates this week, I can’t be fucked.’ That’s Tinder. ‘How was your Tinder date?’ ‘<shrug>’

“You got this?”

“Yeah I’ll pay.”