One Day

by David Nicholls

‘What are days for? Days are where we live. They come, they wake us Time and time over. They are to be happy in: Where can we live but days? Ah, solving that question Brings the priest and the doctor In their long coats Running over the fields.’ Philip Larkin, ‘Days’

‘That was a memorable day to me, for it made great changes in me. But, it is the same with any life. Imagine one selected day struck out of it and think how different its course would have been. Pause, you who read this, and think for a long moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on that memorable day.’ Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

‘I suppose the important thing is to make some sort of difference,’ she said. ‘You know, actually change something.’ ‘What, like “change the world”, you mean?’ ‘Not the whole entire world. Just the little bit around you.’

‘What’s wrong with travelling?’ ‘Avoiding reality more like.’ ‘I think reality is over-rated,’

What do you want to be when you’re forty?’

perempuan, stop butuh validasi tentang masa depan deh!

So I’ve given this whole “growing old” thing some thought and I’ve come to the decision that I’d like to stay exactly as I am right now.’

ops, wrong answer, Dex

and try not to think about the fact that you have nothing, absolutely nothing, to say to each other.’

why i find it funny tho

The problem with these fiercely individualistic girls was that they were all exactly the same.

He wanted to live life to the extreme, but without any mess or complications. He wanted to live life in such a way that if a photograph were taken at random, it would be a cool photograph. Things should look right. Fun; there should be a lot of fun and no more sadness than absolutely necessary.

‘Of course. If you want,’ he said gallantly, though in truth he had never really seen the point of cuddling. Cuddling was for great aunts and teddy bears. Cuddling gave him cramp. Best now to admit defeat and get home as soon as possible, but she was settling her head on his shoulder territorially,

LUCU BANGET GEMES

The trick of it, she told herself, is to be courageous and bold and make a difference. Not change the world exactly, just the bit around you. Go out there with your double-first, your passion and your new Smith Corona electric typewriter and work hard at … something. Change lives through art maybe. Write beautifully. Cherish your friends, stay true to your principles, live passionately and fully and well. Experience new things. Love and be loved if at all possible. Eat sensibly. Stuff like that.

isn't it too... utopic?

she had tremendous breasts, even if it was true, without her getting all offended).

man always describe woman like this, like.. why?

No lipstick but soft, raspberry-coloured lips that she kept tightly closed when she smiled as if she didn’t want to show her teeth, which were a little large for her mouth, the front tooth slightly chipped, all of this giving the impression that she was holding something back, laughter or a clever remark or a fantastic secret joke.

Tell her that you’re busy.

boy has commitment issue and it shows

life is failing to imitate art.

and she’s also got this thing about doing yoga warm-ups in her lingerie. There, that’s got your attention, hasn’t it?

lucu banget!!!!

Don’t give them that satisfaction.

Even her beloved Edinburgh had started to bore and depress her. Living in her University town felt like staying on at a party that everyone else had left, and so in October she had given up the flat in Rankeillor Street and moved back to her parents for a long, fraught, wet winter of recriminations and slammed doors and afternoon TV in a house that now seemed impossibly small.

Letters, like compilation tapes, were really vehicles for unexpressed emotions and she was clearly putting far too much time and energy into them.

I-hate-this-job-I-hate-this-job

Emma pressed her hands against her ears, and asked herself some fundamental questions. Why am I here? Am I really making a difference? Why can’t she put some clothes on? What is that smell? Where do I want to be right now? She wanted to be in Rome, with Dexter Mayhew. In bed.

while Tove was perching unsteadily on the edge of his bed and unzipping her knee-length boots. Even then, in the muddle of red wine and desire he had found himself wondering what Emma Morley would say.

gila banget u dexter

what was all this to do with Emma anyway?

‘Ten more minutes,’ she whispered in his ear, and he sank back to the floor. Why not, he thought? After all, I’m in Rome, it’s a beautiful day. I am twenty-four years old, financially secure, healthy. I ache and I am doing something that I shouldn’t be doing, and I am very, very lucky.

The attraction of a life devoted to sensation, pleasure and self would probably wear thin one day, but there was still plenty of time for that yet.

Did you get the books I sent you?

this is a love language

Primo Levi is a fine Italian writer. It’s to remind you that life isn’t all gelati and espadrilles. Life can’t always be like the opening of Betty Blue.

‘Just kidding’ was exactly what people wrote when they meant every word.

God I miss you, Dex

‘Is she now? Well I’m not so sure. In fact I think she likes you.’ ‘Everyone likes me. It’s my curse.’

buset... punya placement libra u ya dexter

Journalism would mean grappling with difficult stuff like words and ideas,

At this stage in his life, his main criterion for choosing a career was that it should sound good in a bar, shouted into a girl’s ear, and there was no denying that ‘I’m a professional photographer’ was a fine sentence, almost up there with ‘I report from war zones’ or ‘actually, I make documentaries.’

‘You must do it, Dexter, if that’s what you want.’

if only we have parents as supportive as Dexter's mom

‘I just mean that at some point you’ll have to get serious about life, that’s all. You’re young and healthy and you look nice enough, I suppose, in a low light. People seem to like you, you’re smart, or smart enough, not academically maybe, but you know what’s what. And you’ve had luck, so much luck, Dexter, and you’ve been protected from things, responsibility, money. But you’re an adult now, and one day things might not be this …’ She looked around her, indicating the scenic little back street down which he had brought her. ‘… this serene. It would be good if you were prepared for that. It would do you good to be better equipped.’

‘Not just that, not just a job. A direction. A purpose. Some drive, some ambition. When I was your age I wanted to change the world.’

Not only is it a rich and ancient civilization but you wouldn’t BELIEVE what you can get in the chemists without a prescription.

lol at the description of india

You can’t throw years of your life away because it makes a funny anecdote.

I think you’re scared of being happy, Emma. I think you think that the natural way of things is for your life to be grim and grey and dour and to hate your job, hate where you live, not to have success or money or God forbid a boyfriend

I think you actually get a kick out of being disappointed and under-achieving, because it’s easier, isn’t it? Failure and unhappiness is easier because you can make a joke out of it.

Well I think you deserve more. You are smart and funny and kind (too kind if you ask me) and by far the cleverest person I know. And (am drinking more beer here – deep breath) you are also a Very Attractive Woman. And (more beer) yes I do mean ‘sexy’ as well, though I feel a bit sick writing it down. Well I’m not going to scribble it out because it’s politically incorrect to call someone ‘sexy’ because it is also TRUE. You’re gorgeous, you old hag, and if I could give you just one gift ever for the rest of your life it would be this. Confidence.

We can live for months, Em, me and you,

SHHHIIITTTTTT

(By the way, my mother has a theory about you and me, and if you meet me at the Taj Mahal I will tell you all about it, but only if you meet me.)

SHIT SHIT SHIT JUST FUCKING SAY THAT U LOVE HER?!

Did he really want Emma with him in India, laughing at his tattoo, making smart remarks? Would he have to kiss her at the airport? Would they have to share a bed? Did he really want to see her that much? Yes, he decided, he did. Because for all its obvious idiocy, there was a sincere affection, more than affection, in what he had written and he would definitely post it that night. If she over-reacted, he could always say he was drunk. That much at least was true.

nangis

But there was no address on the envelope and no return address for ‘Dexter’ either.

yailah...dah tuh ga kekirim suratnya?? anjim

Once, she had thought she could conquer London. She had imagined a whirl of literary salons, political engagement, larky parties, bittersweet romances conducted on Thames embankments. She had intended to form a band, make short films, write novels, but two years on the slim volume of verse was no fatter, and nothing really good had happened to her since she’d been baton-charged at the Poll Tax Riots.

yup i get that

There was a recession on and people were clinging to their jobs with grim determination.

She no longer believed that a situation could be made better by writing a poem about it.

Even so this would be the third girlfriend, lover, whatever, that she had met in the last nine months, Dexter presenting them up to her like a dog with a fat pigeon in his mouth. Was it some kind of sick revenge for something?

this mf jerk

‘Hey, look, is there any way I can, you know …’ ‘What?’ ‘Give you the money for the drinks.’ Emma stared blankly. ‘I don’t understand.’ ‘What I mean is, is there any way I can, you know, tip you?’ ‘Tip me?’ ‘Exactly. Tip you.’ ‘Why?’ ‘No reason, Em,’ said Dex. ‘I just really, really want to tip you,’ and Emma felt another small portion of her soul fall away.

this mf jerk!!!

‘Maybe they’re in love.’ ‘And is that what love looks like – all wet mouths and your skirt rucked up?’