Two ill-fated romances from the 90s
Click above for a spoken version of this newsletter, read by me.
Hello friends. So these past few weeks I’ve been doing a few different things with my teenage diaries that I’d love to tell you about.
First, reading from them out loud to a group of mostly strangers in a pub
Then chatting about them, and the 90s in general, as a guest on a 90s nostalgia podcast
Both of these events were a lot of fun while also being totally new territory for me, shoving me out of my comfort zone, like new things often do. And should, so we can learn and grow and all that.
I’ll tell you about my experience at both of these happenings, and — of course — I’ll share some diary extracts. I’ll also give you some teasers about what I chatted about on the 90s podcast, which goes out on March 14th. It’s called It’ll Be Alright In The 90s, and you can listen to it in all the usual podcast places, like Apple, Spotify, Google podcasts, and YouTube.
First: reading my diary to (mostly) strangers in a pub
Okay, so it was a small-ish group of about 15 people, and they were a really receptive and friendly bunch. They’d come down to York Zine Club to do some creative stuff at a Teenage Diary/Galentines themed workshop, and the reading was planned, so it’s not like I sprung it on anyone. As you might imagine this was a really informal and chilled event.
(If you’re not sure what a zine is, here are the ones I make. Sometimes I make them about my teenage diaries, so you might enjoy taking a look. And if zines are new to you, click here for the wiki entry if you’re curious.)
So although I knew it’d be a friendly crowd, I did feel a bit nervous beforehand. I wondered if the diary extracts I’d prepared were amusing enough, or if I’d come across as self-indulgent, or if my voice would do that shaky thing voices do when eyes are on you. Just the usual inner-critic crap we all get when venturing into what feels ‘unknown’.
However … once I was reading I was fine, I hit my stride and genuinely enjoyed myself. Over the years I’ve read at a few writerly events, and it’s always the same: nervous, then I get into it and enjoy it.
Here’s a photo of me reading. Well, pretending to read (see note below). Taken by artist Jade Blood, co-founder of York Zine Fest and organiser of the event.
The moment captured there is actually a reconstruction, taken after the reading and during the workshop — because we forgot to get an actual pic as I read! But you get the idea. Me: standing, reading, smiling, cringing.
I also had some lovely conversations with the attendees about their experiences of diary writing, and someone else also brought their very own teenage diaries along from the 90s — so we got a bonus reading!
And then they cut them up and made new art/zines with them, which I thought was very cool and brave but also not something I could imagine doing… it made me realise I am quite ‘attached’ to the physical copies of my diaries, like they’re precious relics or something. But then I guess they are (to me), and having them intact is essential for this project here, plus any future ways I might choose to share or work with them.
The only thing that went less than smooth was that the bar where we held the event was open to others and it was a wee bit noisy at times, so I had to raise my voice — while reading a terrible story I wrote at age 13 about a fictional romance with a fictional American boy I chose to name Carl. (More on that below.)
And I guess that need to adapt and go with whatever is happening as an event unfolds is what sets these experiences apart — both the reading and guesting on a podcast — from my usual way of sharing my diaries, here. Essentially, I couldn’t go back in time and edit myself.
And as a writer, that’s hard!
Editing is usually how we make things sound ‘good’, or at least closer to what we want to express. Real life doesn’t let me pause or rewind to do that, which is so annoying.
I found my inability to time travel more of a challenge when it came to guesting on the 90s podcast. And I’ll be honest and tell you that after the recording I messaged Stu and Alex, the hosts, to say I felt some of my answers weren’t that great and I’d be happy to record them again. They assured me I didn’t need to do that.
I knew I was probably over-thinking it, but I just kept having ‘better’ ideas for answers or ways of saying what I wanted to say the day after our interview. Kind of how when you have an argument with someone you think of the perfect comeback hours later. Or, if you’re British, you think of the perfect thing to say when someone does something outrageous like not obeying the rules of queuing or not saying thanks when you open a door for them.
Rest assured, there was no such anarchy on the podcast. Stu and Alex are very gracious hosts, and I was so happy to be invited on; it’s about the 90s so of course it’s right up my street. On a regular episode they do a lot of reminiscing and dissecting, and they chat about things like what was the most 90s haircut, or who was the most 90s chef, most 90s chocolate bar, all of that.
So, aside from my inner, ‘Am I saying this right?’ angst, I had fun and relished the opportunity to talk about the 90s, and to share my experience of growing up in such a different time. I got to choose some of my favourite 90s things, like my favourite film, music, tv show, car…
And we interspersed the chat with me reading from my diaries. I was over-prepared on that front; see below for the (colour-coded!) list I had ready.
We only got to cover three of these items … but which three? You can find out on 14th March when the episode goes out!
I’ll write to you again next week when the podcast has aired, but in the meantime do follow It’ll Be Alright In The 90s on Insta and Twitter, and check out the podcast itself on Apple, Spotify, Google, or YouTube.
Time for some diary shares
At the zine club reading, I told the stories of two very different yet equally ill-fated ‘romantic’ relationships from when I was younger.
The first was ill-fated in the sense that neither myself or the boy in question had any romantic interest in each other; the second was extra-doomed because although this boyfriend was very interested in me, he did not exist. I made him up. In a short story, written in my diary. Just for myself.
That story might as well have been titled, “What I Think It Would Be Like If I Met A Boy And We Spent A Perfect Day Together, Mostly Snogging Around A Version Of Doncaster That Has A Beach And Also A Theme Park.”
But let’s start with the real life occurrence. This happened in May 1992, when I was 11. (Just after all of that best friend drama, if you’re a regular reader. It was a busy month for me!)
So on May 22nd 1992 I came home from school and I was EXCITED: Something good has happened, I state in my diary. I explain that I have a boyfriend — and then immediately start to downplay it:
Kissing or dancing was the epitome of seriousness, and I was not ready for that!
It seems I wasn’t ready for much at all, because on the next page, just to be extra clear, I put the things I did not want to happen into a numbered list:
(The bit about not being able to go to the pics was about a cinema trip with friends; for some reason I couldn’t go. But who cares when you’re young and in love not in love?)
So what was going on, exactly? Why all the resistance?
Well, as I mentioned, James and I had no romantic interest in each other. We’d succumbed to peer pressure, cajoled into ‘going out’ because our classmates had noticed we got on well. And as was the law of being a young person at school, if you seemed to get on with someone of the opposite sex, you had to go out with them.
So James and I agreed to this and it totally killed our friendship. We didn’t speak to each other for the five weeks this carried on for. I just continued writing in my diary about the things I didn’t want to happen, while also being somewhat happy about the situation in general because having a boyfriend was some kind of ‘norm’ and it felt like that was part of becoming an adult, or graduating into the next level of being in society, I guess.
And because neither me nor James had any intention of kissing or dancing or even simply communicating — it was kind of perfect!
But strange, very strange.
And I guess it (whatever ‘it’ was) couldn’t last. It ended in a very funny way. After all of my resistance and after five weeks of ignoring eachother, James did a really dastardly thing: he asked another girl out at the Youth Club!
You’d think I wouldn’t have been bothered, but I was. I really was. A woman scorned.
I picked up my multicoloured pen and let rip in my diary, turning the air blue:
Note: Polo was my goldfish, not sure why I inserted his death into all the DRAMA, maybe to show that many things had died that day?
Pausing only to change the colour on my multicoloured pen, I continued:
So angry I couldn’t even write on the lines!
You may need the transcript for the above:
So you’re thinking what happened with James? Well that stupid ***** ****ing B****** chucked me cause apperantly at the Youthy he was asking ______ out.
He’s just a user but if someone else went out with him I’d leave it to them to find out what he’s really like.
How nice of me!
Anyway, all of this happened just before the summer holidays, and wonderfully, that long break acted as a reset for me and James and our genuine friendship. We started secondary school in September 1992 and simply acted like none of the above had happened. We stayed friends throughout our teens, and enjoyed making fun of this ridiculous thing from when we were kids.
We’re still in touch now, and I thank James for being a good sport and not minding that I use his real name here. In fact, as I said last time, when I messaged him about this, he said if I gave him a fake name he’d be ‘livid’. He recently got married, and I just hope his new husband knows what a USER he is. That’s all I can say.
In 2022, before I started this project, I actually created a zine about this saga. It’s called ‘First “Boyfriend”’ and has a few more extracts in than what I had space for here. You can take a look at here in my Etsy store.
Ready for some actual romance, dear reader?
Well, we’re fast-forwarding two years for this one. I might have been terrified of having a boyfriend at the age of 11 but by 13 I was LAD MAD.
I still hadn’t experienced a real-life romance, so I turned to my creative skills and passion for writing and … made a boyfriend up.
He was 13, American, had hair cut into curtains, and I named him Carl.
But where did this dreamboat come from?
I decided he was staying with my next door neighbours — how convenient — and I had spotted him in their garden. I was desperate to talk to him, so I took a football outside with the intention of kicking it over the fence so I could ask for it back. Smooth.
Remember this is all fictional. All in my imagination.
But I didn’t even have to kick the ball over — because Carl immediately sprang into action when he saw me, and after just five minutes of chatting over the fence I was offering to take him to Doncaster Beach and he was jumping at the chance and saying we should have a picnic.
I’m actually going to write a separate post where I properly go into this story because it’s quite long and a lot happens — even though it all takes place in the space of a day (I had to be home for 5.30pm for my tea, you see) but for now I just want to share my favourite part: the part where we’re about to have our first kiss.
We’re on Doncaster Beach, we’ve had a picnic and a water fight in the sea (!) and things are about to get steamy. And a bit science-y.
Oh Teresa, you and your pleading eyes.
I’ll leave it there but hope you’ve enjoyed the catch up and the shares. As ever, if you think someone you know will like this, feel free to forward it or share on social media.
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I’ll be back next week with more about my podcast appearance, and I think I might try something new when I share more of the story of Carl and his ability to stare into my retinas … maybe by doing an audio or video recording of me reading? I’ll experiment and see what works!
Let me know if you have any ideas. Or, if you just want to say hi, you can reply to this email, leave a comment if you’re reading on Substack, or drop by Instagram.
See you soon,
Teresa x
Woooah you did a reading. And, woooah... This is so intense. Yes, very strange. And very funny!!
I love love a public diary reading! And the idea of making up the perfect boyfriend... brilliant.