Reality And Romance

Chapter 6

Libby was crying.

She had come straight into work, avoided Diane and Chris and locked herself inside the lost and found. She couldn’t deal with what had happened, the papers, the magazines and especially the internet…they hated her. Everywhere she looked all she found were nasty comments, vile and degrading. Things about her hair, her weight, even things about her race. Everyone was sure about one thing though and that was that she wasn’t good enough for Andrew.

Libby smashed her fists against the desk as the tears poured down her face. She cared so much about him, she might even have loved him, but she couldn’t live like this. If Libby was sure of one thing it was that nobody had a right to say these things about her, like they knew her, like they knew her relationship. It made her feel like less of a person, like she was an accessory to be scrutinized and criticized. Libby wouldn’t stand for it.

“Fu*k them,” Libby cried out, a ragged broken scream.

“Libby,” Came a soft voice, as the door slowly opened. “Libby…are you okay?”

Libby turned round, it was Andrew. His eyes were red, circled with a dark shadow and his skin looked pale and worn.

“No, I’m not fu*king okay,” Libby replied, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m not doing it Andrew…I’m not… I can’t…..fu*k.”

Libby sank to the floor, hyperventilating. She tried to talk, but the words caught in her throat.

Andrew knelt down next to her. “What those people said…Libby you need to understand, that’s not reality…that’s not you.” Gently, he took her face in his hands and wiped the tears from her eyes. This only made her cry harder.

“I love you Andrew. I do. Fu*k if I would have gone on if I didn’t. But I can’t do that again.”

Andrew’s body stiffened, “What do you mean?”

“How can we have a relationship if every time we’re in public I have to pretend to be someone I’m not? How am I supposed to put on an act every fu*king day, and then get fu*king humiliated for it?” She rose from the table, shaking with anger. “I can’t do it Andrew. I can’t do it!”

“It’s only for…”

“No Andrew, it’s not only for the fu*king cameras,” she spat. “You know as well as I do that I’ll have to keep doing this every single time I leave the fu*king apartment. That’s why you designed the costumes, isn’t it!?”

Andrew let out a long sigh. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something else. But he didn’t instead he turned around. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Libby didn’t respond. Instead she sank back down to the floor, curled her arms around her knees and sobbed harder. She loved Andrew so much, but she didn’t know how she could cope with any of what was happening.

True to his word Andrew returned shortly, only now he was carrying a laptop under his arms.

“Libby stop crying,” he instructed, opening it up. “I want to show you something.”

It took her a few moments to collect herself. She breathed deeply and after a while her breathing returned to normal, although tears still rolled down her cheeks. Sighing, Andrew moved over towards her, helping her up from a curled ball on the floor, helping her stand so that she could see the laptop.

Satisfied that Libby could now see, Andrew began to type.

At first, he just typed in his own name, and scrolled to a site with a message board about the show. It wasn’t long before Libby realized what he was showing her. It was the comments.

“Read them,” Andrew instructed.

Libby did as he asked, and was horrified. Person upon person attacked Andrew, his looks, the way he spoke, although the main subject brought into question was his intelligence. Moreover, a vast majority of the comments were directed towards the women that said they found him attractive. Mocking the media’s perception of him as ‘intense.’ ‘He’s not intense, he’s a fu*king idiot’ said one. “Do you think those books he reads have pictures in them?” was another, and this comment had been replied to by a third person, who had responded, “Do you seriously believe he can read?” They looked at these for a couple of minutes, the remarks becoming nastier, and nastier the deeper he looked. Libby asked him to stop, but he shook his head and instead he typed in his brother’s and mother’s name. First was Johnny, he had less nasty comments, but instead what could be found was pages upon pages of rumors questioning why he had so many girlfriends. Was he a cheat? Was his di*k too small? Others mused on whether or not he had caught an STD from one of his numerous girlfriends. Following the trend was Aaron, who’s name bought up hundreds of posts, all full of homophobic and sexist slurs, foul things about what they thought should happen too ‘faggots like him.’ Finally, he typed in his mother’s name and sure enough, half the page was filled with magazines running entire stories about how her looks were fading, how she was a cougar and whether or not she was a ‘controlling bitch.’

Libby was horrified, these people making these comments, they were foul.

“Not nice are they?” Said Andrew, shutting the lid of the laptop.

Libby shook her head, “These people are fu*king horrible.”

Andrew nodded, “Correct.” He agreed, before turning to face her. “So, now I have a question for you. How would you respond, if me, or Johnny, or Aaron, or God bless her, even my mother came to you, telling you that these people had said these things? Would you tell them to believe it? Would you respond by telling them that these opinions have credibility? Would you think they were right to listen to them and question themselves?”

“No!” Libby responded immediately. “Your family is lovely. These people are fu*king assholes who get off on spreading lies and nastiness!”

“Exactly. So tell me Libby. Why are you listening to these assholes? Should you give them the power to dictate your behavior and more importantly, the way you feel about yourself?”

“No, I guess I shouldn’t.” Libby said quietly, realizing what Andrew had been trying to tell her.

Andrew allowed himself to smile. “So if you wouldn’t want my family to feel bad about themselves because of these comments, if you think they hold no bearing on how people actually are in real life, do you think that you, who is so good and so kind and so fu*king wonderful to me, should believe one word of this sh*t? Even for a f*cking minute?”

“No, I guess not,” Libby said, and with the realization her tears began to ebb. “I still don’t like having to lie about who I am though. I still don’t want our relationship to be about that…” She sighed. “Part of what bothers me is that they’re not even judging the real me. It would be…bearable, if they hated me for who I am, but this stone cold, ice-queen bi*ch that I’m pretending to be? Even I don’t like her.”

“As for that problem….the producers and my mother were wrong to tell you to put on a persona for the cameras.” He ran an agitated hand through his hair. “I guess it’s just that we’ve all been doing it. We’ve had our personalities dictated to us for so long that at this point it seems normal. But that’s not you and from now on you don’t have to do that and…and neither will I. Now I’m with you I’ll have to let that go. “

“Are you sure?” Libby sniffed. “I don’t want you to harm your career, not after you’ve worked so hard…”

Andrew shook his head. “It won’t harm my career. The reason I stay out of the limelight is for the same reason you’re in here crying now. I’m afraid of what they’ll say. The less I reveal about myself, the fewer nasty things they’ll have to post about me. Look, Libby…I might seem fine now, but there is not one member of that house that has not cried in a bathroom about the nasty sh*t posted about them at one time or another.”

Libby looked up, “Really?”

Andrew nodded, meeting her gaze and holding it, “Really.”