Page 12 of The Emerson Effect
I pull up the message thread I now have going with him on BingBang. I stare at our previous messages for the longest while, then slowly type out a new message, sending it before I change my mind.
“Congrats on your video.”
There. That looks innocent enough if he decides to go back on his word and screenshot our conversations, but Emerson will catch the subtext. He’ll read my irritation in those four simple words, I’m sure.
A response pops up a second later, and my eyes widen in shock.
“Finally! Damn, woman, I’ve been waiting for you to reach out. I almost messaged you first like a million times. But I made myself wait until you were ready to talk about it. Aren’t you proud of me?”
My eyes snap from wide to narrow as I read the message again. He can’t really be this…this…energetically optimistic, can he? I’ve been stewing over reaching out to him for hours, and he’s apparently been bouncing off the walls with impatience. Like an overstimulated puppy.
Another message comes through before I can respond.
“Anyway, I have to thank you. I’ll be honest, I filmed that video just to tease you a bit. I had zero expectations because any time I’ve tried to post original content like that, it’s flopped. I just thought you’d see it and maybe have a laugh. But this? This could change my life. This could change both of our lives.”
“What do you mean?”I type out and send before I can stop myself.
I’m still reeling over his explanation that he was just trying to make me laugh. We don’t do that. We don’t haveanykind of relationship, much less the close kind that has inside jokes. Maybe he’s just saying that because it didn’t go the way he expected and he wants to cover his ass by sugar-coating it. If he was trying to troll me, it wouldn’t go over well with all his new fans.
“I mean we should lean into this, Twila. People get so wrapped up in strangers finding love on BingBang. If we pretend we’re getting to know each other and subsequently fall for each other through a series of videos that culminates in a trip for us to meet irl, the viewers would go feral. It would give us the giant boost we both need.”
Is he proposing a fake relationship? I know he’s right about how people following a “romance” like that accrues excited engagement on social media, but it feels really fucking risky. And why me? Why not approach any of the other content creators who’ve been tagged in the comments? Just because the video was, in fact, just for me?
This feels a bit like a trap.
I screenshot his message as proof it was his idea…you know, just in case. If I do decide to go along with this hairbrained scheme, it would be smart to have some evidence in case it all blows up in our faces. Then I send a response.
“I don’t know. I don’t like to lie to my followers.”
It doesn’t take him long to reply to that.
“Oh, come on, T. Don’t even try to convince me you liked those vegan cheese puffs you promoted a few months ago. You may have fooled the rest of the internet, but I could see the pain in your eyes every time you popped one into your mouth. Hell, I even ordered some just to test the theory, and they were disgusting.”
Annoyance wars with intrigue inside me. I don’t know whether to be worried or impressed that he seems to be able to read me so well. He doesn’t know me. He only knows what everyone else on BingBang knows––what I show them.
“And that’s the last time I’ll accept an advance before actually trying the product, first,”I type back.
He gets back on topic with his next message.
“We don’t have to say we’re dating. We can just flirt with each other in our videos. No tagging. Let people find us organically. Then after a while, we can confirm the videos are about each other. We can meet in San Diego or L.A., or somewhere else, entirely, and do a bunch of touristy stuff that viewers can relate to. We’ll ride it as long as we can while still posting our individual content. Then we’ll ‘break up,’ post a few sad videos, and then move on. It’s a win-win. There’s no downside.”
I don’t entirely disagree, but I don’t entirely agree, either. I say as much in my response.
“The downside is if people find out it’s not real, we could be cancelled and lose everything.”
Emerson isn’t ready to give up that easily, though.
“The only people who will know for sure are you, me, and the people we care about most. The people we trust. I’m assuming your inner circle would never buy a relationship between us?”
I bark out a laugh at that as I type back.
“Not in a million years.”
“Same,”he replies, and I ignore the little stitch in my chest as I read it.
Nope. Not going to try to analyze why his friends would never buy that he’s into me. He sends another message before I can lose myself too far down that particular rabbit hole.
“So we don’t have to lie to the people that matter, and we make this relationship look real. There will be naysayers. There always are. But no one will be able to prove it’s not authentic. Just say you’ll think about it. Please.”
