First of all, it was a Monday and just generally wasn’t worth the Franklin Covey paper it was printed on.
Then, I woke to news about One Direction maybe breaking up and thought, “Ok, I can handle that because then Larry can come out without all that boy band pressure keeping ’em down,” but then Niall tweeted they were just “on a break” and that means … STILL NO LARRY, but maybe more music, so now I’m just feeling confused and sad and cheated out of Larry Stylinson for President 2016.
But then I read this letter from Joey Fatone (from N*SYNC, remember?) to Liam, Niall and Louis and my day turned right round, baby, right round. Like a record.
Then I found some sort of dog vomit with grass in it in my daughter’s room. Right as we were leaving the house.
It was, George Michael. Thank you.
But then, Sam Claflin posted this on instagram:
… and we cried, Precious. Where did he get those tights? Did JoJo send them to him with his copy of the book? Did he take them from the Me Before You set? Did he run out to Marks&Spencer and buy them himself? SO MANY QUESTIONS.
But mainly, every time I see Sam Claflin now I’m going to cry because WHY CAN’T YOU LIVE, SAM? WHY.
Also, a note: He hashtagged #tights and he tagged Matthew Lewis. Forget the photo, this is social media work at its finest.
But Sam’s post reminded me that it was THE DAY … you know the day. The day that JoJo Moyes released the first chapter of After You, aka the Most Unnecessary Book Ever Written That I Will Obviously Read and Recommend Obsessively. And that meant I had to put aside my crappy Monday and go read about Lou’s. If you haven’t read it yet. Sit down, sir. Then let us commiserate.
Let’s Break This Down
Dammit, Lou. Could you possibly have chosen a more depressing occupation for post-Will life? I’ve spent more time in airports this year than I have every year of my life prior put together. And I cannot think of a sadder place to work every day than an airport bar, watching people get ready for life-changing adventures, or meeting loved ones, or even arguing with ticket agents, begging to get home. Sure, there are plenty of miserable people at airports, but they eventually … EVENTUALLY … leave. Isn’t it more miserable to be the one going nowhere admidst all that misery? GAH.
Ok, fine. I get your point, JoJo Lou. source
I’ll concede to the crappy circumstances. After all, Will is dead and … OMG DID I JUST TYPE THAT? Excuse me, I’m gonna go get a shitty job at the East City airport now because Heathrow is just too damn fancy for my feelings.
But Lou, did your sadness have to extend to that bottle of white wine? What did the wine do to you? Take care of that bottle, Lou.
No one deserves “lip-pursingly sour” pinot grig.
The anger at Will I get. I even understand the insomnia. The depression. The tinder hook up with Jared (ooof, that name is unfortunate). But did you have to let those plants die and then say you aren’t good at looking after things? STOP BEING SO HARD ON YOURSELF, LOU. Be hard on Will.
“Fuck you, Will,” I whisper. “Fuck you for leaving me.”
THIS. 100%. You go, girl.
Grief wells up again like a sudden tide, intense, overwhelming.
Dammit, Lou. DAMN YOU, WILL.
Oh, and that ending. HAHAHAHAHAHA. Oh, JoJo. You jokester. What a perfectly sane place to end a teaser. I can wait another MONTH for the rest of the book. No problem.
After You is out September 29th in the US and you can pre-order it just about everywhere. And why wouldn’t you? Because you KNOW you have to find out who it is on that rooftop and whether or not he’s hot.
What are looking forward to more? Me Before You in theaters next year or the release of After You? YOU HAVE TO CHOOSE!
