Dear One Direction,
I hate you. Or, well, I wanted to hate you. Unfortunately, however, I do not hate you. Rather, I hate what you’re doing to me.
To be honest, I thought you guys were all fifteen. That’s not an
insult! You all have a certain boyish charm! Imagine my surprise when I
Googled you and realized you were a year older than my age. Actually, this will work out
when we date, because I’m soon to be 18 and just recently stopped getting
children’s menus at restaurants. (Yes, we’re going to date. I can’t say
for sure whether there will be a rotation, or if we’ll all date at the
same time. We can hash out the details over some tacos. I hear you like
tacos, Harry.)For weeks, I literally couldn’t tell you guys apart. My twelve-year-old cousin painstakingly tried to break it down for me by highlighting each of your unique qualities; I remained convinced, however, that we now had five British Justin Biebers running amok, and I just didn’t need that kind of turmoil in my life… especially after my Cody Simpson phase, during which I screamed “iYiYiYiYi!” for weeks on end and hated myself.
For instance, I hear that you, Harry, have kissed two fans. Why not make it three? I’ve never kissed a boy before.
You should probably be my first kiss, because one day when I’m famous
(for inventing something wildly unnecessary but inexplicably popular,
like the Snuggie, or for rescuing a child from a rogue lion at the zoo),
it’ll be one of those fun facts they put on-screen at the theater while
you’re waiting for the movie to start. It’ll say “Fun Fact: Dana Saracen’s first kiss was Harry Styles.” And people will say, “Wow! That is
a fun fact!” But if you’re not game for a smooch, how about a
handshake? A fist bump? Maybe eye contact? Can you imagine what my
cousin would say if I told her I made eye contact with Harry Styles?
I’d be the Cool Older Cousin, which would rectify a certain un-coolness
I boasted when I kept getting your band’s name wrong like some kind of
really out-of-touch senior citizen. (I kept calling you “New Direction”
or “Old Direction,” and she gave me this absolutely scathing look that said, “You’re dead to me.”)
I’m following you all on Twitter. You should follow me
on Twitter. This will help our burgeoning relationship. I can get
regular updates and watch as you do interviews and travel around the
world, and in return you can watch as I try to do perfectly ordinary
things like use public transportation and somehow wind up paying
homeless men twenty-five cents for knock-knock jokes.
Look, let me break it down for you. I need you all to stop
being so charming and likable and START ratcheting up some realistic
human flaws! Your hair’s too smooth, Liam, and Harry, your smile is too
adorable! Niall, your laugh is FAR too contagious! There are YouTube videos dedicated to your constant giggling! And Louis? You look way too good shirtless, so get that under control. ALL of your accents are way too attractive, so those will have to go. And Zayn? Come on,
Zayn! I was recently watching an interview in which you were facing the
camera directly and saying words, but I lost track of everything
because your eyes started to twinkle.
I’m serious. I do not kid about twinkling eyes. How did you even do
that? Was it a conscious move on your part to render countless girls
suddenly bamboozled? You could’ve been saying, “You know, sometimes I
think we should reenact the Donner Party tragedy for a reality TV show,
except with kittens,” and I would’ve been nodding enthusiastically.
Also, the depth and intensity with which you stared into the camera made
me feel as if you were staring into the darkest corners of my soul.
(Stop that.)It doesn’t help that your music is so damn catchy. Not all of it, but enough that I want to buy everything to satisfy what I’m convinced is an evolutionary-based NEED to dance. I also saw you on iCarly, and I haven’t been that jealous of Miranda Cosgrove since she got to spend YEARS with Drake Bell and Josh Peck and basically live the life I always wanted.
I hope you’re all happy. You know, I was perfectly happy before I had this all-consuming obsession akin to the Freddie Prinze Jr. infatuation of 2011. Congratulations. You have awoken the untamable beast within me. I’m a Directioner now, and I am neither proud nor ashamed—it’s simply a path I must take, a destiny I had to choose. I’ve known it for some time—perhaps I knew it all along.
Dana Saracen
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