Mars? Yeah Right!

Chapter 1

1

Have you ever wondered what the secret of life is? Because I think I've come close to solving the mystery.

 Granted, I'm not one hundred per cent sure this is the answer, but it's pretty damn near it if you ask me.

Okay. Deep breath. Here it is:

Boys. Are aliens.

I know what you're thinking now. You're thinking, here we go again. Another novel about some girl who's a complete man-hating feminist but is actually secretly in love with her lead singer slash male model best friend and, after thirty-two chapters of cruel social injustice, ends up going out with him as well as becoming Prom Queen at the end of the book.

Okay, three things.

One: If that's the kind of crap you people normally read, then you really need to keep reading this,

Two: I live in Ireland. We don't even have prom,

And three: My best friend is a girl and the only thing even remotely model-like about her is her obscene tallness (damn her).

Right. Back to my theory.

I came up with this conclusion based on my numerous emotionally-scarring encounters with the species. I know I sound like I'm being really dramatic and self- pitying, but I'm actually serious about it. The scarring, I mean.

You see, I found out a long time ago that the only males who show even the slightest bit of interest in me are complete freaks and/or perverts. It's like I have some kind of freaking transmitter inside me that allows all of Ireland's sadsacks to locate me in, like, seconds.

You don't believe me? Well, let me give you some examples.

Exhibit A: Those horrifying two months in sixth class when Fiachra O' Brian decided that I was the love of his life, even though we'd just met the day before! He basically cyber-stalked me by leaving, like, fifty voicemails and text messages every day  forcing me to keep my mobile turned off for days at a time. He gave up eventually, but not before he'd managed to inform the entire freaking town of his undying devotion. It was about five months before anyone let me forget it.

And if that's not enough, we also have

Exhibit B: The week at the end of second year when this guy, Stewert (Who, by the way, I've never even met) kept on hassling Kayla for my phone number and picture just because she happened to mention I was blonde. He said some truely disgusting things about me, prompting Raonid to forever christen him Pervy Stu.  Thank God he found that Italien girl when he went on holiday and lost interest. Because it was truely creepy.

There have been many more incidents I could tell you about to prove my point, such as the time when a completely random guy asked me to get with him at a Gaelic match, or the time on holidays when a big group of English guys started saying really creepy stuff about me when they thought I couldn't hear them, but then I'd be talking forever and you'd all get bored and feck off to find one of those "Feminist-dates-a-male-model" books you like so much.

Which would leave me talking to myself.

I mean, I do that anyway, but at least then it's by choice (most of the time).

So I'll leave it at that and hope I've convinced you this much.

So anyway. That's part of the reason why I think that boys are another species altogether and the wold's governments are conspiring against the female population by conceling the life-changing fact that We Are Not Alone for fear that our supposedly inferior brains won't be able to handle the Ultimate Truth. I mean, no self-resecting woman would do these things, so why do guys do them?

 I should probably tell you now that when I explained my hypothesis to my best friend, Teresa, she wasn't exactly supportive. She was just like "Aine. What are you talking about?"

But then again, she also thinks I'm lucky that whenever I go anywhere I unwittingly find myself being stalked by various freakshows and/or perverts.

The scary thing is, these guys are always like three or four years older than me. And whenever this happens I'm always just like "HELLO?! How old do you think I AM?!"

But Teresa says I should just be happy with all the attention. Teresa's kind of weird that way. Her advice to ward off all the creeps was to dye my hair and, if I couldn't do that, to never wear red.

Needless to say, I never asked for her help again.

So that was when I came up with the whole alien thing. Though like I said before, nobody seems to take this idea very seriously.

But whatever. I still think it's brilliant.

Don't get me wrong, it's not like I hate boys. Well, okay, I kind of do, But it's not like most of them like me very much either. I think it's because I have a tendency to respond very quickly whenever they insult me, instead of acting like a "normal girl" i.e., by crying and/or giggling like a moron.

It's true. I have seen girls do this.

I mean come on. I know being called a bimbo is hurtful, but why do I have to act like a freaking two year old about it instead of an actual person, i.e., by defending myself.

 Anyway, boys don't seem to like girls who are better at insults than they are, so it's not surprising really that most of my enemies (And believe me, there are a lot) are male.

Actually, it was around the time when I'd made yet another douche bag of a guy wish he'd never challenged Aine Corcoran to a slagging match that I realised something vital about guykind.

And here it is:

You know that American guy who wrote that world-famous book about relationships? Yeah, he was wrong. Men aren't from Mars at all.

Because that planet's just too damn close.

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Greetings slaves (Just kidding)! I'm using this bit to inform you that I will be using this story to broadcast the awesomness of whatever song I'm currently fixated with. Today it's Terrible Love by The National (video on the side). Ever since I heard it on the new Vodafone ad I've been, like, OBSESSED with it!! Let me know what you think of it when you're commenting on the sheer awesomness (don't deny it!!) of my story! That's all for now. so remember: Vote/Comment/Fan!