MidReal Story

I want to date Justin Bieber. I am Cici.

Scenario: I want to date Justin Bieber. I am Cici.
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I want to date Justin Bieber. I am Cici.
Chapter One: Cici
I was going to marry Justin Bieber.
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I just had to figure out how to make him notice me.
From the moment I first heard his voice, I knew he was the one. I’d been fourteen years old, sitting in my bedroom with my earbuds in, listening to the radio station that played all the hits. His first single, “One Time,” was on the airwaves, and it was like nothing I’d ever heard before. His voice had more range, more emotion and more raw sex appeal than any other pop star I’d ever heard.
I was hooked.
All through high school, while my friends were swooning over the cute boys in our math class or the hot jocks on the football team, I was dreaming of Justin. I didn’t talk about it much. My parents were immigrants from Korea and they were far more interested in my academic success than my love life. But whenever I had a free moment to myself, you could be sure I was researching Justin online. I joined fan clubs. I downloaded his music. I scoured his Instagram and Twitter feeds for every clue about his private life.
I daydreamed about him constantly. It wasn’t just about dating him. It was about being with him. Hearing his voice whisper in my ear. Feeling his strong arms around me. Seeing that mischievous glint in his eye when he looks at me. I spent hours imagining what it would be like to be his girlfriend, to be loved by him.
Now that I’m finally in college, I’ve decided to make my dream come true.
I’ve spent the last three years working on a plan, and now it’s time to put it into action.
I’m going to get Justin’s attention by going viral.
I’m going to become a social media superstar.
I’m going to become famous.
I know exactly how to do it. First, I have to post something so outrageous, so shocking or so hilarious that people will want to watch it over and over again. Then I have to get it shared by someone who’s already famous. That’s the tricky part, but I think I’ve got it figured out.
I’ve been following the career of a young woman named Tina Tran for a while now. She’s a local girl who started posting funny videos on YouTube when she was still in high school, and now she’s got millions of followers on Instagram and Snapchat and Twitter. She’s even got her own reality show on E! called Tina Takes Texas. Her family is Vietnamese immigrant and they run a nail salon here in Austin. Tina is super funny and super talented, and I really think she can help me make my dream come true.
I sit down at my computer and open up iMovie. It only takes me fifteen minutes to put all the pieces together. Then I send the video file to Tina through her website. Two days later, she posts it on her Instagram feed with the caption: “This girl is crazy! You won’t believe what she did!”
My phone starts blowing up immediately.
The video is a hit. Within twenty-four hours, it has a million views on YouTube and a hundred thousand likes on Instagram. Celebrities are sharing it on Twitter with comments like “OMG” and “So funny!” The local news stations are interviewing me outside my dorm room while my classmates watch from their beds.
“You’re really not embarrassed?” one of them asks once the camera is off.
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“Why would I be?” I ask. I grin at the girl. She’s a pretty blonde with a big smile and bright blue eyes. “I’m famous!”
I don’t let the reporter know that I’m only half kidding. The truth is, I’m a little bit of a fame whore. I love the attention. I love the way people look at me, ask me questions, want to be close to me. It’s intoxicating.
I’m not a supermodel or anything, but I’ve always been pretty. My dad used to tell me I was beautiful all the time when I was a little girl, and I guess I never felt any differently as I got older. I have flawless skin, big brown eyes and long thick hair. I’m skinny and tall, and my legs go on forever. Guys are always checking me out when they think I’m not looking, and I pretend not to notice even when I like it.
The reason I’m not more of a fame whore is because up until now, there wasn’t much for me to be famous for. My parents are strict and old-fashioned, and they never wanted me to do any acting or modeling when I was growing up. They were afraid it would distract me from my schoolwork, and they were worried that the attention would go to my head. So instead of being on TV or in movies like some of my friends, I became a straight-A student with perfect SAT scores.
My parents were so proud.
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But it wasn’t enough for me.
They told me that if I worked really hard, maybe someday I could get into Harvard or Stanford. But what I really wanted was to be famous. Like Justin Bieber famous.
So here I am, a college freshman with no acting experience and no modeling portfolio.
The local news has just told my story, and now it’s being picked up by other news stations around the country.
It’s only a matter of time before this goes international.
I wait for an email from Justin’s management team, but it never comes.
I check my phone every hour for a week, but nothing happens.
Finally, I wake up one morning to find that TMZ has declared me “the newest Justin Bieber super-fan.”
“Is it true?”
my roommate asks as she scrolls through her phone.
I try to sound casual.
“Is what true?”
“That you’re the newest Justin Bieber super-fan?”
“It’s on TMZ,” she says.
“They must have found out that you made that video just to get his attention.
His management team is probably getting thousands of emails a day from girls who want to date him.
Why would they respond to yours?
Why would he respond to yours?
You know what his type is.
She’s gotta be blonde and famous and flawless.
You’re none of those things.”
I can tell that she’s trying to hurt me, but she fails.
I’m not offended that she thinks Justin wouldn’t be into me.
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