‘Do you know how many men called Will or William Thomson there are on Facebook?’ I yell at my phone. ‘Thirty billion.’
‘I’m fairly certain there’s only seven billion people in the world,’ Victoria replies on speaker. ‘But OK. Have you tried narrowing it down by location? Where does he live?’
‘Brighton,’ I reply. ‘I think. Oh God, maybe it was Birmingham… or Bristol? Definitely a B word.’
I hear Vic tapping on her keyboard. I have already been skimming through Facebook profiles for thirty minutes, a sea of Will Thomsons all blissfully unaware that I’ve been deep-diving their information. She sighs. ‘Nah, nothing in Brighton, though a lot of people hide their location or use variations on their name. I do.’
‘Why? In case someone falls in love with you after a week and stalks you?’
I hear her chuckle. ‘Pretty much. I’ll try Birmingham next. You go through the rest of the Bs.’
An hour later, we still haven’t found my Will Thomson, but I did find a different Will Thomson who owns a sausage dog called Thor and sells a suspicious amount of used car parts from his home in Newport Beach.
‘This is useless,’ I grumble, squinting at a fuzzy picture of Thor. ‘He might not even be on here. I think this dog might have his own bedroom—’
‘Oh, wait, didn’t you say he was writing an article for some magazine?’ Victoria asks.
‘Yes,’ I reply, ‘FMQ. But he said it would be under ‘staff writer’ or something, It’s probably not even out yet.’
‘But maybe he’s written for them before? Sometimes journalists add their Twitter handle to their bio on publication sites.’
‘I tried Twitter,’ I inform her. ‘Again, lots of Will Thomsons but none of them are him… it might be worth a shot though, I’m willing to try anything.’
We both googleFMQand start trawling through the articles. Apparently, sherry, Bitcoin and resistance training are very important to the menfolk of the UK. I click on the culture section and freeze at the first article.
Bootcamp for Broken Hearts
‘Oh shit. I’ve found him. I’ve found the bootcamp article.’
‘Where?’ Vic squeals. ‘What section? Does it have a byline photo? I really want to see this guy.’
‘Culture section. It just says staff writer – no photo,’ I reply, my eyes scanning the page as I begin to read aloud.
‘Bootcamp was an eye-opening look at how the ‘new thought’ movement sees the world and ultimately how we see ourselves. I saw myself leaving as soon as possible.’
‘Oh God, I can’t keep reading. You do it.’
‘You’re such a pussy,’ Vic responds. ‘OK, I’ve found it.’
‘Ever wondered why you’re still single? Well, wonder no more, my romantically challenged friends, Holistically Yours claims to have the answer. For the not-so-insignificant sum of five thousand pounds, this elite retreat will encourage you to challenge your existing beliefs, promote self-love, and help you manifest the person of your dreams into reality with a little assistance from the universe.
‘In the interest of full disclosure, during my stay I was an unhappily separated-but-married man and therefore not their target audience. I was not looking to attract someone new, nor figure out why I was currently single. To be clear, I did not approach any of this with the intention of becoming a better man; I am not sure that’s possible, even with the universe on side. I approached this purely as an undercover feature writer, assigned to give an honest account of what it’s like to attend the exclusive romance bootcamps which have taken America by storm. Nothing more, nothing less.’
‘He’s funny,’ Vic compliments. ‘And at least he’s honest.’
‘I guess. Keep going.’
‘The ideas presented are relatively simple (once you suspend all critical thinking and common sense) – what you think about, you attract, both positive and negative. Feeling is the key here – if you feel like you already have it, the universe has no choice but to deliver it to you. If you simply feel like you are dating the greatest woman alive, the universe will provide. Likewise, if you feel like a worthless turd, the universe will provide you with everything a worthless turd could want.’
I can picture Will’s face as he recounts his time there and I’m literally holding my breath as Victoria reads on.
‘It attracted a surprisingly diverse group of people, from young, wealthy millennials, to the more desperate, middle-aged last-chance salooners who, quite honestly, should have enough life experience to know better. All very nice people but the only common denominator among the group was loneliness. I have never seen so many lonely people in one room, and I’ve been to a Radiohead concert.’
I smile to myself as she continues reading about the tasks, the activities, facilities, and the workshops, but then she suddenly stops.
‘Oh. Erm…’
‘What?’
