There is a secret folder on my computer.
I created it a few years ago, when I realised my embarrassing secret needed to be contained, and contained quietly. Nobody knows about this folder. It just sits there, patiently, inconspicuously, waiting to be filled with fresh material.
The folder is labelled “Rosie’s Tax Invoices”. But it’s not filled with ‘Rosie’s tax invoices’ (I’m 28 and I still have a Pez Dispenser collection – I’m not even close to being that organised).
No – the “tax” label is a genius and complex ruse, designed to keep prying eyes from snooping at my secret shame. You know how people panic about their internet history getting into the wrong hands? That’s how I feel about this folder. So, should my future husband John Oliver ever happen to find my computer after I leave it on the bus (or, more realistically, should my little sister ever borrow my computer without asking), my flawless tax label plan means they’ll never find out my humiliating secret.
Because the fact is, the folder on my computer labelled Rosie’s Tax Invoices is actually filled with… Oh god… I can’t even say it…
The folder on my computer labelled Rosie’s Tax Invoices is actually filled with wedding stuff.
So. Much. Wedding. Stuff.
And I don’t even have a boyfriend. Oh god this is humiliating.
I honestly don’t know how it started. I just found a picture of a ring I liked one day, and before I knew it, I was making fake folders and disguising jpegs and signing up to the Vera Wang website. There have even been times I’ve turned down social invitations because I was so far down a Pinterest ‘funky table setting’ rabbit hole, it just didn’t feel worth it to leave the house.