Olivia: Alright Jackson, you've read the book. Give me your five-word review of Everything I Know About Love. Jackson: "Hilarious, messy, drunk, heartbreaking, friendship." How's that? Olivia: Perfect. Mine is: "Female friendship is the protagonist." That's really the heart of it, isn't it? Jackson: Absolutely. It’s the thread that ties all the chaos together. Olivia: And we're diving deep into Dolly Alderton's memoir, Everything I Know About Love. What's so interesting is that Alderton was already a successful journalist and columnist when she wrote this, and it just exploded. It won the National Book Award for Autobiography and was adapted into a TV series, which is huge for a memoir about being a messy twenty-something. Jackson: Right, it's not just a diary. It struck a massive cultural nerve, especially with millennial women. It’s been called a "manual for their twenties," which is both high praise and a lot of pressure. Olivia: It is. And I think that nerve it struck is this profound gap between the lives we think we're supposed to be living in our twenties, and the lives we actually are.

Jackson: Speaking of messy, let's start there. The book is filled with these "Bad Date Diaries" and "Bad Party Chronicles." They're hilarious but also… painfully real. Olivia: Painfully. She has this incredible talent for capturing the exquisite cringe of a date gone wrong. My favorite has to be the story of the £300 restaurant bill. Jackson: Oh, I was reading that through my fingers. Set the scene for us. Olivia: Okay, so Dolly is on her third date with this wealthy entrepreneur she met on Tinder. He's taking her to a fancy restaurant in Mayfair, London. And she's wrestling with this internal conflict: on one hand, she's flattered by his generosity, but on the other, she feels this rising resentment, this fear of being a "kept woman." Jackson: A very modern anxiety. The desire for romance clashing with the need for independence. Olivia: Exactly. And after three bottles of wine, this internal conflict becomes very, very external. She just erupts at him in the middle of this posh restaurant, shouting, "You can’t own me! I’m not a possession for you to own! I can buy my own lobster!" Jackson: Wow. And what does he do? Olivia: He just slurs back, "Fine, darling, buy it yourself." So she does. She grabs the bill—all £300 of it—and insists on paying the whole thing. Jackson: But she can't afford it, right? Olivia: Not even close. The story ends with her in the bathroom, secretly texting her flatmate, AJ, begging for an emergency bank transfer to cover it. It’s this perfect, tragicomic performance of independence that is completely hollow. Jackson: Oh no, the secret text for a bailout! We've all been close to that. What is it about that dynamic? Why did she feel the need to perform that act of financial defiance, even when she couldn't back it up? Olivia: I think it’s about control. In that moment, the only power she felt she had was to reject his financial power. It’s irrational, but it’s deeply human. It’s the same energy she brings to the date that lasts only twelve minutes, where she’s so disappointed by the reality of the guy versus his online persona that she just… leaves. Jackson: It’s this constant theme of the fantasy crashing into reality. The dream of the sophisticated, romantic dinner ends with a panicked text from a bathroom stall. The dream of the charming online suitor ends after twelve minutes of awkward silence. Olivia: Precisely. She’s chasing a movie script, but life keeps handing her a very different, and much funnier, kind of story. And the person she turns to in that moment of crisis is key.

Olivia: And who does she text for that bailout? Not another guy, but her flatmate. And that's the perfect bridge to what many people, myself included, think is the real thesis of this book. Jackson: The friendships. Specifically, her relationship with her best friend, Farly. It’s the central love story. The book’s reception really reflects that; it’s celebrated for placing this deep, platonic partnership at the center of emotional life, which is still surprisingly rare. Olivia: It is. Alderton argues that we have a rich vocabulary for romantic love, but we lack the language to describe the depth and importance of our friendships. And she shows it, she doesn't just tell it. Their bond is tested, especially when Farly gets a serious boyfriend, Scott. Jackson: Right, and this leads to one of the most memorable and, frankly, gut-wrenching scenes in the book: the "Björn Again" argument. Olivia: It’s so brilliant. They’re at a Christmas party, and Dolly has been feeling abandoned by Farly for a year. The resentment boils over, and they have this huge fight. Dolly tries to explain how she feels, and she uses this incredible metaphor. She says, "I feel like I’ve just been your warm-up act for eleven years until your headliner came along. You’ve ALWAYS been my Spice Girls, and I wish I’d known sooner so I could have put you down the bill and MADE YOU BJÖRN AGAIN." Jackson: That is such a specific and perfect metaphor for that feeling. You're not the main event anymore, you're the tribute band. It’s devastating. I think anyone who has felt a best friend pull away for a relationship felt that in their bones. Olivia: Absolutely. And it’s where the book has faced some criticism. Some readers found Dolly's attitude possessive or immature, as if she couldn't handle her friend growing up and moving on. Jackson: I can see that. Is it a celebration of friendship, or is it a sign of being stuck, of not wanting things to change? Olivia: I think it’s a portrait of the painful transition. It’s not that she doesn't want Farly to be happy. It’s the grief for the end of an era, for the loss of a particular kind of intimacy that was just theirs. The story doesn't end with them drifting apart, though. It evolves. Jackson: How so? Olivia: A real-life tragedy strikes—Farly's sister gets sick—and in that crucible, the friendship is reforged. Dolly steps up, Scott steps up, and they become this new kind of unit. She describes becoming the "Official Third Wheel," but in a loving way. They become a new kind of family. Jackson: So the friendship doesn't break, it just expands to make room. It has to. Olivia: It has to. And that evolution, that messy, painful, and ultimately beautiful process, is a far more realistic depiction of long-term love than any of the "Bad Date Diaries."

Jackson: This journey of redefining love seems to run parallel to her own personal journey of, well, just figuring out who she is. And it gets pretty dark at times. Olivia: It really does. She talks about hitting 25 and having this profound existential crisis. She recalls a friend having a meltdown and wailing, "Is this really all life is? Fucking… Tottenham Court Road and ordering shit off Amazon." Jackson: That line is an all-timer. It’s that moment you realize adulthood isn't a destination you arrive at, it's just… more Tuesdays, more online shopping, more routine. The crushing mundanity of it all. Olivia: And that feeling of pointlessness drives her to run away. She books a trip to New York, thinking a change of scenery will fix her. She imagines this grand, Sex and the City-style adventure. Jackson: And I'm guessing it wasn't. Olivia: It was a disaster. She runs out of money, has a terrible Tinder date, and ends up having a panic attack, feeling more alone than ever. And in that moment of despair, she has this epiphany. She realizes, "I’m the problem. Not the city. Not any of the circumstances are the problem. I’m the thing that needs changing." Jackson: That’s a tough realization. The geographical cure doesn't work. You can't outrun yourself. Olivia: You can't. And that’s what finally leads her to therapy. She walks into her first session and just unloads all her anxieties—her fear of death, her relationship with alcohol, her people-pleasing. And her therapist gives her this incredible diagnosis. She says, "You feel like you’re going to fall because you’re broken into a hundred different floating pieces. You’ve got no rooting." Jackson: Wow. That’s a powerful image. Olivia: It is. And the therapy becomes this slow, painful process of gathering those pieces. She learns that her need for external validation, her constant performance, is a way of avoiding the fact that she doesn't really know how to just be with herself. Jackson: So the journey isn't about finding the right man or the perfect life. It's about finding a way to be whole on her own. Olivia: Exactly. It's about learning to be her own anchor. The therapy isn't about blaming her parents or her ex-boyfriends. It’s about taking accountability and, piece by piece, building a sense of self.

Jackson: So when you put it all together—the bad dates, the friendship epiphanies, the therapy—what's the one big thing Alderton really knows about love? Olivia: I think it's that love isn't a prize you win at the end of the story. It's the messy, everyday, ongoing practice of showing up. It’s showing up for your friends when their wedding gets called off, and it's showing up for yourself when you feel broken into a hundred pieces. The book isn't a guide to finding love; it’s a testament to surviving it and discovering it in the places you weren't told to look. Jackson: It’s in the panicked text to a flatmate, the argument with a best friend, the quiet moments of just being. It’s not the grand romantic gesture. Olivia: It's the love that remains after the fantasy has burned away. And that’s a much more durable, and ultimately more meaningful, kind of love. Jackson: It makes you wonder, what's the most important love story in your own life? It might not be the one you think. Olivia: A perfect question to end on. We'd love to hear your take. What did you learn about love in your twenties? Find us on our socials and let us know. Jackson: We're always curious to hear your stories. Olivia: This is Aibrary, signing off.