busted

whelp, my mother found this blog due to a careless mistake on my part, and is requiring that I take down all of the posts with sexual content. she took it surprisingly well, I think. not a big deal. the blogging won’t stop, just won’t include mention of my nonexistent sex life anymore.

I think that’s alright.

on a better note, tea is a really nice thing. ♥

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this ought to be “boyfriends, breakups, and bitches: part the last” but with way more details than you ever needed

these last two weeks have been quite possibly the most complicated weeks of my entire life, and here’s why.

it all started when I invited this guy, I’ll call him LD, over to my house last Wednesday. now look, I knew what I was getting into when I asked him over. I expected us to make out, touch a bit, whatever. it seemed exciting. I’ve been thinking lately that I want to try some physical interaction with someone because it’s something I’ve never had but something that seems really great in theory.

so I invited LD over. he didn’t even do anything wrong. we were watching this really bad movie, called Aaah! Zombies!!, when he turned to me and asked if he could kiss me. of course I said yes, this was what I expected. so we kissed a bit, and then he took it just slightly further.

now, I’ll say that nothing happened underneath my clothes really, nothing came off and his hand got under my shirt but not under my bra. but he started rubbing you-know-where (sorry, it’s my obligation as a virgin to be a little modest about all this at the very least) and I started to internally freak out. I didn’t even know what to do. during the tiny breaks we took between kissing and such, he told me that I was actually shaking. I didn’t even notice, but I was visibly shaking. it scared the shit out of me.

when he asked me why I seemed hesitant I told him that, look, I’ve never done anything like this with anyone. he seemed genuinely shocked that “a pretty girl like you hasn’t done all this stuff.” and I think he honestly did not understand why I acted the way I did. luckily, for my own sake anyways, I was able to tell him to stop every time his hand tried to end up in my pants. but I wasn’t really able to tell him to slow down or anything. he pushed things way faster than I was prepared for, and was much rougher than I wanted. I froze up, bad. when he left I felt… soiled.

all LD wants is to be friends with benefits, not in a relationship. I guess that’s what he thought I wanted too when I told him I didn’t want to be in a relationship, but that’s not what I meant at all.

see, I want my first sexual interactions to be with someone who I’m with, in a committed relationship. someone I trust. someone who respects me, who respects my boundaries, who cares about me, and who doesn’t intend to use me. I’ve never had a relationship like this that went anywhere physically; the only one I really would have been comfortable with was A, who lives literally 1000 miles away. so I want my first times to be with someone I trust and care about. aka not LD or anyone like him. I don’t think he honestly gives a shit about me.

so that was the first occurrence of me freezing up. the idea excites me, but the actuality terrifies me. I didn’t think I’d find the right guy anytime soon.

well, things turned around sooner than I thought, but they really only served to make things much more complicated in the end.

a guy I know, we’ll call him K, is dating this horrible awful girl. she’s semi-abusive, expects K to treat her like a princess, uses him for his money, and generally doesn’t give two shits about him other than being able to have regular sex with him. (granted, this is all my interpretation so take it with a grain of salt–I’m an admitted liar.) but what I’m saying is it’s bad, and he really ought to break up with her.

this is even more poignant now. they’re both going off to college when the semester starts, him to community college, her to a nicer college about 40 minutes away. she wants to “take a break” once they start college, or, as my literal translation goes, she wants to “go to college and fuck other people but be able to come back to him and have everything be okay.” that would be fine, great in fact, but K does not want this. he is totally, 100% against this idea. she doesn’t care. she won’t lie to him and tell him she won’t do it, she’ll just do it anyways whether he agrees or not. why can she get away with this? because he’s proven on multiple occasions that he’s too spineless when it comes to her and will let her get away with anything, ultimately. so she thinks it’ll be fine and she can do it even though he doesn’t want he to.

problem is, she may be right. he doesn’t want to break up with her because she’s the only girl he’s really been with and they’ve been together so long that I think he’s so afraid to be alone afterwards that he isn’t willing to do anything to end it.

here’s where I come in.

he told me about all this the other day, and so I invited him over to my house just yesterday to be some moral support for him. I was and am prepared to be what he needs me to be to get through this, be that friend or something more. and you know, at first it was really innocent. he came over, we watched Cabin in the Woods and then The Avengers and then we just kind of goofed around on my computer… at some point, and I’m not sure how, he ended up with his head on my lap so I started playing with his hair. he kept looking up at me with this odd look in his eyes… and sometime later he ended up with his arms around me. he said “I probably shouldn’t be holding you like this,” but he didn’t let go.

and then he said, “and I probably shouldn’t do a lot of the things I wish I could do, either.” he told me he hoped I didn’t think he was using me, to take out some of his frustration with his girlfriend. I told him it didn’t matter… but I told him I didn’t want to make things worse or more complicated for him. I told him I don’t want to encourage him cheating on her, as much as I don’t like her.

and when it was time for him to go home, he asked if he could kiss me just once.

now here’s why this is all so damned complicated for everyone involved:

I think K could really be the guy that I’m looking for. I know he respects me, and he’s also very very attracted to me. I’ve known him for a while… and I really do trust him. I think he might be the right guy for me right now, BUT: it all depends on a very long and very improbably series of what ifs.

IF K breaks up with his girlfriend or she breaks up with him

IF K wants to be with me afterwards

IF K can understand that in a year I’m leaving the state to go to college and refuse to be in another long-distance relationship so we won’t last any longer than a year and he’s okay with that.

I don’t want to hurt him if he doesn’t actually accept that, and I have to leave anyways, but if I warn him and he wants to go through with it then I’ve done everything I can do.

but again, this is all if.

I’m hoping he’ll end things with her. I’m hoping he’ll want me, or at least need the emotional support and accept it from me. I’m hoping he’ll understand that I will have to leave, and that he’ll be okay with that, and that I won’t hurt him when I leave.

I’m hoping he understands that he won’t be alone if he leaves her. that I’ll be here for him. he told me he feels safe, and happy, when he’s around me. I hope he remembers that feeling. I hope it gives him the strength to leave her. I hope…

so that’s the situation. currently, stupid, messy, complicated situation. I’ve probably bored all my readers with this, this long ass post and this ranting about my personal life, but that’s what this blog is for after all.

so goodnight again, dear bored readers. I appreciate each and every one of you. ♥

every single time

so somebody said the phrase “all good things must come to an end”

and apparently it was this guy named Geoffrey Chaucer a long long long time ago

well fuck that guy.

seriously. restaurants, relationships, brands, foods… always. as soon as I get hooked on something, it’s gone. the Macaroni Grill near my house went out of business. the Fuddruckers is gone. the On The Border is gone.

but this time it was my favorite soda in the freaking universe. Big K vanilla cream soda. it tastes like heaven. if heaven has a taste. if heaven exists. not the point. best fucking soda ever. the THIRD TIME I go to buy a box of it–gone. just, poof, vanished. we drove all the way to the smelly Kroger just to buy the last four boxes they had in the store.

fuck you, Geoffrey Chaucer. fuck you. ♥

disturbed in more ways than one

so I was going through my room at my dad’s place last weekend since he was moving and I had to pack everything into boxes, and I happened across some very interesting what I like to call artifacts from the strange age. basically all these weird ass drawings and shit that are from when I was like eight turned up, and I am actually slightly disturbed by some of them. in short I was a really weird and possibly slightly disturbed kid and I had the freakiest imagination out there.

that reminds me of the ghost that haunted me when I was in preschool actually. I drew him a couple of times and his name was Jack. most of the time he looked normal (and yes folks, I actually remember Jack, this isn’t just what I’ve heard from my parents) but then sometimes he was all covered in scratches and blood and had broken bones. I don’t remember talking much about him but my mom says that when she asked about Jack and why he was all covered in blood (my preschool teacher was very concerned when I drew him and decided to ask my mother about it) I told her that Jack was a mountain climber and that he fell down the mountain, so he had to go to the hospital. but when he came back from the hospital, he was all better.

but here’s the fucking creepy part where it could have been like a legit ghost:

when I was in preschool, I was hospitalized for pneumonia. I was in the hospital for two weeks, and before that I never even mentioned Jack. after that was when my “imaginary friend” started showing up. I remember what he looked like very clearly, and whether that was the result of having a very descriptive mental image of him or that I actually did see him, I will never know.

so yeah. moral of the story is that I was a really really strange kid. ♥

boyfriends, breakups, and bitches: part the second

my life history in relationships, continued

I promised that this story wouldn’t stay depressing so I guess I ought to just go on and tell you about the several relationships I had during the time that I humorously like to call “the great in-between.” not really, I just made that up.

the first person I dated after A left me was… okay, I’m having a little trouble on what to call this one. I don’t want to go with just D for probably obvious reasons, but at the same time I don’t want the lovely people that read this blog to miss out on the ongoing joke that is my apparent problem with cities in Texas. A’s full first name is a city in texas, and so is this guy’s… so I’ll just go with calling him Fort Worth. he’ll probably chuckle when he reads this. but yeah, that’s the joke, that if I meet a guy whose name is a city in Texas, I’ll inevitably end up dating him. my computer’s name is Houston.

in any case, Fort Worth and I didn’t ever really officially date. he claimed to be “courting” me, though really that’s only because I told him I didn’t want to be in a relationship and when you say “dating” people assume you’re in a relationship.

(funny story–Fort Worth and I were hanging out with a bunch of friends at the mall this one time, and being the idiots that we are we decided it was a great idea to go chill on the couches in Crate & Barrel. being that that store is a pretty upscale furniture store and they really didn’t want a bunch of do-nothing rowdy kids crowding up their store, one of the saleswomen there really wanted to kick us out. apparently I looked like the most reasonable one of the bunch, because she came up to me and asked if we were planning on making any purchases. I smiled embarrassedly at her and shook my head, then said “we should probably leave, shouldn’t we” and she said in one of those crazy super sweet but clearly pissed off voices “yes, I think you should.” so I had to be the one who rounded up the rest of us and left. seriously, don’t get yourself kicked out of Crate & Barrel.)

anyways, that went on for a little while, but all of my parents basically hated the guy and frankly I wasn’t too interested either. so that didn’t last. but of course Fort Worth insisted he was in love with me and I basically told him that he needed to stop defining himself by the person he was dating instead of being his own person. he basically got really pissed at me, and I kind of just told him “well good luck then” and left him alone.

of course, since no one ever follows my advice until they’ve up and gotten themselves into a terrible situation and finally realize how right I was (wow just read over that–it sounded super egotistical but OH WELL), he came back to me several months later after being in a stupid relationship with the school slut. he told me I was right and that he had been doing exactly what I’d said, and told me that he was going to try and straighten things out and figure out who he really was.

so that ended on a relatively good note, at least.

after that, I found myself accidentally agreeing to being in a relationship with a gay guy that only lasted for the weekend.

you might ask how you accidentally end up in a relationship, but really it was easier than it sounds. so this guy (who is very flamboyantly gay) walks up to me in the hall and states simply “hey, we should go out.” now, this isn’t exactly unusual behavior for him, he says silly things and jokes around all the time. so I, assuming he was just joking as usual, laugh and say “sure, let’s go out,” to which he asks me if I’m serious.

I turned to him and said, “wait. dude, you’re gay.”

to which he cheerily replied, “I know” and continued to tell me about how he was in his “bi week” and how he wanted to try dating a girl to see if he was bi. after all, you never know until you try.

I won’t fail to mention that this was on Friday. it took him the entire week to work up the courage to ask me out, and it meant that there were only three days left of his bi week for us to go out during. and it was fun, and funny. so he toted me around for that Friday and made a big show of kissing me and all that just to prove to all the haters that he was trying it. but in the end, on Monday morning, we sort of walked up to each other, and agreed that his trial run should be over because, well, he is definitely gay.

so that was the second relationship, if you can really call either of them relationships, that I had after A broke up with me. but this post is getting long again, so I’ll cut it off here–with the promise that there are two more relationships between the next events regarding A, and after that a relatively nice ending at my current state of being.

so goodnight, dear readers, however numerous you are, and I hope you enjoyed the second installation of boyfriends, breakups, and bitches. ♥

confession #2

let’s be brutally honest here: I have about as much grace as a drugged elephant.

this is why I could never be a dancer. this is why no one should ever ask me to dance without being fully prepared to have their feet stepped all over.

so I go to this steampunk bar sometimes, and I used to make jewelry that sold in the gallery there. this guy bought a piece of mine once, and then he wanted to get to know me. one night he asked me to waltz with him and I didn’t know what I was getting into–it was kind of a spontaneous thing–and let’s just say ever since then I avoid him like the horrible zombie plague every time I see him out of pure and utter embarrassment. ♥

boyfriends, breakups, and bitches: part the first

my life history in relationships

to start off, I was a ham as a kid. a HUGE ham. everyone loved me. and I’m not just talkin’ when I was too little to remember, either. I’m talkin’ from about the age of three to about the age of seven. and men, especially, thought I was the cutest thing ever.

I’m not even kidding. we literally have photos of my six-year-old self draped, in all seriousness DRAPED over the laps of cute men. I always had a man. in daycare, in preschool, in any place that I went to the men loved me for some unfathomable reason–and I loved it. all the male waiters at the restaurants near our apartment knew me and I talked to them and they slathered me with affection and basically whatever I asked for.

my first “boyfriend” was probably someone I don’t remember, but the first one I do remember was Foster. we were in two different classes in preschool; he was in the neighboring classroom to my own. reportedly I had another boyfriend simultaneously, who was in the classroom on the other side, and my five-year-old logic rationalized this to my mother as “they’re on different sides, so they don’t see each other, so it’s okay.” I do remember Foster. I remember coyly inching across the room during movie time whenever the teachers seated us separate, and inevitably ending up with my head on his shoulder or in his lap.

apparently I had other boyfriends between Foster and my strange stretch of boyfriendlessness from 4th to 8th grade, but I wouldn’t really know to tell about them.

the next boyfriend I remember–and believe me, I know this is quite a jump–was in the 8th grade. this one was recent enough that I shouldn’t refer to him by name, so I will simply call him “A.”

for a little background which I will explain in further depth at a later date, my parents are divorced and have been for quite some time. my mother has remarried to my current stepfather and they’ve been married for eight years or so now. my father on the other hand remarried to a woman that I abhorred  but then later divorced her, too. I live with my mother, so when she remarried, me, my mom, and my stepdad moved away from my old “hometown” (I will explain why that’s in quotes at a later date as well). after we moved I started going back to my father’s place during summer and winter breaks, and because he worked a regular job I had to attend summer camp.

at summer camp, I met a lovely (if not a little short and a little thickset) boy, and that was A. at this time I was in… what, fifth grade? sixth? something like that, and being the silly middle school children that everyone is at that age, we decided to “date.” in fact, we were encouraged to do so by our mutual friends Jared and Rachel (sorry Rachel if you ever read this, however unlikely that may be) who were also “dating” at the time. So we were two pairs, me and A, Jared and Rachel.

A and I went on one date and one date only during our period of “dating” and all we did was go and watch a movie. the movie was The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor, which is a terrible horrible movie that I wouldn’t recommend to anyone and about which I still feel a little stupid and guilty for it tarnishing my datemovie watch list. anyways, the “relationship” didn’t go anywhere.

it wasn’t until 8th grade that we even started talking again, and beyond that had any semblance of a real relationship. it might seem silly, but both of us went through a lot in the three years between–you know how middle school is. he had been through considerably more than I, however, including being hospitalized for several weeks, which I don’t care to elaborate on.

and so we started talking again, and apparently talking to me gave him a lot of comfort during rough times. eventually we started dating, confessing our feelings for each other entirely on whim and accident, and we were a couple. this continued for one year, long distance, with absolutely no face-to-face contact during that time. he was my first real boyfriend, though some wouldn’t consider him even that due to the lack of contact. but the feeling was there.

but our year ran out, and he ended things. he told me he was afraid of cheating on me, afraid of looking at other girls, and he told me that I deserved someone who would never even consider looking at someone other than me. he told me the distance was hard on him. and so he dumped me, though he would never call it that.

the year or so that transpired after that–I guess it was my sophomore year by then?–was rough. I was lost, basically. now that I look back it seems stupid, but all I know is that those emotions affected me strongly then and I still remember the psychological marks they left. I probably would have resorted to something like cutting, but I have always been too chickenshit to take a blade to my own skin. I did seriously contemplate suicide once, and less seriously plenty of other times. poetry was my outlet, and the night I nearly did it I sat down and wrote a poem instead. I will, of course, speak more to the saving grace that is poetry some other time.

as much as I hate to end this on a depressing note, this post is getting quite long and I should probably save more of this story for the second part. not that anyone reads this, but for anyone who does: I promise that this is about where the depressing part of this tale ends, and from here on out it only gets better. ♥