A Quick Update …

Life has been quiet recently.

I haven’t talked to BlackLace since that night, and I couldn’t care less. Honestly now, I’m over it. He was overwhelmingly sexual; it’s a cuddle and a chat that I want in a relationship at the moment, and we never had that. It’s funny that when I was sort of ‘seeing’ him I completely overlooked aspects of his personality, that, upon reflection, are not at all to my liking. Examples of this include his lack of respect for anyone but himself, his inability to have a normal conversation and his general dick-ish behaviour. Haha, fuck him.

I’ve been elated ever since 3 o’clock the morning when I arrived in my bed after that epic night. I feel like nothing can hit me; I’m invincible. Cheesy, I know, but it’s fucking awesome to feel like this. If I could have actually walked on sunshine for the week following that night, I would have.

Party time’s now over: exams are coming up, and my head is going down. I have a French oral exam this coming Thursday with another three exams in mid May. Not too bad, but I’m currently lacking in confidence. It’s not that I’m not studying, it’s just that coursework has been heavy; my English has only been submitted this week and my Textiles isn’t even in until after Easter. Gaaargh.

Looking on the bright side, Summer’s going to be amazing! I’m crossing over to your land, Americans, to the city that never sleeps and its surroundings. I am absolutely BUZZING! I’m trying to sway my mum towards going to Atlantic City during the ten days we’re on the road (we’d have spent 5 nights in NY) just so that I can stand by the sign and sing Bruce. Asbury Park would be the dream, but it’s been shot down to infinity already…

There you go, an update on my rather boring current existence.

You can now go back to your own mundane existences, peeps.

Enjoy.

Oh, and don’t forget to put your make-up on and your hair up pretty, and meet me tonight in Atlantic City.

(that is, towards the end of July)

Three’s a Crowd

Am I a b**ch?

Last night was the best night of my short life. CurlyGirl and I, along with an ever-becoming-closer friend of ours (who needs a name – Runner.) went to a ska and reggae night in town, mainly to see friends of the other two’s. The thing is, once I was released into the jungle of hippies, crazy dancers and funky music I was off. I wasn’t drunk or high (though by the end of the night, that could be argued…), it was just an amazing night with an amazing atmosphere and with amazing people; I actually fitted in, for once!

So why do I think that I’m a bitch? Well, just after arriving, I saw a friend of mine and started dancing next to him and he bought me a drink. Didn’t think much of it, I was just having fun.

Then I went outside for a breather with CurlyGirl and Runner. We bumped into a guy I snogged a few years back, whom I started chatting to, seeing as I hadn’t seen him for a while and I used to go to nearly all of his band’s gigs. Didn’t think much of it, I was just having fun. He asked me if I still smoked; I said yes, but not very often, and he offered me his cig and told me that he’d be going for a spliff later if I fancied joining him. Thanks, I said, come and get me when you do. I went back in to dance.

The friend of mine was still dancing so I joined him again. Didn’t think much of it, I was just having fun.

So, of course, this previously-snogged guy came in and started dancing by me, before asking if I wanted to go for the spliff. We went to the graveyard (I know…) and sat, listening to his band’s music on his phone and just catching up, really. It was nice. We shared a teeny spliff and then made our way back, about 3/4 of an hour later. Didn’t think much of it, I was just having fun.

We went back in, where I found my friend again, started dancing; previously-snogged guy then asked me for my hand. My answer, “No.” Shit. But then, I didn’t think much of it, I was just having fun.

My friend bought me another drink. We danced there for about half an hour. Then guess who started dancing around the decks?

BLACKLACE.

I knew I was dancing right in front of his eyes; both of us smiling wide, enjoying the night. He winked at me. I winked back. He started walking towards me, sweat dripping from his hair from his incessant stoned dancing. Can’t say I was in a much better state. He hugged me.

“I missed you” I said.

“I missed you too” he told me.

That’s when we started dancing. Both other guys each side, we danced, arms entangled with rather raunchy moves (dang.). He took me outside by my hand, where we sat down, hugged, chatted briefly then kissed. He started feeling me up, me the same. “Let’s go round the corner” he said. He was fucked. I wasn’t going to do that, not now. “No, you have to work for me” I said, before kissing him and going back in, alone. I didn’t see him again that night.

My friend was there, upset. He said it didn’t matter. I apologised to him. I knew what it was about.

I didn’t see the previously-snogged guy.

My friend stayed with me until the end of the night, 2.30 in the morning, and walked me to the taxi rank. I apologised to him and had a very nice conversation. “There are worse things to do than spend the night dancing with you.”

Why can’t I fall for these lovely guys?

I am such a bitch. They don’t deserve to be messed around like that.

I was just having fun.

I just can’t help it: I want BlackLace.

Damn it.

Guess what? The other girl is lovely. Damn it.

I went to Birdie’s party last night. Tried to get drunk, but failed after getting too tipsy too early and banned from the fridge, which meant that I was forced to sit down and face the music. Thing is, the music was closeted by both the other girl and myself.

We just didn’t go there. We were polite, laughed at each other’s jokes, chatted, but BlackLace and everything related to him was as if it never happened, in either case.

Was this for the best? I don’t know. Maybe bringing it up would have shattered the evening, and we would have felt so awkward in each other’s company that it would have been impossible to enjoy ourselves. OR, it could have lifted the awkward tension, the giant elephant in the room, and made us get along better without the politeness. I don’t know. What I do know is that she’s lovely, which annoys me.

If she was a great, big, massive bitch then I could rant about everything without a care in the world, and maybe partly blaming her for the end of the BlackLace saga. But I can’t, because she’s not. In result, I have to come to terms with the truth:

BlackLace used us both for his own enjoyment; neither of us deserved it.

Awkward encounter with other girl, check. Next job = get over him. How utterly joyful that will be.

At least I have Doctor Rockit’s Café de Flore as a soundtrack to it.

(Yes I did watch the film, and yes, I agree with you, it’s incredible.)

Forgiveness. Yes, that awful thing.

After snogging a random guy at a gig on Saturday, I thought I’d finally got rid of BlackLace from my mind (he’d invited then uninvited me to his party the day before, which sort of hurt!); okay, hardly rid, but at least I wasn’t completely involved with him. But oh no, he could not stop there. He had some more messing around to do.

“Hey :)”

“Hia. How was the party?”

Fuck him.

I have no idea what was on his mind, but it was like nothing had happened. It was like we time-travelled back to that Friday night at his, and just carried on the conversation. He was flirting. He was FLIRTING.

Actually he was doing more than flirting. It wasn’t extremely pleasurable as I was still angry at him for being a douche (ah, his first name), but I went with it. Built him up. Flirted. Reacted to him (not too much…) until I decided to make my move, after a rather disgusting message.

“I have no idea what game you’re playing… Shouldn’t you be saying all this to [other girl]? From what I gather, she’s had recent activity.”

(I’m too nice a person to scream “YOU’RE AN ARSEHOLE, YOU MOTHERFUCKING TWO-TIMING, REJECTING BITCH” like I wanted to do.) It was good enough.

I didn’t get a reply instantly; it was late on a school night so I wasn’t too bothered, and besides, it was out of my system. I carried on with my hectic life, talked to my friends about it, hugged a few people, blah blah. I started talking to Birdie, as I’ve started to refer to her (mine and the other girl’s mutual friend), about it and she started shouting and saying how dare he, blah blah.

Oh yeah, forgot to tell you, on the night of his party, he snogged the other girl.

I had a reply from him lunchtime that day. It actually surprised me. I’ll copy our conversation here.

BlackLace: “sorry if ive been a dick to you. i really dont have a game, i was just messing about” [sic]

Me: “Yeah you have been. To her too.”

BlackLace: “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to be, I just didn’t think I’m really sorry I never meant to make you feel bad, I think you’re a really nice person and I never meant to be a dick”

It was then I started melting. I couldn’t stay angry at him. I physically couldn’t. I can’t pretend that I don’t like him, don’t find him hilarious, don’t think he’s pretty sexy for a 17-year-old. I couldn’t and can’t. I have no idea what the hell he does to me, but I can’t help but stop caring and actually believe his words. I forgave him on the spot.

Me: “It’s ok hun, I’m sorry I snapped. It just hurt a bit to be messed around like that.”

BlackLace: “i can not say how sorry i am, i would never want to do anything to hurt you” [sic]

Me: “It’s fine, you’re lucky I’m a forgiving person… 🙂 thanks for apologising x”

I am such an idiot. What did I think would come from forgiving him? That he would leap into my arms and say how much he missed me, how he just wants me, how I’m everything he needs at the moment? That he meant everything he said to me? Of course he hasn’t replied! Of course he hasn’t! Why would he?

Writing this post has actually made me a bit teary. I can’t believe that I let him do this to me time after time. Why do I find him so irresistible?!

I deserve better.

I deserve better, right?

I Swear …

I knew it was too good to last.

Teenage love just isn’t in my destiny, is it?

He ignored me. He would perhaps give a reply to a text the next day, if I was lucky, and then wouldn’t talk to me until the day after that. It was so incredibly strange. It was like the last fortnight hadn’t happened; like we were back to where we were just before Christmas, but even more fragmented, if that makes sense.

Who am I kidding, it doesn’t make sense.

He fucked me over.

I guess I was right with my last post; I was just a casual liaison.

But, what the hell? Why invite me over if you didn’t want anything?

I asked him what was going on with us, and he replied,

“haha um don’t know really, I don’t want like a girlfriend or anything but um yeah just see what happens is what I usually do haha”.

Ugh.

Well, to be honest, I can’t be arsed with that. I’m not going to waste my fucking time.

No more BlackLace.

I have to admit, I’ll miss him. He was good fun.

But, in CurlyGirl’s words: Fuck boys and their dicks.

And you know what? True dat, girlfriend.

 

(I apologise for my crude language – I thought I’d keep it all in. You know, for effect.)

 

 

Lust-Sickness …

Is this what being love-sick feels like?

Concentration is impossible, Friday evening keeps cropping up everywhere I go, and I can’t stop thinking about him.

BlackLace.

I’m scared he doesn’t want me, I worry that he didn’t enjoy Friday evening as much as I did, I’m afraid that he doesn’t accept my warts and all. I mean, there are plenty of them to be accepted after all.

What did we do? I won’t go into too much detail, but we snuggled watching a film for a little while, before things started to escalate, and by the time he needed to get ready to go out with his family for dinner, we were lying face to face, semi-naked, with crap all over my front. Sounds gorgeous doesn’t it?

There was a lot of laughing, mocking each other, flirtation and nose-rubbing, which I found absolutely lovely, but I find myself wondering and worrying whether he felt the same way. I barred off my downstairs, and I’m glad I did (it was only our first ‘meeting’ after all) but I hope that he doesn’t think that I’m against sex, or ‘frigid’, which is a horrible word, but apt.

I haven’t talked in-depth about Friday evening to anyone yet, so it’s bubbling inside of me, with all these questions swimming to the surface.

• Does he find me, personality and looks combined, attractive?
• Am I just a casual liaison?
• Does he find the things I do sexy?
• Do I repulse him?
• Does he want what I want?
• Does he like me?
• Like, really like me?
• And, the stirring question: Where has the other girl gone?

Maybe it’s lust-sickness.

I’m confused, scared and worried, yet I’m happy.

I’m rather quite happy.

Huh.

Oh my God …

I know it’s unlike me to write twice in a month, never mind a week, but seeing as I don’t have a rooftop to shout from, I instantly thought, “BLOG IT!”

Douche (I think I need a new name for him…) just invited me round to his house tomorrow night to “watch a film”! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

I can’t believe it!

He wants to see me!

Oh my god.

No guy has ever asked me over to “see a film” before.

I am pretty fucking excited, if you couldn’t already tell.

I’ve been talking to him recently (again!) and having talked until midnight a few nights this week, he’s obviously decided that I’m worth talking to…

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

Oh my god.

How about Hilarity as a name?

No, no, BlackLace.

YES.

It’s an inside joke, you won’t get it. 😛

Oh my god.

BlackLace. I’ll have to add him to the ‘Who’s Who’ page…

Oh my god.

Fuck, now I’ll have to shave my legs…

Maybe it’s Crappy …

Happy New Year, guys

I couldn’t decide which punctuation mark to use at the end of that statement! It’s been nearly a month since I missed the New Year (drinking wine in pints is NOT a good idea) but nothing has really changed.

I’ve been to Birmingham with SongWriter and had a WHALE of a time, attended a pretty cool party at another friend’s a few weeks back and secured two days a week picking my lovely kids up from school (£120 a month! AWESOME.) but I’ve also been feeling pretty crappy.

I have NOTHING to feel crappy about, but I still feel crappy! It’s driving me insane! I cry constantly, I want to shut myself off from everyone constantly, I want to cuddle up with Orange is the New Black and pretend that I’m a convict. Constantly. (Well, until I finished the series in a week…) Then I get these days where I’m so happy I can’t contain myself, and start jumping about and laughing like a lunatic; usually these come with parties!

It’s funny: it’s when these great days end that the shitty ones start.

I had a fab day yesterday, until I had my audition for the Youth Theatre’s new production. It went crappy. And now I’m scared. I’m waiting for an e-mail that I’m afraid won’t come (if you’re not in the cast, sometimes you don’t get a confirmation) and it’s stressing me out on top of school work. I don’t mind if I don’t get in, as I was crappy and I’d get my Sundays and Easter Holiday back, but I just can’t stand waiting.

It makes sense that this makes me feel pretty shitty and distracted and irritated and everything else that’s crappy.

But it still annoys me that I’m feeling crappy. Constantly.

Do I have something wrong with me, or am I just a normal teenager?

I think this is what we should be learning in school.

How to understand yourself.

Now that would be a lesson I’d actually pay attention to.

Happy New Year, guys!

F**k You.

Merry Christmas from windy Wales! Hope you’ve had some festive fun (and continuing to do so) with some lovely presents thrown in. I certainly have! I have lovely jumpers now, thanks to my family! Oh, and a lamp shaped like a cage. Plus, my first designer handbag; a vintage Gucci. Très bon, merci!

Then why call your post, “F**k You” if you’ve had a nice Xmas? I have a valid reason: the crush (let’s name him Douche) turned out to be talking to me and this other girl, apparently in two minds which one he should go for. I found this out via birdies. Fine, I wasn’t expecting much anyway; we’d only been talking for about 3 weeks when I found this out. He was texting me normally for a while, until this week. He stopped abruptly, sending maybe one every two days, with these tiny ones unlike the usual conversations we’d been having; there was something missing in them.

All the while, I’d been chatting with the mutual friend this other girl and I share. She told me the back story of Douche and her friend’s relationship (apparently it went back to the Summer) and we were comparing Douche’s relationship with me with that… I was put out, but he hadn’t told me any of this, and at the time he was texting me every day, so I felt strong and perhaps fearless.

Yep, so then he stopped. I heard he and this girl got together in a party they went to over the weekend and asked her to go to his house and crap like that. This is when he stopped. No sorry, no apology for leading me on, no good-bye, no explanation, just a full stop.

It was then that my walls came down.

“Urm, what?”

It seems that 103 texts in a month deserves no acknowledgement at all.

It’s not the knowing that there won’t be a relationship between us (that’s fine), it’s the way he’s treated it that annoys me! There’s a person at the other end of the line, Douche, you can’t just leave like that. You can’t just ignore someone after constantly talking for weeks. One deserves some sort of explanation, for fuck sakes.

Even a “Merry Christmas” text would have been nice. Thanks.

You and your fucking kisses at the end of texts. Nice going, Douche. Thanks.

Fuck you, Douche.

Fuck you.

Who’s Human? I am!

Woop-dy doo, I am human.

What can I say but that my teensy crush on a certain someone (I shall keep him un-named for the moment) has proved that I am not void of feeling after all. Oh, how this pleases me; for one whole, incredibly long year, emotions were kept fiercely under lock and key, but HOOZA, a bobby pin has been found to start unpicking it. I am at this moment exchanging fragmented messages with him; it’s not much, but for me it’s a rarity that cannot go unnoticed. Woop-dy doo.

So, this last fortnight has been hectic to say the least. Tuesday was the only evening that I had dinner at a decent time this week, due to a fashion show I was co-planning and looking after the gorgeous three kids twice; last week, our play was on, and so I was in the theatre every night until 9.30. I’m not complaining: last week was such good fun!

We were doing an adaptation of Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream, set in the 1980s schooling system. As Titania, I was dressed in an all-denim number with badges, hoop earrings and incredibly bright lips. I can’t say I didn’t enjoy wearing that… Oberon (who was in a leather jacket) and I were the ‘cool’ secondary school sixth-formers, whilst the lovers were public school brats… Weird, but as expected of our director, pretty fabulous.

The fashion show was cool too, but a shed load of work. We had to book the hall, ask for clothes from local shops, arrange meetings with the shops, make posters, make cakes, email advertisements, recruit models, take the models to the shops, get the clothes from the shops and find a place to store them, buy bags to put over clothes, source music, test lights out, get the runway etc, etc. Everything was done by a team of about 10 people, and so I am overjoyed with how great everything turned out, and think we should all be incredibly proud of ourselves. We’re all now too tired to do anything, though, and so the runway’s still stacked against the walls of the hall and the boiler for the tea is where we left it. Oops.

So yes. Je suis toujours fatiguée à ce moment. At yoga tonight I was constantly yawning, with me and the guy beside me smiling when the time came to ‘meditate’, aka the lying down and snooze-y time. Our joint favourite part of the session, it seems! I also left school early today so that I could eat spaghetti hoops and watch Delicacy (I am fast becoming a walking discography of Audrey Tautou’s), which was highly educational.

I’m sorry for boring you with blabber of tiredom, but I’m a tad preoccupied with Mr New Crush. You’re the first person I’ve told (ok, second, but still) so yes, this is your proud moment. Your little Hapusrwydd is alive once more! Horaah!