It’s been a while since I blogged. Wil and I are going great, so I really hope I shouldn’t have to update you on anything. We did some experimenting but I don’t think we were ever in the right ‘mood’. I think we talk way too much when it comes to those things. *throws hands in the air* I don’t know, haha. ♥

Jeremy pisses me off so fucking much right now, I don’t even know where to begin. The other day I completely ignored him for all of two days. It’s unusual because we usually talk every day – being friends and all. But he fucking pissed me off.

Jeremy’s fat. Okay, I hate to say it, and I know it might insult large people – but I promise I do not mean it like that. I’m just being blunt. He’s fat. It shows on his face… yeah okay, that’s enough.

I told Lana about a certain incident: I watched him wolf down a large beef box with gulps of an entire bottle of Pepsi in between. Trust me, you do not want to see it. It was disgusting.

A while ago when we had a fight (yeah, we have them pretty often) I told him, honestly, the things about him that bothered me. I told him kindly that he did need to lose weight. It fucking impacts on me.

I have a high cholesterol but I’m stick-thin. I try to eat healthy all the time and here is this jerk who eats burgers and chips all the time. I find it a complete insult. I have a boyfriend who strictly watches what he eats, exercises every day, and encourages me to eat well. Bethany has PCOS (polycystic ovary syndrome) which restricts her to a diet that is low sugar, low fat, low salt and less than 2000 calories. Her father has a myriad of health problems. So does my father, with high cholesterol, high blood pressure and now anaemia. I have a mother who has troubles with her weight. I have a close friend Dan who I knew since high school, and since then I’ve seen him try so, so, so hard to lose weight.

But you know what? Jeremy told me he’d try. He doesn’t try. He just simply fucking does not. When he ate a snack at about 11pm, I scolded him – not rudely – and I told him it was not a good idea and not to do that. He got angry at me and told me, “Audrey, it’s just one sandwich and only for today -.-”. A day later he apologised, and I said it’s fine but I was simply – as a friend – concerned about him. To which he fucking repeated what he said and just pissed me off all over again.

If a friend shows concern, I accept it and I promise them I will try not to concern them. I don’t say “Don’t worry, I only did it once”.

When I used to harm myself, I did not say to my friends, “Ugh don’t worry about me okay? I only cut myself once.”
It’s bad enough. It’s still bad. I promised my friends I would try not to do it again. I don’t know how you could be so rude to a friend, goddamn fuck you.

I couldn’t take it so that’s why I ignored him. We are back on speaking terms now but I simply hate the fact that Jeremy thinks losing weight is so easy. It’s fucking not. And I do, honestly, find it insulting. I find it insulting to me, someone who tries to eat well, and surrounded by people who have health problems. My grandparents died from diabetes/high cholesterol. And he’s fucking eating himself into a stroke. And that’s the truth. He doesn’t eat any vegetables. I had to eat his fucking vegetables when we went out to eat because he left them all on his plate. He drinks tea and soft drink all the time, never any milk (thanks Lana for pointing this out).

And I’m sick of Jeremy not trying. Do you know how much I try in excelling in my studies? I study when I need to. I spend more time on my assignments and make sure I’m following my criteria. I try to hand in what is my best work.

When Jeremy hands something in, he says, “It’s not my best but I’m just going to hand it in”. Then he gets fucking angry and complains when his grade isn’t even good. You just brought it upon yourself, bitch. When I encourage him to ask the tutor to see where he went wrong, he just says, “I know it wasn’t my good work, that’s all I need to know.”

In short, goddamn fuck you.

PS Jackie, I’ll reply to your email soon! I started typing a reply and then never got around to finishing it…

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Looking back on the past, is, undeniably – a bitch. I hate doing it, but at the same time I have this creepy love for it. I love looking back on all the stuff that happened. When it comes to love, it’s no exception. I compare my current situation with situations in the past, look at how I fell in love with people. Why I fell in love. Why I never cherished being single and didn’t enjoy the time I had being single.

I actually regret it a little now. It’s almost like flirting was a sin.

LSS (Long Story Short): I kissed a guy called Mark. He followed me around, started following me partially the way home. I know that living near me was no excuse! He did not have to follow me around and try to talk to me and put his arm around me.

He was trying to console me about Cor. I dated Cor for about ten months on and off. Cor was younger but fairly mature – even though the more I got to find out about him, the more we fell apart and I realised he wasn’t willing to make sacrifices for me, and wasn’t willing to patch up differences or accept the fact that we had differences.

I was really upset about Cor so I guess I really appreciated Mark trying to make me feel better. Mark was a distant classmate of Cor’s – ergo, younger too.

After he followed me numerous times he tried to make me feel better when I was exceptionally upset. He held my hands and hugged me and then and there at the corner of my street he asked if I wanted to go out with him.

I was surprised.

My response was to kiss him.

I don’t know why I did it. But I thought, what the heck. Why not. Why not just jump in and make moves on guys and flirt with them… okay, those weren’t my exact thoughts. But running through my mind was the reality that Cor and I were over. I had to get over it. I felt like going out with Mark might be a good ol’ change.

Come on, I was fifteen. And the devil can stab me… well, in the form of my mother, who was screaming at me from our house further down the street. It fucking killed me; the way she hit me, screamed at me, told Mark I wasn’t home the next day when he popped by… told me to stay away from him, threatened to send me to another school…

The previous truth was: I hated Mark.

It’s not that we got off on a bad foot, or he said something nasty – it was just rumours I chose to believe – that he was a jerk, arrogant, loserish, and any kind of “fail” there possibly was. But, in reference to Jackie’s last post and the comment I made – I saw past that. You know, I love Wil right now for who he is, and his soul. I look past the way people look, the things I hear, and I see them as a different person.

Wil even told me that I saw past Jeremy, because his truth is that he thinks Jeremy is an ass. Bethany told me the same about myself. She said I am so different from her in that I give people a chance and I don’t judge them before knowing them properly, I look past the way they look and what I know distantly.

I saw the good side of Mark.

And curse my mother, for doing something so humiliating and prying thoughts into my mind, that inevitably made me realise that enjoying the single life was not worth it.

I regret that.

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Whoops. So I realised I never filled Peyton in on this one.

I guess I went into my little bubble and had a cry and scream about the whole thing… but let’s do this reflection thing as I planned it. (I can’t believe I never posted about it, probably got too caught up in other shit happening.)

Jeremy and I came to the conclusion (well, I suppose he did) that kisses are overrated. And that was after we kissed. Yeah, I hear the voiceover coming from you now.

You kissed Jeremy? What the fuck did Wil think? What the fuck were you thinking?

Before we go off into a plan on slaughtering me: Can I just say that we kissed; simple as that. The fact that I responded to the kiss, just explains that fact itself, also hopefully clarifying that he was the one who went in for it. But let me go to said time and place and said incident of this one kiss. I suppose you could say it was a long kiss (not 12 centimetres, I mean in duration, geez), but how long it takes is a little beside the point. Not to mention, we all have our own perceptions of “long”, and once kissing Wil for 40 minutes was “long” to me. So… I don’t know.

For some time while my mother confiscated my laptop and in which I was just going through a really rough time at home, I often went to the bank before work or just browsed the shops. I had to ask my dad to drop me off early but he didn’t mind, nor did he get suspicious.

During that time I met up with Jeremy, because he just wanted to see if I was okay. Wil didn’t have the time to head down and see me, and after planned meetings with friends and shit, and my mother totally ruining them and making my life miserable, all I wanted was a friend to give me a hug. Jeremy was someone who was able to find the time to come and see me, and the only opportunity for that was by heading off to work early.

(Parents suck, FTR.)

Jeremy and I would just sit there in the park near my workplace, and talk, or just hug, and it just made me feel better, knowing that I had a friend who could cheer me up.

Several times, we’d kissed each other on the cheek upon farewell. I liked to think it was just a friendly gesture (well, since we are close friends), but sooner or later it happened: it went further.

The way Jeremy would like me to tell it probably goes a little something like this.

He was kissing my cheek a few times. It got pretty tempting to just kiss him. I knew it was wrong. I tried not to do it. But I felt really comforted by the feel of his arms around me.
I sort of blurted, “Why do you have to do that? Kissing me like that might as well be the equivalent of kissing me on the mouth.” (Lips? Whatever.)

It was a nasty statement to provoke him, knowing how much he wanted to actually kiss me, and how I often did myself, but also knowing that we were trying so hard. Trying really hard not to. So when he went in for my mouth I just kissed him back. I felt his lips on mine, and his arms around me, and the feel of his tongue before I realised — fuck.

It was an incident that made me cry and rip my hair out on several occasions, because, ultimately, I could not… I simply could not lie to Wil, and eventually, I told him. I freaking love him. He’s not the kind of guy to bash up other people for acts like this. He just… took it with a grain of salt, I guess? He simply disliked that Jeremy had the capacity of mind to perform such an action. He didn’t feel hatred for Jeremy, or want to murder him, or want to stab his heart with a pick axe. He didn’t slap me for telling him two months later, for hiding it from him and not telling him straight away, for kissing Jeremy back…

“Force of habit.”

I’m only… thankful… that that same force of habit doesn’t lead me to do the same thing again. I missed kissing Wil, and the thrill there was in kissing Jeremy – well, that was just wrong. I’m not doing it again. I slapped myself for this one. For fuck’s sake, Audrey. Make out with your pillow or something for the time being.

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“The L word” – love – is an overrated piece of shit. People say it with the word “I” preceding it and the word “you” following it, in most circumstances. And in some of these circumstances, it is said without meaning, or said to someone and things go downhill because it is apparently a sign of “true feelings” and the other person doesn’t feel the same way. Get out. Dude, get out.

I’m not saying that it should never be said, or that if it’s been said, it means nothing. I am not saying that at all. I’m saying that you should look back on every time you’ve said it to someone and you tell me: did you mean it? Was it hard to say?

If you meant it, how did you mean it? “I love you” should never be hard to say when it’s true. But did you mean it as – what? – to your wuvvable big bro? To your mother? To your best girl friend? To your teacher? To the person you think you’re going to spend the rest of your life with?

Cor. Yes, Cor, the infamous, short and much younger ex-boyfriend. I’d always told him I loved him online. But when it came to saying it in person, it was so fucking hard. I was standing for twenty minutes in front of him as he waited patiently, before I could finally say it. And even then, I couldn’t look him in the eye. It was almost embarrassing – no wait, it was embarrassing.

Looking back on it now, I think that maybe I didn’t love him, and that’s why I couldn’t say it, it wouldn’t come out as easily.

Wil. ♥ Obviously, this was just perfect. At least, the first time it was. Wil is the only person I’ve said “I love you” to more than once. The first time, we just had our arms around each other. We’d just been holding each other for a while, feeling the warm and comfort of each other’s presence. Every now and then I looked up at him and held him tighter. Then I looked up at his face and I told him that I loved him, and he told me the same.

We still say it to each other all the time.

Jeremy. Oh yeah, here’s the real problem. Jeremy was in love with me. And I had some feelings for him about a month ago. One day, when I was feeling a bit pooped up, Jeremy told me how amazing I was, how much he appreciated me as a friend, and how much he wanted us to stay friends.

You know those times when you’re hanging with friends, perhaps on an occasion like your birthday, when you’re opening gifts? You open an oddly light package from your best friend. She might not have the best wrapping skills, and she only had Christmas wrapping paper left, but you open the package to reveal – the DVD of your favourite television show that you’ve had your freaking eyes on for ages that you weren’t able to afford or to bother getting because you were a darned cheapskate who preferred to watch on YouTube.

Your eyes go wide. Your mouth gapes open in shock. You screech in excitement.

“Oh my gosh Bethany I love you!”

You throw your arms around your best friend while you’re jumping up and down in a rare act of multitasking.

It’s a little like that with Jeremy. I love Jeremy for the things he does sometimes. I tell him I love him when I completely appreciate the favours he does for me. Except for the time he dropped the L word. I was almost expecting it. I told him, “Don’t say it.” I knew he was going to, and he said that he had to.

“I love you. I really love you. I love you, really.”

I told him, “I like you, Jeremy… I really do.” I asked myself why. I couldn’t say the words he probably wanted to hear. I just couldn’t. It was wrong and I felt like I shouldn’t tell another guy that I loved him. I love Jeremy, as a friend. The reason I wanted to tell him I liked him was… because I feel that I may have been infatuated with him now.

I feared that he’d take it the way I didn’t intend to say it. I loved him as a friend. I’d ripped his heart by the pulmonary artery and damaged his right ventricle a million times over already.

Then a day came when he said it to me again. Fuck it, I thought. The three words exploded out of my mouth. So be it. If you love someone any which way, just fuckin’ tell them. If they mean that much for you to say it, they should know how you mean it.

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Last night, I had a really great conversation with my friend Adam. I mentioned on my about page that “I find that I can talk to him about a lot of things.”

Well, let me tell you something about me and Adam. Adam and I share what is probably the coolest friendship in the history of the world. Adam thinks it’s because we’ve dated in the past, so all that sexual tension is just gone. Poof. As he put it, we can talk about anything at all without him thinking “I want to do her.” It’s pretty damn cool.

Many of our conversations end up revolving around sex. It’s ironic because as a couple, we never got farther than cuddling and making out. There weren’t any opportunities for anything else.

I think everyone needs that friend they can talk to about anything, and even more so when it comes to talking about sexual themes. Someone who is open-minded, won’t judge, and contributes with his or her own thoughts and experiences about sex. And there has to be trust. No worrying about if said friend will turn around and repeat what you just said to everyone he or she knows. Adam is one of those friends for me. I don’t know why I can trust him so much more than the rest of my friends, or why these things are so much easier to talk about with him, but I’m not complaining.

Last night, we covered a lot of sexual topics. We talked about hooking up, hand jobs, bras… the list goes on and on. Over the course of it all, I ended up telling him something that I had never told anyone in my life. It was something that had been in the back of my mind for a while, but that didn’t become explicitly clear to me until I talked with him last night. Don’t get too excited; I’m not going to publish it here. It’s not something that even needs to be said, but telling it to Adam helped me to be a lot more honest in our conversation.

I was actually so astounded by the conversation we had last night that I kept thinking about it again throughout the day today. It’s not that I haven’t had such conversations with him (or others) before, but it reminded me just how much I can trust him and how much I open up when I talk with him.

What I think I’m trying to say is that I’m grateful to have a friend like Adam, and I’m glad I didn’t just throw away our friendship after we stopped dating. Who says two people can’t stay friends after breaking up? Not me.

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