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May 20, 2008

Five times in one night. Not a double entendre!

Time to blow this fascist popsicle stand, S! Lap it up you radg ers, not doubt you will miss my pretty head words. And of course moi, Miss Sugar, the one you love to hate! You’ve been reading my journals for so long now, these last few years you’ve watched me grow up, it’s almost creepy even. No, this isn’t goodbye, but it’s true, I am jumping ship. To be honest, it’s not just the change of layouts that prompts this abandonment. Old friends are leaving, there is no longer anything worth reading, and, times are changing! The world doesn’t stop for anyone, cats, and here I am at a new chapter in my life. This last week has been chaotic to say the least. I’ve survived a 4m fall onto a bed of jagged rocks only to walk away unscathed, lost my virginity, hitchhiked to a degree that would make Jack Kerouac proud, and, I even survived dinner with Hugh’s parents. But wait, you don’t really want to know about the sticks and stones, leering truckies or prudish parents! What you really want me to tell you about is…the SEX. Because in the wise words of de Sade, the world over, we eat, we , we , we kill, and we die. ing, however, always seems to get the publics attention. Which is understandable, but one thing that doesn’t make any sense to me, however, is the comparing ing to chocolate. WHY? I really don’t see the connection, and even if some geek decided to elaborate on it, I truly could not give a . Now…how do I tip toe around this in the most tasteful and sensible way? I suppose its in bad taste and quite vulgar that I’m going on about this on the internet, but, so many of you who read this journal are good friends, and friends tell each other everything. My “friends” tell me everything and I tell them everything…about others, while nothing about myself. But this is different; I have the anonymity of the internet and can say what ever the I feel like saying.

Once upon a time, I used to think of ing as a vulgar past time that sure as hell felt good, but was done against walls in alleys next door to night clubs with strangers who often didn’t even know each others name. I used to also think of it as something done for money to feed smack habits and contribute to the spread of HIV and syphilis. Basically, I used to think of ing as one night stands and other classy things of the like. I’ve been a very good girl. Ever since I was 15 I’ve had all sorts of offers from all sorts of guys, and, I’ve always said ‘no’, despite wanting it very badly at the time. Actually, my life has been full of times where I’ve wanted it badly but did nothing on account of my narcissism and the way I looked down on all of the pathetic whores who have one night stands. No offence to anyone reading this, but if you have one night stands, I really think you are by far worse than a whore! Because at least whore’s get paid, but you’re doing it for FREE. Jesus ing christ, would you look at this?! Moi, preaching about virtue, is this what I have turned to? Certainly not, I think I’m just evading the topic of interest.

Well, Friday night was the night. It was all very impulsive, as at around 10pm we decided we’d sneak out and meet up at midnight to just hang out. We did that, and being winter we couldn’t be ed staying out on the cold and went back to my place. Hugh had slept over at my place many times by now, so there was no risk of us getting caught, and besides, Alex had gone along with the whole “gay” charade. Now, there’s one very important thing you must understand, cats. We love each other in a way that words simply could do no justice to. It’s crazy, we love each other in the Christian and Satine way, only more, because we’re real people and this is no tragedy, it’s a ing fairytale, HA. Talking about this, “love” is such a weak, petty word; it doesn’t even begin to describe things. In fact, last night the last thing he said to me was that he loved me in an “indescribable way”. What happened on Friday night is all my fault though. I wanted it so bad that despite him saying that it was a terrible idea because he had no gear, I found myself reckless in the pursuit of pleasure. Well, that’s hedonism for you! We felt like it was the right thing to do at that point in time, and, it was. I regret nothing, only the fact that it was unprotected. Was it “good”? Holyingchrist, it was BETTER than “GOOD”, FUCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK! Oh.My.ing.God. To say that it was “good” would be the understatement of the ing century. I remember asking my friends if it hurt, and if you really bled the first time. And I’m not going to lie, the first time it does hurt quite a bit. Yes, you do bleed, or at least I did, but not in the disgusting “that time of month” way, just a tiny bit, in fact, you wont know that you did until you go to change the sheets the next morning. Supposedly, if the guy pulls out before climax, it’s safe. Well, I know absolutely nothing about these things and I couldn’t care less at the time. We did it at least five times, it could have been more, I’ve never been good with math and how could I possibly keep count at a time like this?! What really s me over though, is that my ten year old brother was asleep in the next room the whole time…WITH THE DOOR OPEN. But like I said, I am ing RECKLESS and I was so gone that I remember saying something like “oooh I don’t give a if Alex hears ooooooooohhhhhhhh”. And he didn’t! He woke up the next morning after Hugh had gone and I casually asked if he’d slept well…and yes, he had indeed! So sure, all of this must sound like I had a very good time indeed, however, not all went as planned. On the last go there was a slip up and I don’t want to go graphical or anything, but yesssssssss what happened led to me running off in the afternoon to meet Sam, Amara’s boyfriend, to obtain the Morning After pill. Well, I took that, and it better be ing potent because if I ended up pregnant I’d punch myself in the stomach till I had a miscarriage. I know, I know, I’m worrying too much, but just saying, I really hate the idea of having a child. So if did get pregnant and couldn’t get an abortion, I’d drown the ing thing in the ter. Hell, moving along now, don’t want to get the Pro-life s too worked up. So I admit, it was silly ing without the gear and all, but really, THAT! And you know what else? waiting till marriage! No, the idea of marriage in general! Haha its funny because we went past a wedding dress shop the other day and Hugh said “LIES!” In the end, everything because we love each other and in the end, that’s ALL that matters, THE GREATEST THING YOU’LL EVER LEARN IS JUST TO LOVE AND BE LOVED IN RETURN, and now that I know that, I can die happy. Oh but just thinking about it all has made me almost sad for people and their manufactured affection! And you know what’s really ing funny? The way EMO S manufacture their cheap, nasty, sappy, fluro “<3” and such horse! HOW I ING LAUGH AT YOU S WHEN I SEE YOU CONGREGATED IN THE CITY AND ALL OVER THE INTERNET! There, I said it and have to leave you now to write this ing Art History assignment. In the meantime, never mind the bollocks you radg s! Bye byeeeeeee white wedding! HA!

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