The Friendship Ban

“OH MY GOD PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE” is not a thing people generally want to hear coming from someone they fancy; I therefore decided that I’m better off telling you rather than screaming that statement to a certain person who is currently trying to force himself into my life. Let me explain;

I have a draft blog post titled Nice guys finish last, awesome guys finish in her revolving around the previously growing friendship with a boy suffering from a classic case of ‘nice guy syndrome’.

The Nice Guy is the guy you text when you want to feel good about yourself in a nice way (rather than a sordid way like Cas and every other Not Nice Guy that you talk to). The Nice Guy is LOVELY. One of the nicest guys I’ve ever met. Despite being horrendously fucked over and up by the girl he lost his virginity to, he manages to not be a jerk. But sadly, as the story goes for most nice guys, they are not instantly appealing. As much as I feel like I should like him; I don’t.

And I’ll tell you why I don’t: ever since I invited him to a party at my house last week, in a completely FRIENDS ONLY manner, he has become a bit.. overexcited:

1.       He sends me texts twice ‘just in case the first didn’t send’.

2.       He then sends me a facebook mail with exactly the same message since he was ‘online anyway’.

3.       Whenever I’M online and haven’t replied to attempts 1 or 2, he starts a conversation with the same message, which in most cases has been a ‘hey u k?’ type catastrophe.

4.       Once I have stopped pretending to be enthralled by his riveting conversation and haven’t replied for a good 10 minutes he pulls out the timeless ‘whoops wrong convo’ trick.

That’s why I don’t.

It's not like I even express any feelings towards him that aren't simply platonic. I really really like him (..as a friend) and as much as I want to be friends with him he won’t fucking let me JUST BE FRIENDS WITH HIM! He has this sort of platonic magnetism; you want to be friends with this guy. He’s funny, friendly, confident, everything you look for in a friend. However whatever friendly gesture I put towards him he throws back in my face along with his penis. I need to just stop being his friend, for his own good. Like screening calls, but with people. He’s having a party in the second week of August though so it would be a shame to cut him out my life before then…

Plus there’s the fact that I want to get with one of his best mates at said party.

 He may fly off the handle when this happens.

xAx

The bad kind of wanderlust.

If it was unclear, the previous post written by me was about seeing Mark in the pub the other night and his prolonged, inappropriate staring. I got incredibly angry at this as it’s nothing different to how he normally acts around me, but this time I was just so fed up with it. I met his annoyingly gorgeous eyes across the table for the last time; then moved the fuck on with my night. I forgot about Mark for the rest of the night, and had a good night with no sorrow involved. This was all fine and dandy until my friend Rapunzel (whom she shall be hereby known as) and I left the pub pretty tipsy and headed back to my house. Collapsing into bed we got to chatting about Rapunzel’s avoidance of her ex that consisted throughout the evening. She decided at this point to tell me that after I had had enough of encouraging Mark’s staring that he continued this throughout the night.

“In a sort of longing way, like a ‘why did I fuck it up’ kinda way” claimed Rapunzel.  I brushed this off as him finding it awkward being around me considering we hadn’t seen each other or spoken in 5 weeks prior to said pub-going; however this festered in my mind for days, I know what look she was describing and I wanted to know more. It hurt to not know more and took all my might to not question her claims over the next 4 days, until this desperation turned into annoyance, depression and a post. In that order.

The next Saturday night however was different. The next Saturday night brought forth a new horizon from a setting sun.  The next Saturday night involved Ben.

How long does it take to get over a relationship? For some reason I have always been a firm believer in the rule that states it takes approximately half the time you were in a relationship to get over said relationship, even though I have never been in a situation in which I’ve needed to get over someone as drastically as I have with Ben. This is supposed to allow you the proper amount of time to grieve the relationship, contemplate what you learned from it, and move on to a healthier relationship.

The shock of seeing him in the local watering hole last Saturday night did not leave my body feeling like stomach had just broken, my stomach felt indifferent and I ‘pfft’ed his presence off like the friend you haven’t got round to saying hello to yet. Of course I still look for that tiny bit longer than one should in a social situation; however doesn’t this happen with most people when coming across someone they’ve loved? And of course I still love him to pieces; but not in the same way anymore. I am no longer in love with Ben.

Ben is no longer in love with me. Ben has let me go.

But Mark’s eyes won’t let me leave. They drag me back to nothingness when I desperately want to leave. I am counting down the hours until I can leave. I need to get out of this hideously vicious circle. 10 weeks; 10 weeks then I'll be gone. Breathing fresh air and fresh problems. I was researching a backup plan if I don't get into uni. Plan B is still leave. I need to get away from those eyes.

I know I go on about this so much and I’m incredibly sorry; if you know me and are reading this you know how much love I have for both Ben and Mark, you will also know that I try my best to not let that erode me just a little bit every single day. If you don’t know me; if you’ve just come looking for a blog about dealing with Vaginismus as a teenager you are reading the wrong blog. I try to deal with a lot of other shit too. Sorry about that.

I know it’s teenage strife but it’s the only strife I know.

Stay Sexy

xAx

http://www.westfieldhealth.com/a-z/article.asp?article=Vaginismus&Displayname=Vaginismus 

I cannot refuse your eyes.

Please don’t look at me tonight.

You appear unexpectedly, my stomach drops at the sight of you.  All the butterflies drop dead and sink to my very core; foul and putrid like any hope I once had.

I don’t acknowledge you; you chose to not exist anymore. Your shadow still haunts me like a cold ghost.

A shred of emotion leaks from your person. That look, I remember that look. I grasp onto it for dear life, linger; knowing fully well this want will be the death of me.

The burn used to be a bonfire, blasting so high that everyone could feel its warmth. It went cold overnight; you brought the monsoon and held me responsible. You make me feel fault and all I can do is sit here and feel it burn into me like your eyes across the table.

 I still see those embers; flickers of light in your eyes. But I know, I truly know that we are dead; dead from the inside out, festering, a perfect rot. Still cannot resist revelling in fantasies, bleeding in through my ears and dancing in my mind.

My mind dances but I remain still; stagnant surrounded by smiles, twisting and turning around the table to an ambience of happiness. He’s happier without me, he definitely is. He surely is.

xAx

Just a quicky.

I feel a bit lost today. It may be the semi- severe hangover but a good percentage of it is down to the fact that I don’t have anything to do for a very long time. I feel like I should be doing something exciting. But as we all know excitement is expensive and the last few days of ‘hurray sixth form education is over’ celebrations have left me utterly spent.

So my time shall be spent thinking of things to write about, or doing things that will demoralise me but entertain you.

Stay Sexy

xAx

Reputation

We will be known forever by the tracks we leave.

So I got with a guy at a party who turned out to be more relevant in my town than I first thought. Now my town, let’s call it Vattsville for name’s sake. In this town everyone socially significant knows everyone socially significant. However I class myself as one of those people and did not know this person. I was very drunk and encouraged by several friends to get with this guy. Let’s call him Howl, as his All Saints t shirt had streaked across his chest those words exactly. I like a guy in All Saints, I’m not a brand racist or anything; it just seems that guys who love their All Saints and Urban Outfitters over their Ed Hardy and Superdry know what they’re doing. Fashion is as fickle as reputation. When you get it wrong, you live with the consequences for a long long time.

Anyway back to Vattsville; I was invited to a charity event last weekend which offered the prospect of a night off from the mundane activities of revision and consequently the brink of self-mutilation. Being a party animal forced into captivity by the shackles of education takes its toll on the best of us.

I walked into the ridiculously large marquee which revealed an abundance of boys and alcohol, laughing laced with the Buzzcocks’ seemingly suitable song ‘Ever Fallen in Love (with someone you shouldn’t)’ blasting through the speaker system.

“If you want a lift home you’re going to have to get with Howl” said my driver for the evening; I’d asked of Howl’s identity as soon as I had sat down, being the only face I didn’t recognise on our table. This is an incredibly rare occurrence that I didn’t know or at least know OF someone who was obviously close with a lot of my friends. After a couple of hours and more than a couple of drinks we got to talking with two other mutual friends.  Howl was funny; however this may have been because I was on my 4^th pint of Pimm’s at this point, and not my usual type (blonde AND a football player? No thanks – however give me a brunette rugby player any day of the week please) I fear the alcohol and general exam stress induced horniness may have been the reasoning behind my type shift.

I ended up getting tired of the general drunken flirting; (I am definitely that person who, when they get the signal, makes the first move simply out of boredom.) pulling him into the drinks tent and getting off with him seemed to be the best solution to this problem.

Everyone’s a lovely person when trying to pull. Many people will put on an act to get some action; I am happy to say that I am one of those people. Reputation is a funny thing, it can stop you from getting with someone but it can also keep you classy. It stops us from just getting with anyone based on looks or this fake forefront personality.

Annoyingly, no one told me of Howl’s reputation of being a fucking nutjob.  This probably a clear sign to get to know someone before I get with them; but after careful considering I’ve decided to ignore this. As you only live once. If we all gave a shit about people’s back stories then we wouldn’t have fun anecdotes such as ‘remember that time A got with a guy who turned out to be a nutjob?’. Even Cas; who has a pretty (and deservedly) bad reputation for sleeping with anything that moves. Who gives a shit, if I’d have given a shit about this I wouldn’t have had sex in 8 months; and that really isn’t acceptable.  

And what of my reputation you ask?

Stay Sexy

xAx

HELLO

So I’m here to apologise for the lack of new posts and to pre-empt the fact that this post shall be a load of bollocks. But you know what, I really don’t care.

I’ve been busy ok? Get over it.

I’m sorry, that was rude. How are you? WUBU2?

How did your exams go? Mine are going alrightish at the moment, I have one left which I really really really need to absolutely nail. No pressure. I’ve realised that I’m not good at exams and thanked all sorts of gods for the invention of coursework, no matter how much of a fucking pain it was at the time.

I’ve had sex once with Cas and it was a bit weird and tad awkward; mainly because I was sober. Well kind of. I drank what I thought was a substantial amount of Finlandia Mango Vodka during the day just before I went round his, turns out I’m more a heavyweight then I thought. Sobriety was firmly achieved.  I’ll probably do a more extensive post on why we haven’t had sex since this. It will be depressing and whiney but I DON’T CAAAARE.

(In other news I bought Frank Turner and Bon Iver’s new albums, which are both fucking incredible. If you enjoy good music you should definitely buy, beg or steal them.)

As you can see the combined effort of minimal sex, self-enforced learning and subsequently having no reason to leave the room in sleep in (which should really be appropriately renamed ‘The Hovel’) is causing me to rapidly turn insane. But not even the fun insane; more like the weird kind of insane that’s funny at first because they’ve gone foetal and are rocking back and forth but then it’s just sad because they don’t stop. I’M A CWAZY FUCKER.

I also have lost any form of hygiene routine; resulting in not looking in the mirror or changing out of the same pair of pyjamas for several days and finding that I look incredibly similar to this:

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUTTTTTTTTTTT it’s only like 8 days until this awful draught of socialising, showering and sexing is O-V-E-R. And we all know what that means:

You better have stayed sexy whilst I’ve been away…

xAx