Footy Porn

As I am sitting here getting a rare opportunity to watch Aussie Rules Footy, it has occurred to me that in 3 years I have not yet mentioned my, ummm, let's go with "enthusiasm" for the game.

I had always been interested in sports, and I had a favorite team in most professional leagues (sometimes I switched teams... ba dum bum bum) but it was never more than a strong liking. It wasn't until I was taken to my first footy match that I truly understood what LOVE for a sport meant. The entire crowd was completely submerged in the game - and never came up for air.

Every kick.
Every mark.
Every goal.

Every second of every quarter, the roar of 98,000 people rumbled in the pit of my stomach.

And I fucking loved it.

The first game I ever saw (on TV or in person) was Collingwood V Geelong in 1994 and since I was there with Jim, who was a Collingwood supporter, and because I didn't know what the hell was going on, I assimilated his allegiance. And then they won... and the crowd went totally fucking berserk. Well, hell yeah! That's my kind of people - for the most part.

I quickly learned that Collingwood supporters are THEE most obnoxious fans in the entire league and if you don't follow them, then you HATE them; they are the most hated team in the league. They would be likened to that of the Oakland Raiders -- when anyone actually cared about American Football, that is.

If you love the Magpies, you REALLY love them, like this guy...

Yeah, that.

OKAY. So, I might not be THAT insane, but I absolutely love wearing my Magpies' scarf/hat/jacket in Toronto - especially on public transit. It draws out Australians like a magnet of hatred. I cannot even count the number of times a complete stranger has come up to me, just to tell me that Collingwood sucks! 

And I fucking loved it.

I learned the sport quickly, and I tried out for the high school team and made it. It was great times! But I must admit, I rather preferred sitting on the side lines to watch my boyfriend (Oops. Every time that is said, a feminist shaves her pits!) while he ran his cute, tight ass up and down the oval.

After I had moved back to Canada, he would mail me photos of him playing - it was like my porn, my footy porn, and those photos may or may not have gotten a little sticky. Ahem.

The typical guy that plays Aussie Rules has all these wonderful features:
1. Big arms
2. Big thighs
3. Tight, small ass
Oooh yes, and...
4. If they moaned my name, it would have an aussie droll.

My knees? Weak.

It's the only thing that's ever successfully hypnotized me. True story.

And being an exchange student did have its perks - because after writing a cheesy letter to their club, they invited me to come after a game and MEET ALL THE PLAYERS.

And I died.

Then later that night (possibly not thinking entirely about him), I rode my boyfriend like a wild stallion.

Holy hell, I sure do love Australian football.

Go Pies!

Hangover Square - Premiere!

It's here. It's finished. 

Hell yeah!

I am so proud to present the video that has been a long haul coming. I couldn't be happier with it! The first (second, third... eighth) time I viewed the first cuts, I totally may have wept. Oooh, yes. I really enjoyed directing and seeing what I had envisioned when I wrote this actually come into fruition. It's almost surreal and I love it.

When I first got the idea, I knew exactly what song I had in mind, and Kevin Quain (writer of the song) was utterly amazing to let me not only use it, but to take full creative rein over the production. Michelle Rumball's interpretation of Kevin's song is both heart-breaking and beautiful.

AJ Leitch, who shot and edited the majority of the video is a gawd damn genius. And my actors, Mara Finn and Nathan Kyght rocked my world and gave me lady wood, for real. Tina and The Cameron House were so gracious in allowing me to use their places. Everyone really came through for me and I'll be forever grateful for that.

And yes, look out for my shameless, yet highly strategic Lady E product placement. AHEM.

If you enjoyed it, PLEASE spread the word so it can get the exposure that I believe it deserves.

Without further adieu, I present Hangover Square, performed by Michelle Rumball.

 

Honey Eater

If I were to ever get the movie about my time in Australia set in motion, I'm thinking it would look something like this. 

Dan? Lauren? Have your people call my people*, for realzies. (*me)

Tonight's Special: Torture with a side of masochism

One year ago, I traveled back to the only place I've lived where I really felt a deep connection and belonging - Melbourne. And if you haven't been reading my crap blog for the last 2 years, I should fill you in on some of the back-story from my time there.
It goes a little something like this...

Yes. Okay. All caught up to speed now? Fantastic.

So, needless to say, I have had a somewhat "strained" relationship with those host parents. This is something I've always been a little sad about, since they were/are good people and we got along famously... until they learned I was sleeping with their son. Sometimes, I think the whole thing got blown way out of proportion, because, really, they should have been proud their son snagged a catch like me.

But I digress.

I arranged to have a reunion dinner with my student counselor, who happens to be an incredible smart ass, inappropriate man-child, but is also a close friend of said host parents. I thought I would extend an olive branch and invite them as well. I knew they'd HATE to have to sit through a dinner with me, but what can I say? I really do like them no matter what they think of me, after all, they're Jim's parents... and I'm a masochist.

They accepted.

Then cancelled.

Then re-accepted.

Then cancelled again.

Then finally accepted.

See? Tormented. I loved every minute of it.

They arrived almost exactly when I did. The handshakes were deliciously awkward, although I was genuinely excited to see them. The husband looked annoyed, but he often looked like that, so I couldn't be sure if it was caused entirely by my presence.

My counselor was late. Always.

The small talk was fine, mostly because I love talking about myself.. ummm.. hello! It was rather enjoyable on yet another level because Jim and I had arranged to see each other the following day, but didn't want his parents to know.

STILL! 
AFTER ALL THIS TIME. FUCKING HELL, IT WAS GREAT.
I am a dirty, dirty secret.

Finally, my counselor arrived and the rest of dinner went smoothly... like sliding slowly on my stomach over cracking ice to which at any second I could fall through to my freezing death. It had been more than a decade, but even so, I could see the wife stabbing me with subliminal knifes in between bites of her chicken. Would we ever be able to relax and joke about all this someday? Well, if a decade hadn't healed this wound, then not bloody likely. They didn't waste any time after dinner was over and after paying with a "Buy one, get one free" coupon, they left immediately.

My counselor and I moved to the patio for some further drinks, and to recap this bizarre evening.

"Fuck! That was wild! I thought she was going to lunge across the table and strangle me." I giggled with relief between sips of my rum and Coke, "I still can't believe they actually showed up."

He was grinning from ear to ear as he explained, "That's nothing, sugar tits! I was on time, but I waited in the car park and texted him that I wasn't coming at all, just to see him fucking squirm for 20 minutes!"

We both laughed like obnoxious hyenas for a good while and then finally calmed down. He focused on me again and said affectionately, "Darling, it's fabulous to see you again. I've missed you, babe!"

"You are a fucking shit disturber, but ridiculously out of control!" I was still in shock after learning the stunt he had just pulled... and in total awe, I concluded, "I've missed you too. So much."

Last Year Ago

This time last year I had reached my limit.

I couldn't breathe.

I had to escape --

Self-preservation at its most desperate.

I needed to go home.

Melbourne.

Approaching the city,

My breaths became heavy;

Fighting back tears of relief,

Of elation,

Of memories,

Of a place so alive.

This time last year I sat on the train,

I laughed and cried openly

As the city revealed itself to me.

Some different; improved.

The important things stayed the same.

I walked through the Richmond gardens

Usually buzzing with people

Dead silent this day --

No football.

I sat on the steps of the MCG.

I shivered and then wept.

Why? I'm not sure.

Relief, perhaps.

I missed you intensely.

This time last year I touched your skin,

I felt your lips,

I smelled your skin,

I saw your smile,

And heard your voice.

This time last year I kissed you goodbye.

AGAIN.

It wasn't enough.

I'm still recovering.

Last year ago, I felt something.

I've been searching ever since...

Little Green Bag

Ahhh, the 70s. It's time to harken back to a time when things were simpler. OK, scratch that, they were pretty damn complicated, but nevertheless, whenever I hear George Baker Selection's Little Green Bag two things happen.

1. The heavy bass sets my dog into a complete fucking frenzie, which is equally annoying and entertaining.

And

2. I remember Jim. Yes, yes. I could easily make an entire compliation playlist of songs that remind me of him, by my gawd, this is one of the top. Whether it was the soundtrack to Reservoir Dogs, or the actual movie playing in the background, there was a lot of fun going on in the, umm, foreground. Tarantino? You rocked the early 90s!

"K-BILLY's Super Sounds Of The Seventies Weekend just keeps on coming with this little ditty,
that reached up to 21 in May, of 1970, The George Baker Selection, Little Green Bag..."



Upon further reseaching for this song, I discovered that Tom Jones covered this with The Barenaked Ladies.
How friggin' cool is that?! It's true that it lacks the bass that the GBS version has which vibrates my lady bits,
but it's still a not too shabby of a renditon. Plus, I love my 'Naked Ladies, so I'll show my support.



And to those who get today off, happy friggin' Labor Day party people!
I never experienced labor and I sit on my arse all day at my job, so the jokes on today, I think. Suck it!
Have a drink for me and take off those white slacks, not because it's Labor Day...
because they are white slacks. Eww.

Jim's Note

An Alternate Ending (Part II)

In case you're just joining us, Part I is here. This is Part II. Enjoy.

--------------------------------------------------------------

He leaned in to kiss her neck and started to pull off her jacket. He began to walk backwards, continuously removing pieces of her clothing, leading her down the hall and into his bedroom. They both were undressing each other with fervent excitement and yet still wanting to savor every second.

They laid down on his bed and she ran her fingers through his dark hair as he kissed her chest, her nipples, her sternum, her scar. She went to grab him and he resisted, "It's fine! You are beautiful." His words were all too hauntingly familiar.

His tongue simply touching her sent pre-climatic tremors throughout her entire body; she couldn't take it for very long. Her impatience was over-powering and she wanted and needed him inside her. She usually had difficulty reaching orgasm, but today, it came effortlessly.

She pulled him back up to her face and he pinned her arms above her head. "Remember this?" Of course she did; it was like
the first time they ever kissed. She was in awe that he remembered. He was always insistent that he had forgotten so much of their past together.

With a quiet and broken voice, she responded, "The first time. Our first time. Yes."

He let go and they leaned into each other for a kiss gorged with sentiment and affection while she wrapped her legs around his and firmly ran her fingers up and down his back. He suddenly pulled back slightly and caressed the side of her face. He looked intensely into her eyes: "Are you sure this is what you want?"

She didn't say anything; she just took hold of him and gently slid him inside of her. For a few moments, he didn't thrust; he just remained deep inside, making them one. He then pulled back and brought her up with him, sitting up together on the bed. They held each other to stay up, intimately and effortlessly.

Slow and loving.
Smooth.
Tender.
Enchanting.
Rhythmic; like a dance.
And then harder.
Louder.
Frenzied.
Volcanic.

They fell back on to the bed, exhausted. They continued giving each other was seemed to be like congratulatory kisses - quick and happy yet firm and satisfied. They rested while savoring each other's company. Together; in silence. For the most sublime hour of their lives. It physically ached to get up, knowing that it was all coming to an end.

Again.

Time was a selfish tyrant stealing back its gift. Taken away. Used up. No more.
She had a plane to catch.

After some fumbling, dressing and prolonging the painfully inevitable, he walked her to the door. They embraced one last time, attempting to dissolve into each other. Their arms fell down and found each others' to hold tightly while they kissed. It was hard. Harder even than the last time she said good bye. Much harder.

He brought up her hand with his and kissed the back, as if her skin was the most precious thing in existence. He had let out a few hiccups of heartbreaking desperation as they engaged in a wordless conversation. She pushed up on to her toes and gave him one last loving kiss before she peeled her body away from his for the final time.

As she walked away from him, she knew many things.

It was the happiest moment of her life.
And the saddest.
He would always be wonderful and sexy.
To him, she would always be young and beautiful.
And now, their love will be eternal.

It will grow.
And breathe.
And love.
And laugh.
And live on.
Forever.

"These days turned out nothing like I had planned..."

An Alternate Ending (Part 1)

In an alternate universe (a.k.a. My imagination) this is how "the final day" really happened.

His text: I've thought about it. Can you be here at 2 tomrw?

Her text: I'll be there.

Her heart couldn't stop pounding since she received his message. Her breaths were short and fast. Thoughts and emotions were rapidly swirling over her body like satin ribbons; they were wrapping around her like a cocoon and getting tighter. The anticipation alone was more excitement than she had felt in so long that she couldn't even estimate to compare.

She tried so hard to sleep that night, but it was difficult. Her mind kept racing. The occasional bursts of jumping up out of bed to do some happy dancing probably didn't help either.

That morning she showered, shaved, inspected every inch of her body. She changed outfits five times - but finally decided on the first one.

She hadn't smoked in 4 years but she had 6 already that morning. She was nervous but it was the best kind of anticipatory nervousness; simultaneously ecstatic and terrified. She felt drunk.

The entire drive took longer than she had planned. Every stoplight she panicked and looked at the clock; she could not be late. To her immense relief, she arrived 25 minutes early. It was too early. She sat there in her car, waiting, thinking, doubting. No. She had come this far - there was no fucking way she was going to turn back now. She had been through far too much already, all of which had led her to this very moment in her life; she was ready.

Still 10 minutes early, she couldn't take it any longer. She approached his house gripping her skirt, trying to cure her hands of their anxious moisture. She opened the screen and knocked on the solid wood door. He mustn't have been far as he almost immediately opened it and smiled.

For the first time in almost 24 hours, her heart stopped throbbing for an eternal second. She held her breath and then exhaled deeply.

He reached out his hand and took hers, leading her in through the door way. Still holding her hand, he used his other to close the door behind her and then brought her in close, in one fluid motion. Their bodies pressed up against each other. She was buried in his chest and then she looked up slowly until their eyes met. He smelled so good. She could feel his heart beating in synchronized intensity with her own.

The silence was ceaseless - but right there, as they embraced for the first time in so many years, it was the most pure moment. Two opposing magnets that had lost each other had at long last been reunited. Perfection.

Finally, he spoke, "What does this mean?"

She smiled and replied, "It means everything... and it means nothing."

He let go of her hand and brought his up to caress her face. She closed her eyes and became lost in his touch as he pulled her in even closer. His lips touched hers. At first, it was gentle and unsure, but just beneath an eruption was waiting, full of repressed emotions that instantly burst into a frantic and over-whelming kiss. Zero to Sixty in 5 seconds flat.

Love.
Hate.
Regret.
Loss.
Resentment.
Yearning.
Lust.
Sadness.
Euphoria.

It was all there, in that kiss.  

After what felt like a lifetime inside that kiss, he pulled away to look at her. She opened her tear-filled eyes to see his were equally soaked - and they both began to laugh. She was just about to say something and he stopped her.

He whispered, "I know."

She gulped, composed herself and then nodded in agreement.



to be continued... click here for Part II

Waiting For The End (My Un-Apology)

Dear Jim,

I already had a post lined up to be my final piece/peace to you but here's the thing...

This morning makes it two days since you responded to my post the way you did, and I was feeling like I'd been gutted. My stomach hasn't stopped wrenching; my head throbs and my heart aches.

You say that nothing is sacred? Everything is sacred; every single fucking moment. If it wasn't, it would not have been worth writing about. Every post I've written about you is sacred to me; they are extensions of myself. I won't apologize for being honest and expressing myself; and I will never apologize for what you have meant to me for all these years. Never.

I was driving alone today and this song came on; I had never heard it before and it caught my full attention. I had to pull over to the side of the road while I listened to the rest of it. When the song finished, I let out a fantastically loud and angry scream, thinking...
      if I screamed loud enough,
                 you could telepathically feel my sound waves
                                                                   on the other side of the world.

The scream then transitioned into an hysterical sob.
After about 5 minutes, I felt inexplicably better and I drove home.

I whole-heartedly believe that things happen for a reason, and I know that I was meant to hear this song at that particular moment. It helped me to heal a little bit, even if only for a moment. How could it not?

"Waiting for the end to come
Wishing I had strength to stand
This is not what I had planned
It's out of my control....

Flying at the speed of light
Thoughts were spinning in my head
So many things were left unsaid
It's hard to let you go... 

I know what it takes to move on, 

I know how it feels to lie, 

All I wanna do 

Is trade this life for something new 

Holding on to what I haven't got 

Sitting in an empty room 

Trying to forget the past 

This was never meant to last, 

I wish it wasn't so..."

It Was The Music Room That Did It For Me.

It wasn't love at first sight, but I had known within days that Jim was going to be someone special to me.

I always thought I was a bit of a freak because I was a painter/writer but also shot 75% from the 3-point line AND would have sold my soul for backstage passes to almost any gig of a Seattle band. I knew a lot of people (both girls and guys) that were usually only one or another, perhaps 2 out of 3 at most... but Jim? He was a perfect trifecta - my match. In one afternoon we could debate about lyrics from Nirvana's Bleach album, play a heated one-on-one game of basketball, and then sketch in our own folios, in silence...well, until we fucked each other like a pair of rabbits, anyway. Ah, to be teenagers in love.

When I saw him again a couple months ago, of course I was nervous; it had been over a decade since we had seen each other. We had spoken a lot online the last few years, but that was it.

When he answered the door, he was still looking good; still smelling good and still dressing hot - but come on! I am now a mature, married mother of two - so crap - I had no choice but to maintain my composure. I had promised myself, or rather, I threatened myself that I would kick my own ass if I cried; I couldn't let him see me cry, even if they were happy tears.

We exchanged a hug and some niceties. I wanted to just blab ridiculously about everything that I had been through in the past decade, but I maintained my cool as he showed me around his place. Bedrooms, nice. Living room, yes. Kitchen, ok... and then, as we passed a painting THAT I HAD DONE hanging on the wall, he showed me his music room. It was not a huge room, more like a den, but it was floor to ceiling with CDs; there were hundreds upon hundreds, and I got a little weak in the knees.

If I am to be totally blunt about it, if I knew I wouldn't get caught, if I was single, I would have dropped to my knees and given him the best head of his life right then and there, in that music room. That room was like fucking Spanish Fly and I was over-whelmed. Over-whelmed with what? I don't quite know. Nostalgia? Perhaps. I was slapped in the face with one of the 3 reasons I fell in love with him all those years ago; it literally surrounded me.

We had then gone outside to the backyard which was perfect because I was able to get some fresh air and hide the few renegade tears that had managed to escape as a result of experiencing that room - those little bastards! After a quick and bittersweet lunch, he dropped me off at the train station; I texted him right away.

Me: It was amazing to c u. Meant a lot to me.
Jim: No worries. Was nice to see u too. Xox
Me: Wish I had more time w/ u; would love to see u 1 more time ;)

And then he wrote me a frickin' novel that had to come to my phone in 3 downloads. I barely read half of it while rolling my eyes and snoring out loud. Blah...blah...something-something about not wanting to complicate anything with my marriage (not that it was any of his concern to begin with)...blah..., and needing to treasure the good memories we have. Blah.. blah...la-dee-fucking...blah...

After all these years and all we meant to each other, he should know me by now. I'm not a happy girl when I don't get my main course, let alone denied dessert. What can I say? I'm a spoiled bitch. *POUT*

Jim: I'll think about it.

Did I see him again? Of course not.
Do I still love him? Always.

A Goodbye Letter

Dear Jim,

It had been so long and here we are once again.

Your eyes are the same; they are kind and deeply soulful but are sad, tired and reflect an injured heart.
You have been through a lot and had not much luck in love over the years; I wish that could have been different for you.

Your lips are the same; they are reserved and elusive but remain hypnotic.
Your talk is small but still wonderfully comforting to hear. It’s been so long since I’ve heard it.

Your hands are the same; they are soft and caring but have matured.
You hold your daughter with love and unwavering affection that is both endearing and admirable.

Your life is different; it is complex and multifaceted, but I can find the simplicity through the chaos.
Looking towards the future and being hopeful for what is yet to come.

Our lives have gone in different directions but in a parallel universe, sporadically converging.
We are now worlds apart and have lived 2 lifetimes since the last we met.

Distracted conversation, a shared focaccia and a milkshake... and then goodbye.

Still, a shag would have been poetically superb.

It's so hard to say good-bye (Part 4)

7 months had passed before I was to see Jim again. The night before this particular day the phone had rung; it was Jim. God I loved the sound of his voice so much! I had forgotten just how much until I heard it again. We planned to take the morning off school and meet at his house. I didn’t sleep at all that night.

My stomach started turning as soon as I saw him walking towards the door. When he opened it and I saw him standing there, I couldn't catch my breath. He let me in. He had his artwork for school all laid out, so I looked over that while he read the paper. There was an uncomfortable silence between us. Then we started watching television, still saying very little to each other. I was going crazy, screaming on the inside, “I STILL LOVE YOU!” I didn't know what to do, so I just started tickling him - just as it began the very first time; as if we were re-tracing our steps and had come full circle.

We got closer and then our lips finally met. All our buried feelings came flooding back like a tidal wave and it felt as though time had stood still for us and we had never been apart. He held on to me so tightly that it almost hurt, but I didn’t want him to ever let go. He took my hand and we went upstairs; stopping on every other stair to kiss. It took us a while to get to the top and into his room.

It felt as though we were re-living our first time together, but this time was so much more powerful because of everything we had become for each other since that day. It was over-whelming, but I managed to keep my composure while we made love. Afterwards, he remained on top of me while my legs were wrapped around him and he just stared into my eyes, played with my hair and kissed me over and over again. It was so tender and loving, like he was fascinated by my every feature. He had never done that before, not that I'm complaining.

We didn't need to say anything.

It was as if we both understood how wonderfully poetic that moment was to each other. A tear managed to escape my eye and rolled down the side of my face. He wiped it softly away with his thumb. He didn't need to ask me why I was crying, he knew already. We stayed there like that, frozen in that moment for at least an hour. The whole world could have been crumbling around us and we wouldn’t have noticed.

Finally, we got dressed and he was going to drive me back to school. It was an excruciating ride because we knew what the destination meant. It didn’t help things any that the beautifully haunting music of Portishead was playing in his CD player – talk about twisting the knife! “Cause nobody loves me, it's true; not like you do.”



His eyes were swollen, fighting back his tears the whole way to my school, as we drove in silence, listening to those heart-breaking lyrics. We had arrived; he turned the car off and looked out the window, away from me and said with a broken voice, "Goodbye... Behave... I will always love you... Goodbye."

I sat and cried for a couple minutes, prolonging the inevitable act of me actually exiting the car. He continued to look away while I cried but had found my hand and held it tightly; I didn’t even attempt to hold back anymore. I was bordering on hysterical. Tears began to roll down his face, although he tried his hardest not to let me see.

His words still repeated in my mind, "I will always love you... Goodbye.”

I stood there on the curb until his car was completely out of sight, hoping that he would turn around and come back. I could still smell his aftershave on my skin. I closed my eyes; I wanted to shut out everything to try and stop hurting. I never wanted to open my eyes again because he was gone, and we would never be together again. The finality of it all was a bit too much for me to bear – we had officially had our last precious moment as 2 people that loved each other and now would lead separate lives. I still had 3 weeks before I left, but I don't think either of us could have said goodbye again. I know now that it was just as difficult for him as it was for me. It shouldn't have had to be like that! People should be together when they are in love. Fuck what anyone else thought! Who were we really hurting? No one!

But there we were, and I had just watched my soul mate drive away
and out of my life.

My legs felt completely numb;
I fell to the grown as if I had melted into the cement.

Our story was finished.

The Party (Part 3)

So, shit had hit the fan with Jim’s parents at this point and there was one more significant event that took place before I moved to my next host family. Jim and I had attempted some semblance of a non-physical relationship, but it didn’t go very well. We were both confused and angry and exhausted. This one afternoon I was working on some school work in the dining room, listening to “Breathe Again” by Toni Braxton on continuous repeat (horribly depressing break-up song). Jim was leaning up against the side of the staircase, watching me. He was there for almost an hour – I pretended that I didn’t know he was there. After about an hour he finally came into the room, slammed the off button on the stereo, paused for a split second to glare at me with puffy, tear-soaked eyes, said nothing and then stormed up to his room.

That night, his best mate was having a party and surprisingly, his parents encouraged me to go, much to Jim’s disapproval. I invited a good mate of mine from school to come with me; I got along with a lot of Jim’s mates, but I still wanted someone there that was 100% on my team. We had arrived separately, and a bit later than Jim; he had probably been there for at least an hour already, and I could see he was already drunk. He was pretty moody even on a good day, so adding alcohol and depression wasn’t a good look for him; he was rude and tempestuous, especially towards me. I was annoyed with him, to say the least.

Before my placement, not only was I a virgin, I also had never drank or smoked in my life... until that night. I wanted to stick it to Jim by that point after I witnessed his behaviour – and conveniently they had just begun a drinking contest. How hard could it be? I’m in! Well... not only was I good at it, but after downing the first couple beers, my tongue was numbed to the disgusting taste. I won by a long shot – I chugged 7 beers in approximately 30 minutes. I was the latest hero of the party... and to top it off, Jim was livid with me. Everyone was cheering and high-fiving me while he sat in the corner and simmered in disapproval.

But hold on... I didn’t stop there... what about smoking? Why the hell not? Jim was smoking that night; he didn’t normally! My common sense was totally thrown away that night, just so I could spit some gas on to our already raging fire of a relationship. I had turned into a crazy stupid girl that night, one that I barely recognized. My mate wasn’t helping at all – from her perspective I was finally coming out of my shell and letting loose.

“You gotta try a ciggie! It’s an essential when yer drinkin! Camm’on, live a little!”

I think that’s what they call peer pressure... ya think? I was a willing victim of it; I folded easily and took a drag. I don’t think I inhaled the first couple times, but then I did. I coughed a bit and got a super head rush – which could have also been due to the immense alcohol I already had in my system. By the end of the night, I was rather enjoying it – look at me – a pro smoker! If Jim was a cartoon, he would have been emitting fire from his ears and nostrils by this point. I was completely enjoying watching him being so protective of my well being. It was delicious.

Jim had made his way on to the couch, semi-conscious. One of his mates approached me on the dance floor and proceeded to shove his tongue down my throat. I’m still not exactly sure how that had all come about, but I kissed him back. It was like a natural reflex, but then I quickly pulled away. I was still trying to wrap my head around the feelings of being totally intoxicated as well; it was nothing like I had experienced before. Dizzy, horny, sad, happy, angry, drowsy, confused... all at the same time. His mate knew that Jim and I had some kind of un-definable relationship going on, so I have no idea what possessed him to do what he did. Jim saw the entire ordeal – the ONE thing I wished he didn’t see me do that night!

He managed to prop himself up on the couch, like a corpse rising from his grave. “Fuck you. How could you do this to me? Fuck off!” The words were like a knife stabbing me in the chest after every slurred phrase. I started to feel sick to my stomach, but surprisingly not from the alcohol. We started to have one of those monumental alcohol-fuelled couple’s fights, but then he quickly realized that not everyone was entirely privy to our situation. He escorted me into his mate’s bedroom and we garbled intoxicated insults at each other for some time, like we both had frontal lobotomies; it was way too much drama, even for us! It was ridiculous. We were hurling hurtful words back and forth, he called me a slut at one point, and I rebutted by calling him a spineless bastard.

The next thing I knew, we were in his mate’s bed, having sex – drunken clumsy make-up sex, in which we exchanged mutual proclamations of undying affection throughout. I said it already and I’ll say it again... that entire day was thoroughly ridiculous.

Forbidden Love (Part 2)

So, I had fallen in love with the son of the people I was staying with during my school exchange. It was all hush-hush and devastatingly romantic...until his mother had found a poem I had written to him. She really gave him shit, but hadn’t confronted me about it. We knew we had to put the brakes on our relationship – or at least be much more cautious about it. Over the past few weeks, we had become rather risky and stupid with our liaisons. We really didn’t know how to act casual with each other; it wasn’t as if we fell out of love and gone our separate ways like a normal break-up. One night, Jim was working in his dark room and I knocked to come in. I went over to sit on the chair and said nothing. There were only the red lights on in the room. He looked over at me and started to cry, hard. Then he came over to me, knelt down before me and through his tears, he professed, “I’m so scared that I won’t be able to live without you. What we have is more than I ever thought was possible. You are my whole life and I want to be with you for the rest of my life.” He then rested his head in my lap and we just sat there and cried together in silence.

Although we did make a fair effort into calming down our physical relationship, we had made strategic arrangements every couple days to steal some time to be together. Sometimes it was just long enough for an affectionate kiss, and sometimes we had time for more. I wished those moments with Jim could have lasted forever.

As I was coming home from school one afternoon, I saw him over the hill. As he walked towards me, I could see he was pale and looked like he had been crying. He grabbed both my shoulders and caught his breath long enough to look me straight on and explained in absolute panic, “Mum knows everything. She might be having you sent home!” My stomach churned over and over. I really thought I was going to be sick right there on the sidewalk. My skin felt like it was on fire and I was slightly disoriented. Jim grabbed my hand and we walked slowly back to the house together, as if we were walking towards the noose of our death sentence. I wanted to run away, but really, where were we going to run to? I was 17 and in a completely different continent than my entire family.

Jim’s father was waiting at the door. He escorted us into the living room and sat down. “We should very well have you on the next plane home! Do you have any bloody idea what you have done?” His voice escalated the more he continued, “What the hell were you thinking? Ya know, for once I wish you god damn teenagers would think with your brains instead of your bloody hormones! I won’t decide anything until Mum gets home. She is the one that figured it out. The both of you have hurt her beyond words! As for me? I’m just absolutely blown away with all this!”

The minutes up to, and including her arrival were an agonizing blur. I was kneeling beside her chair, and we were both crying. I think I said “Sorry” at least 20 times. Although the major feeling was panic and fear, I was also a bit resentful that I was put in this situation. I mean, really... Hurt you beyond words? We didn’t murder someone, we fell in love! Why was it so terrible? Unfortunately, I knew it was far too risky to ask questions. I was fucked already; I needed to keep my big mouth shut and not rock the already-sinking-ship.

“I already had had words with my son, but apparently, that wasn’t enough! Since I discovered the condoms in his rubbish, I could not deny the situation any longer. I am so disappointed in both of you!” She paused to compose herself.

I was screaming inside my head, “WHAT? Condoms...in the rubbish? We had given up on condoms weeks ago – it took too much time. He hadn’t disposed of evidence from 3 weeks ago? What an idiot!” I couldn’t believe how careless he had been; my mind was racing.

She then delivered her decree, “Now, I did a lot of thinking and I’ve decided I don’t want anyone to know about this entire mess. It would make our family look bad, so we are all going to pretend that it never happened and try to make the best of the next month before you move on to your next placement... Is that clear to the both of you?”

“Yes, thank you!”

Jim also had let out an injured, “Yyyyyes.”

After her decision was made known, she got up to leave. Jim’s dad had left the room and she leaned over and whispered to the 2 of us, “I knew every single time that you thought you were sneaking up to his room at night. I just couldn’t ignore it any longer.” Eick! I cringed when she said that and became VERY grateful to her that she had never chosen to bust in on us. I don’t know who would have been the most dramatized by that– myself, Jim, or her?

The remaining time I had left at their house was a depressing eternity. I never wanted to be apart from Jim, but at the same time, I couldn’t wait to leave! The entire situation was toxic. Every time either of his parents looked at me, I felt them psychically attempting to burn the word ‘whore’ into my forehead. Jim had chosen to pretend that I didn’t exist; he spent most of his time in his room. The 4 of us had become emotionless zombies when we were forced to share each others’ company, like at family meals. His brother, however, remained totally oblivious throughout the entire ordeal.

I was emotionally exhausted by the time I left. It was like living every day only 6 inches away from the one person I loved the most in the world, but there was a piece of bullet-proof glass wedged in between us. I could see him, but couldn’t touch him, and he wouldn’t let me talk to him either. I would break out into random fits of tears at any given time, at home, on the train, in the middle of class – it didn’t seem to matter; I had totally lost control of myself. I knew one thing for certain: There was no way in hell I was going to let a love like what Jim and I had just die without a fight. It wasn’t like a breakup where one person was over it and the other was in denial. We both felt the same way about each other, yet we were apart. It was an impossible situation, and it wasn’t over... not just yet.

He’s totally The One (Part 1)

I don’t know why a group of adults thought it would be a good decision to place a 16 yr old virgin girl in a home with 2 teenage boys (16 & 18), but that’s exactly what they did. After a few weeks of getting to know the family, I had grown pretty close with the older son. We had practically everything in common; it was weird in a perfect way. We would stay up until 1 or 2 am every morning, just talking about anything and everything. We would joke around with each other during the day and it became progressively more of a “contact” sport.

We were coming home from a basketball game on a Saturday night, and we ended up holding hands in the back seat of the car. All the hairs on my neck were tingling and my heart was racing. When we got dropped off, we were the only 2 at home. We decided to watch a movie and then 5 minutes in to it, the usual mercy fight began. I ended up underneath him on the floor; he was straddling me, pinning my hands above my head. He then let go, ran his hands down my arms and lifted my top over my head. The kisses started at my bellybutton, and then followed slowly all over my chest, and then up to my neck. It was the most wonderfully painful anticipation I’d ever had in a make-out session, up to that point in my life. He finally gave me a deep and hard kiss. It was incredible!

After a while of rolling around on the floor, he kept saying, “What are we doing? What are we doing?” And then he would answer himself, “Who cares, it’s so fucking right.”

And it was right... if the situation was ANYTHING but the one we were in. It was like a fucked-up modern-day Romeo & Juliet story. I wasn’t supposed to get involved with anyone on my placement, let alone a member of my own host family!

Two days later, we planned to meet up at lunch and take the afternoon off school, together. He had just got out of the shower when I got home; still slightly wet, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist...Yum! We went up to his room and he laid me gently on his bed, taking off my clothes. I was SUPER self-conscious about my body because I had acne on my chest, shoulders and back. He looked me right in the eyes and calmly whispered to me that I looked beautiful– that definitely helped me relax– he was so sweet! He took out a condom and gave it to me...

Umm, Yeah... And...?

I was scared out of my mind! I put one on a banana once, a couple years before in health class, but that was it! Luckily, he helped a little and it went on the way it was supposed to. I even managed to remember to leave room at the tip!

I always heard that the first time hurts a lot, but here’s the thing... there are factors to that. Your masturbation habits, fore-play, and the size of the guy’s penis. So, I had the first factor taken care of; I think I had been “exploring myself” since I was about 8 years old. Secondly, the fore-play was great, and lasted a good while. Lastly, he was a good ‘average’ size (Which I really had no basis for comparison at that point). If the guy is hung like a horse, it’s going to hurt whether it’s your first time or 100th time, so if it IS your first time, it might be unfortunate for you. My experience? It was OK; it didn’t hurt at all. However, I was more focused on what was actually happening between the two of us, emotionally, rather than the act itself. After that moment everything changed for me. I fell profoundly in love with him that day, fast and hard.

Considering our situation, it was only going to end one way– badly.