Journals are kind of strange.
I’ve kept a journal since I was made to write one for grade 10 English class. I was fifteen. My teacher said that we could mark parts of it private, and he wouldn’t read it. He lied. I know this because he put encouraging remarks on the heartfelt teenage angst that I had marked as private. I had lamented about my small breasts when other girls had wonderful, beautiful breasts … Continue Reading
The first boy I ever loved and I are still in touch. He lives in the UK, we catch up when we are anywhere in proximity, which of course isn’t often.
A recent situation reminded me of a sweet moment with him, of which there are many. Sweet moments, I mean.
He had invited some of his friends over for dinner. He was cooking. I was hovering in the kitchen with him, sipping a cold … Continue Reading
Dear cute kilted boy,
I have a terrible memory for things both big and small, but I remember you.
We were at a BDSM event: I knew one person there, and nobody else. But I am pretty good at flitting around, pretending to be social.
You wore a kilt. Of course I remember you. I mean, *you wore a kilt*!
You were standing with two other men, I suspect they weren’t your friends, on reflection. … Continue Reading
I was looking up minor comic super heroes the other day and came across some (lots!) I’d never heard of.
A few of the best ones (and by ‘best’ I mean ‘lamest super heroes EVARRR’!!):
His super power is *turning himself into stone*.
“Gadzooks, someone is being MURDERED!!! Let me help you!!! LOOK, SUDDENLY I’M A ROCK!! HA HA! FOILED YOU, MURDERERS!!”
She can generate ground tremors. Alcohol helped or … Continue Reading
It was a weekend, I took him out for lunch to a pub that sits on a point overlooking the bay. A beautiful spot on a hill, the islands in the distance.
It was warm, sunny.
He got us drinks, ordered the food, and came back to me.
We were sitting side by side in chairs on the lawn looking out over the water, talking softly and laughing about nothing in particular. I had one … Continue Reading
My first love was a woman, well, a girl really.
I was 17, she was a year ahead of me at school. She was fun and hilarious and street-smart in a way I wasn’t. An athlete, with that long-limbed lithe body that young athletes have. Full of that kind of careless body confidence that comes from knowing what those limbs and muscles are capable of, and a self awareness that results in a loping casual … Continue Reading
After writing my previous post about vulnerability, I thought I’d follow up with an example of how it feels to me.
My boy and I had not been together all that long, I was at his place. It was about 10.30pm. It was winter, a foot or more of snow on the ground outside. I went to the toilet and used the last of the toilet paper on the roll. I looked around for … Continue Reading