I feel I have to like him in order for him not to feel like I’m using him for something. Maybe I am, maybe I’m using him for everything.
she will always be younger than us
say what you will: petitedeluree@gmail.com Ask me anything
say what you will: petitedeluree@gmail.com Ask me anything
January 24, 2010
The Convenient Boyfriend
January 13, 2010
Truth
I’m going to say it: If you’re at a party and you want that girl to go home with you and you’ve made it clear to her that this is your intention and she’s still frolicking around the party saying her hello’s and goodbye’s, it doesn’t make a difference to her if you fuck tonight or not. She may have seemed like she wanted to while she was kissing you in a dark corner, but she could go without it. She could care less.
January 10, 2010
New Years Eve (2)
So what? the first post was a bit drab, forgive me, I was leading up to goodness.
I saw some skaters, who were mildly interesting and started moshing with Oliver once “Basketcase” came on. I can only roll my eyes so much. I eyed the boy who had smashed a bottle right next to me. I could really care less about what skaters think of me, so I went up to him and said something vaguely insulting. Can British skaters be completely legitimate, anyway? I for one don’t think the slang translates well with the accent.
I would believe the pseudo-arrogance of skaters if I didn’t know them so well. The fact that they actually get offended really easily, take things to heart, obsess about Morrissey and get really fucking frustrated that their adorable little cheeks flush (ah their cheekbones are always perfect), I mean, it’s near damn impossible! (I’ll go on about this charismatic breed later on)
So I try and be coy with this one boy, and really, do I expect anything of it? No. I was just losing momentum, since there was really no countdown for me, where am I supposed exert all my pent up energy that I was saving for welcoming in a new year? So I had to do something. This boy was unresponsive as shit, but the girl he was hanging around with was loving me and my friends. She was of the Amy-Winehouse variety, tattooed and breasts pushed up. Even more fun than the French girl I went to the bathroom with who was making all these weird sex sounds while she pissed.
Being here I’m really trying to widen my spectrum with who I talk to, how else am I to make acquaintances? Amy Winehouse girl wanted us to stay longer, but since there were no real boy prospects and the music had gone from danceable to just bad, I said goodbye to my friend who had dj’d and went outside. Oliver and Bridget were already out talking to some man. Typically I open my mouth and ask what’s going on, and the man went off asking for a New Year’s kiss and followed us for three blocks, oops.
During all that I texted Nathan saying he could have been my New Year’s kiss and he should make it up to me. Sometimes I make myself sick with these types of things. How else can a girl really ask for sex without sounding unladylike? I hadn’t had real sex since my Apocalypse boyfriend (I say real sex because there was a minor event in New York that didn’t really count), and that had been, what? Since end of September.
December 30, 2009
And it starts with a flash (3)
I went to London a few months later after the initial trip that year, Ryan called me and we walked around Soho, not speaking much, both wondering whether this trip would follow suit with the last.
I hadn’t had sex since him and by this time it was Spring. We walked to this little bandstand and started to kiss, personally, it was the only thing that I could do without the situation being completely unsalvageable.
I don’t think anything’s worse than entering an apartment where you never expected to be again and finding the smells and objects familiar. The sex is the same, and when it’s not you know they’ve had sex with someone else who showed them something different. I never really know which is worse.
It happened only once that trip, he looked at me and asked when I’d be in London next, I didn’t really know, so I shrugged it off. Next day I flew to Paris, happy to escape something that I didn’t really bother answering for.
I ended up in London again late in the summer, Ryan had heard I was in town and called and called me. I was already involved with someone (the beginning of the Apocalypse boyfriend) and was in London for work, I just couldn’t imagine myself going up to where he lives and going to that house again and staying in his bed again. I ignored his phone calls and texts and blamed it on the fact my phone wasn’t working.
When I bumped into him (Read first post here) all those memories flooded back into my mind, I literally felt it, all the blood rush to my head. How every trip I made to London he always came up at some time, at a very small point in time, him and my trips were synonymous. And how now, London stands alone without anyone clinging to it and I’m here for only that.
However much I do find when things like that happen to be ridiculous and in the same vein as shitty movie plots, it’s still incredibly important. How else would you improve if you weren’t being constantly reminded about your past?
December 27, 2009
And it starts with a flash (2)
I was half awake when I realized Matthieu running his hands over my arms and slowly tracing my face with his fingers as if trying to memorize my nose or lips. Unbuttoning the buttons on my blouse, contemplating my fingernails that were chipped from the previous night.
I was too hungover to protest to the small caresses, and I didn’t really mind. I opened my eyes and ran my finger over the tattoo on his forearm. We fool around a bit, but don’t kiss (I’ll get to my er, kissing phobia later) and whenever we hear the other boys in the band move around the apartment we tense. We were quiet as we continue to touch, there was never need for translation there.
Everyone went downstairs for breakfast except for me, I needed to shower and I couldn’t really face Ryan. In the shower I laugh about Ryan’s face when I said I would stay at Matthieu’s apartment for the night. The sincere disappointment that comes with the expectations of what follows after a kiss.
I wasn’t particularly interested in either of them, I was just bored and lonely and on vacation, plus, it was winter.
December 24, 2009
And it starts with a flash (1)
The second day I got to London I bumped into literally the only boy in London I’ve slept with. LITERALLY. Outside a fucking tube station topping up his Oyster card. Not even the tube station where he lives, which is forgivable and realistic. But a completely random area. You could say I was in a total shock. Two years had passed, I thought I could run away from my past! From boys I had slept with! From a whole part of my life that seemed like it was just a dream! My jaw had never dropped so fast in my life. A friend of mine had told me, since it was only one person in the entire city I was most likely going to bump into him. I tried to deny it, I mean, come on, London is a big place! But of course, I had moved to London the day before, and I was yet to get a welcome home present. I must have the best luck.
His name is Ryan, he asked for my number and I said I didn’t know it (which I didn’t), so he gave me his. I guess when things get really desperate…However I truly hate repeats.
To start with the present I will have to start with the past. Because like all people who practice safe sex, you need to know where people have been before you go ahead with anything, right?
I met Ryan on a plane to Switzerland two years ago, I was flying from London to Zurich to go to a friend Peter’s birthday party.
December 22, 2009
An introduction
I’m 18 (honestly I would never admit this anywhere, so don’t give me some ageist bullshit) and live in London. I never used to live in London, actually, I’m quite American. I am American. I just moved to London this winter. I had to leave everything by moving here. I had to make the decision that yes, this is what I want, this is where I have to be and leave all the people that love me and make me feel safe. I have a tendency to do whatever I’m scared of doing. In the end everything is still a learning experience. Whether there are successes or failures.
I’m at a point in my life where everything should just be starting. Moving forward. You know, all that shit. But, typically, I was introduced to everything when I was really young. Everything that comes with being from a city, everything that comes from being given all the freedom in the world, and learning how to binge and hold back, and do it all over again because hell, I’m so young, and I can do whatever I want right? (We’ll get to my debauchery)
In the same vein of some blogs that I just started reading, I wanted to start one that followed the ridiculous journey of being so young and still wanting to have love and sex, and for reasons that don’t really make any sense, and because being young cancels everything else out anyway. I’ve been in love before, probably still am in love. And believe me once I had it, all I wanted to do was destroy it, I literally said to myself, why couldn’t this have come later, in maybe five years? I still have my own shit to do, I still have to become a person, become that idea of myself that I think is an adult. Form my own philosophies on life, and ideals and all those important things. So why do I constantly pine for something that isn’t very practical right now?
I just got to London and literally this is my new life. I’m away from all those boys I slept with at home, away from all those girls that hated me for doing so, done with school, done with doing work and not having it go anywhere. But of course, it’s foolish to think that I especially can ever run away from my past. I’ve always been an impossible waif, so wherever I’ve gone I’ve left some sort of trace.
I’m keeping this anonymous as well, ‘cause sometimes things can get really narcissistic. This isn’t about promoting my name, this is about everything else. I’ll try and stifle the pretentious writer in me and try and write as honestly as I can. I do enough writing like that elsewhere, so this can be like my London diary.
xx
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