The Bitch has spoken.....

so far, this summer hasn't really amounted to much. I had full expectations of wild parties, staying up till dawn and delicious drunken antics with loose men....so far all I've managed to do is buy a set of towels for university and shag a friend...

however, it's only mid-july, so I suppose I have a lot fo time left. I also found out today that my best friend appears to either have forgotten or completely ignored my disgust at a mutual friend of ours' behaviour on prom night, back in June. This saddens me somewhat, not because my friend isn't sticking up for me, but that I chave let a simple piece of boyish arrogance (I am referring to the mutual friend here)over-ride all the good things in this person.

I simply shouldn't be bothered about what my friends do when they are drunk, but for some reason this has really upset me, and, even being a lady of closely guarded emotions (you have to be when you went to a boy's sixth form, or face being stoned to death), it has caused me to shed more than a few tears. I think this is because me and said friend have been through a lot together, my disasterous love life, and him telling me a secret he has guarded for a long time, and I feel as though all the time and energy I invested in the friendship, the phone calls I have answered at 3am, the times I have cancelled plans to console a devastated friend, appear to have all been forgotten... but maybe I expect too much, either that or he's a selfish twat who doesn't deserve me

Also, I appear to have gained some weight... I could be described as 'carrying a little extra baggage', I'm not fat, but I'm no size zero either. After being ever so girly and slathering myself in melon-scented moisturiser this afternoon, after a delightful bath, I caught sight of what appeared to be a gigantic girl in my bedroom, then I realised it was me in the mirror. A worried expression appeared on my face, and a I ran to the scales. The damage wasn't too bad, I have gained 4lbs. However, hating diets and a fairly steady food regime means that my weight rarely fluctuates...so this was truly horifying.

I suppose I was kidding myself slightly thinking that you can sit on your arse all day, revising and eating digestive biscuits and not gain weight. So I guess my bikin may have to make a star appearance down at my local pool, or, don't fall off your seat... I may have to take the dog out...(I am home alone you see, for two weeks

Speaking of being home alone, I have noticed that nobody does any tidying up in our house, except me, my mother has been gone for 48 hours now, and there is not a single dirty dish, item of dirty laundry (except perhaps for this blog) or spec of dust in the house...I think I'm going to like living alone in London, come September.

A man I have been seeing for a few months told me, a few eeks ago, that 'despite his better judgement, he was falling in love with me', now, alcohol had been consumed, so I'm not sure whether he is sincere or not. Not that it really matters, I certainly don't love him, infact, I'm not really sure why I keep going back for more. But I do... So what is a girl to do, 200 miles away, surrounded by young men with long hair and designer stubble, who will undoubtedly break my heart? I can't hhold a torch for this man, so do I cut off all ties with him now, and save him the pain and me the embarrassment of a break-up, or say nothing, swan off to London, and continue to have (great) sex with him when I'm home? The latter sounds great, I do get on with him and the sex is raher enjoyable, a matter of physics that I shall go into later, but on the other hand, I know it's wrong to lead him on, even if he is not infact falling in love with me.

As usual, my friends who are my age gave no usefull advice whatsoever, I suppose this is because my love life so far acts like it's on some kind of eatern European imported steriods, hidiously accelerated and warped.(expect a lot moe eatern European references, I am fond of them)

Well, I have a date with the object of my desie, and he lives in my underwear drawer. Peace out brothers.

Currenly listening to: open up - John Lydon and Leftfield
Currently wearing: A old shirt of a man I was too good for

A tall, blonde man....a man I once loved... I have just returned home from a week in my 'homeland' (cue any foreign accent), Scotland with some old friends...and it was, well, interesting.

I've slept with enough blokes to know when their heart's not in it...sometime's it's better that way. And that's what I was hoping for, just a bit of innocent fun to end a sexual droubt of around a month... But how could I have been so naive? I was away with a an ex boyfriend, who was my first love, and his best friend (we have all known eachother for years). A bad combination from the start I hear you gasp? Not really, we still all speak regularly, (even though one is living in France and the other in Canada), and have always got on very well (me and said ex-boyfriend were however heartbroken when the split occurred).

Now, as most of my friends know, (particularly those boys who have been more of a friend than any girl will ever be), when I drink, I do silly things, most of my sexual experiences have been while sozzled..(judge me not please...you're here to read). I can drink more than the average girl (probably 'cus I'm not that average , but it does have its effects. Anyway... the Scottish Highlands are beautiful, serene and peacefull, I gasped a small sigh of relief when I realised my mobile would not receive any signal. But there isn't a great deal to do...not when you've walked all you can walk, and even my (well used)thighs ached, and not the good kind of ache either! So we headed to the pub, and ate and drank into the 'wee' hours (as they say in Scotland). We wandered back to our hotel, vowing to get up early and walk the next day.

And that, as they say, is when it happened.

As you may or may not have gathered by now, two people had sex that night, and the basis of this story is of my guilt and endless worrying, as I may have ruined my friendship with one of the most important people in my life.

It was drnuken, frantic and surprisingly unembarrassing. But unfortunately still rather wrong. So folks...the moral of this story is don't sleep with your ex's best friend, or if you do...atleast kick him out of the bed so said ex boyfriend does not walk in on the two of you in post-coital slumber.

I was going to go into the details of the aforementioned sex, that was meant to be the purpose of the blog, but thinking about it is making me feel rather bad... guilt ain't pretty. So perhaps another time.

Anyway, there were tears, a few punches (skinny men shouldn' fight...take note) and a lot of shouting. And let's say that the 8 hour drive home wasn't great either. What's also pised me off is this: I have loved another man, I'm off to university, my boobs have got even bigger- a lot has changed since I was 16 and heartbroken because long-distance relationships don't work. So why does it feel like I have cheated? Afterall, I've watched D take inappropriate women back to inappropriate places, and I never said a word... nearly 3 years have passed, and maybe people think that is not a long time, but it's a sixth of my life...

Or maybe I am forgetting the fact that I choose emotionally-unstable men, and sleeping with their best friend, even after 3 years, is always going to fuck their heads up.I'm just a bad girl, my granny was right.

For now, I shall say goodbye, and remember kids: alcohol, sex, drugs, smiling, smoking, masturbation, high levels of saturated fats and looking good are all bad for you!