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!