Err, You Like A BOY!

-This is a pre-scheduled post as I am currently away from the Internet visiting a friend-

I actually wrote this post a couple of months ago and it's not strictly relevant to my life right now, but I rather liked it and also think it provides a bit of back story to the stuff that is going on in it currently. I didn't post it at the time because I didn't want the world and his wife to know what was in my head but now it doesn't really matter because everyone important knows now. Anyway, onwards:

I'd forgotten what it was like to fancy someone. You know, school girl giggly, resisting the urge to doodle their name everywhere kind of fancy someone. I'd forgotten how fun it could be-I never had this with my last ex-it took me so long to realise that I actually liked him that I missed out on all these enjoyable bits and I'd forgotten them all. To fall asleep thinking about them because you can't get them off your mind, to dream about them and then to wake up and have them spring into your thoughts before anything else. When you like someone for no other reason than because they are them it sends you just a little bit mad, in a good way of course, but I had forgotten quite how much this was the case. I'd forgotten how you start to expect every Facebook message, every text to be from them, even if they have no reason to be contacting you at all, and though you try not to you feel a smidgeon of disappointment when it's not them-every time. I'd forgotten how you over analyse everything they say and do to try and work out if they like you too or if you're just seeing things that aren't there because you want them to be so badly. You find yourself talking about them all the time even though the conversation isn't relevant and you can turn any situation into a thought about them through some weird steps of logic that only you could possibly understand. You get so tangled in your own head that you can't tell what's just having a flirty friendship and what's actual flirting-can't tell what's actually there and what's in your head, can't tell if they're feeling this madness too or if it's all going to end in tears-for you at least.

And then if you are brave enough to ever tell them, if you're lucky enough then they just might feel the same and then there's a whole other lunacy to contend with. There's the delicious sense of expectation between the point where you admit that you like one another and your first kiss-you're existing in a sort of limbo state between not being anyone's 'person' and belonging to them-somewhere between 'single' and 'taken'. Your imagination (if it's anything like mine) will run riot imagining all the things that you might do together. You don't know what their kisses feel like, what they look like naked, where you'll go or what you'll do or even who you'll be together, so you imagine them all a hundred different ways. All these stories, all these unknowns play out in your head every night stopping you from going to sleep and it's hard even to mind because they're wonderful-you're in them, they're in them and a host of new things that are as yet unknown to you. You start to memorise all the things about them that make you like them-the way that they smile, the colour of their eyes when the sunlight hits them, the things they say that make you laugh. You start collecting all those random, useless pieces of information that you acquire about someone you know really well-their middle name and their shoe size, their favourite colour, the name of that band they really like-all stuff that is entirely pointless but you can't help but remember it anyway, because it all adds to the picture of them you keep in your mind. You remember the way they look at you-really look at you-like they never want to stop looking at you, like they're committing your face to their memory (and they probably are) and you know that you have the exact same intense expression on your face too.

You can't help but feel like a teenager waiting for your first kiss all over again-you just want to claim them as your own by smushing your faces together, just to end the terrible, wonderful anticipation of it all. You're nervous and excited and every time you think about them you can't help but smile, a huge great grin across your face that tells everyone around exactly who's on your mind. You constantly allow yourself to get lost in the could-bes, might-happens and unknowns because they make you happy, you keep imagining how it's going to feel the first time they kiss you, what might happen the first time you go to bed together, what it will feel like for you to be theirs, for them to be yours. 

You know when you fancy someone-really fancy someone, when you can't get them off your mind and wouldn't want to for a second? I reckon that's the greatest kind of madness.

-Jenni-

Blind-Sided

Right now, internally, I'm having a massive freak out, and thought a good way to deal with this would be to channel it into something productive-hence why I'm furiously scribbling down this blog post instead of going 'AAAAAH' and running about like a crazy person.
I've been thoroughly blind-sided by something from my (fairly) recent past that my brain is currently refusing to process in a manner which is helpful to me. So I'm telling you about it instead.

I was searching through my old emails for specific ones relating to a purchase I made a bit ago so I could look up some information. I typed the name of the shop 'Past Times' into the search bar and when the results came up I just clicked on the first one and scrolled through each email looking for the one I wanted. Clearly my computer was pulling a funny and decided that I needed to be reminded of some 'Past Times' of my own because in the middle of these emails, for no reason I could see, was a somewhat personal email conversation between me and my ex from a couple of years ago. And for some reason, even once I'd registered that what I was reading was definitely not what I was looking for, I carried on and read the whole exchange. Then promptly began freaking out.

In the context of a relationship, they were perfectly normal emails-a little bit of naughty flirting, a few complements and 'I miss you's and lots of 'I love you's. I can totally understand why I chose to keep the emails at the time-I'm a bit of a sentimental bugger and like to keep nice things like that to read from time to time. But in the context of that person being my ex-boyfriend, someone who no longer features in my life in any way, they freaked me the fuck out. Why? Because I'd forgotten that's how we used to be. I'd forgotten that there was ever a time where our relationship was pretty healthy and functioning normally, when we said 'I Love You' and meant it, when we complemented each others and when we just had fun together. It's so easy when you break up with someone to just remember the bad stuff and every time they acted like a dick-you just put all the good stuff to the back of your mind, out of the way so you don't think about them any more. I guess it's a subconscious coping mechanism, an act of self preservation-it's easier to stop being hurt by someone if you think of them as a horrible person, not a wonderful one. And for the most part it's a good tactic because it works-I've moved on from that relationship totally and more importantly put myself back together again. Seeing those emails so unexpectedly was like a slap in the face-an unwanted reminder that what we used to have was a good thing once, that there was a reason I fell for him in the first place, that he's not all bad, that there was a reason that I was so heartbroken when we ended.

So is there a lesson in all of this, now that my heartbeat has returned to normal and I'm no longer screaming inside my skull?
Well I guess I should cut my ex some slack sometimes, because he did love me once (and I, him). Sure, that doesn't change the stuff he did at the end and doesn't mean he wasn't a bit of a dick too, but he wasn't always one. I think that's something important for me to remember. I hope that he and his new girlfriend can be as happy as we were, once.

I've also learned that it's prudent to delete all your old emails from exes straight away, so you don't end up in some awkward slap-you-in-the-face-with-memories situation down the line.
With that, I'm off to Spring clean my inbox once and for all!

-Jenni-

To Every Man I've Ever Kissed, Part 2

[Source-Open Clip Art Library]

This is the (considerably shorter) half of this two part blog. You can read part 1 here if you want to read it , which covers right from when I was 6 to when I was 18. This one picks up where that one ended, and takes me right up to today, and was the harder half to write for sure. But then again it would be, because it's covering my most recent ex-a tale you've all heard before and one I'm doing my best not to dwell on too much any more. Succeeding mostly too.
Here's part two then:

To My Second Love;

It’s weird, I can’t remember our first kiss at all-I was still with Mr. #1 (though by this stage I don’t really know why) and it evolved as a goodbye peck on the lips-how I hadn't clicked that I majorly had the hots for you by then I just don't know. I remember the first proper ones though-I remember nearly everything about ‘Superhero Night’ actually, although I bet you've forgotten every detail. I remember holding the curtain open to let the moonlight illuminate your face and realising just how much I liked you, and that I didn’t feel guilty about it. It was finally time for me to let go of Mr. #1 and you became Mr. #2 not too much longer afterwards.

I always liked your kisses, they weren't slobbery, or sticky, and you weren't miserly with them but happy to give me as many as I wanted and take as many in return. When you used to send me goodnight texts with lots of xs on I'd joke that I actually wanted that many when I saw you again-and you always obliged. We were sickeningly sweet behind closed doors, although I doubt many of our friends would have guessed because we were never really affectionate in public-something which I didn't actually mind too much at all.
I can still remember our last kiss-I remember the ending as clearly as the beginning actually. It was a day full of emotions and tears and heartbreak on both sides. At the end you left and I remained collapsed on the bed, utterly broken. I heard your footsteps over my head as you walked out of my house and then I ran after you, wanting to kiss you goodbye just one more time. It was a fleeting kiss, as you stood on my doorstep for the last time, and it tasted of tears but I'm glad we had it because it was the final full stop on the final page of our book, and I really needed that.
Heartbroken, I may have been, but I'm thankful that we ended things properly. Even though that wasn't the last time I ever saw you, in my head it was the ending of everything I knew at the time so I'm grateful to have a good memory to look back on, really. I can forget everything after that, because you’d already moved on anyway, but that kiss was the last moment you were ever mine.

To Mr. Next, Whoever You May Be;

I've imagined how our first kiss will go a hundred times (although you don’t actually have a face in my mind yet) but I know it won’t turn out like that, really. I'm going to be so nervous and feel incredibly sick and it’s going to be awful.  It will be my first ‘first kiss’ for at least 4 years so I'm not really going to know what to do with myself. I'll be horrendously under confident and shy and basically wishing you would do all the work so I don't have to. I apologise in advance if I bash my teeth into yours or turn my head the wrong way or can't actually look at you at all because our faces are so close and I want to kiss you but just can't. I’ll be nervous and jittery and undoubtedly a bit crap-it's been a while, I've sort of forgotten what I'm supposed to do and how it all works. I'm hoping it will all come back to me after that first time, but you might need to remind me a little. I just hope you’re understanding, and kind, and laugh with me when things go a bit wrong rather than letting it make things even more awkward. I'm looking forward to it (and am terrified about it) already. Now come and find me already, I'm getting impatient!

-Jenni-

To Every Man I've Ever Kissed Part 1

[Source-Open Clip Art Library]

I've been a bit neglectful of my blog recently, but that's because not much has been happening to me and also because the things that have been happening to me I don't want to (or can't) blog about yet. I read a similar one of these posts on Thought Catalogue and really liked the idea so thought I'd do one of my own. Things are going to get personal and I do hope you won't judge me too harshly-believe me I've spent enough time doing that to myself. It's in two parts basically coz it's really long, which is surprising (for me) given that it only talks about 5ish people.
Here we go then, a letter to every man I've ever kissed, part 1:

To the very, very first;

We were in school together and you always let me catch you when we played kiss-chase. We were “boyfriend and girlfriend” for all of infant school and probably entirely too adorable too.

I saw you, not too long ago actually, on a bus. You clearly had no idea who I was but I remembered because I never forget a face and had to smile to myself. You have a weird accent now (I would guess from uni?) but your voice is still the same. You smoked a cigarette at the bus stop-eugh, lucky escape.

To my first, proper kiss;

I was 14ish and miserable because all my close friends had boyfriends and that was everything I really wanted. You were 17ish (I think) and we met at Explorers (Scouts). I can’t remember all the intricacies but I remember the first kiss. We were sat on your bed watching Futurama and we kissed for hours. I have to confess it wasn’t the best kiss in the world-there was a lot of slobber. I kept reapplying my lip balm because you were drying my lips out and you hated the texture. To this day I still don’t really like saliva and I hear you still hate Vaseline too-fair’s fair I guess.
I’m sorry that I wasn’t the person you wanted me to be-but I was just a teenager who wanted to be wanted-I had no idea what love was, not then. I can only hope your kissing technique has improved by now though.

To my first love;

We were too cute together, I’m sure. So chronically nervous about admitting our feelings to each other that my friend gave you her phone so you could text me to ask me out. Your hands were too big for the tiny buttons, so in the end she did it for you-an unorthodox start, I'll admit. I texted back my response and that was it, we were a couple. We spent a lot of time nuzzling and snuggling and probably being incredibly insensitive and ignorant to our friends. Your stubble used to mess my hair up when you rested your chin on my head (ever after known as the Velcro Effect) but I was too smitten to care. I remember one time when it started raining really suddenly when we were in town-everyone else scattered for cover but we stood kissing in the middle of the downpour like we had just stepped straight out of a film or something.

Honestly though, I can’t really remember what your kisses felt like. Towards the end of our relationship we stopped doing anything other than a swift peck on the lips and I remember missing those times at the start when we just used to kiss for hours and hours. Basically we just slowly unravelled to the point where we didn’t know each other anymore and no amount of pretending would save us. I’m sort of sad to say I can’t even remember our last kiss.

To Mr. Intermediate;

I can still remember what I said to you after you first kissed me: “Well if someone had been watching us all morning they’d be cheering now we’ve finally kissed!”-it did feel pretty inevitable. And of course, we shouldn’t have and I felt bad for doing so-but that didn’t stop me doing it again. I was pretty conflicted at this point-Mr. First Love and I were falling apart at the seams and I was so starved of affection that flirting with you, kissing you, seemed like a good idea at the time. You said all the things that I desperately wanted to hear and I just gave in to that in the end. I was terrified of losing him, of having to learn to be on my own, even with my lips glued (literally, they were quite sticky kisses...) to another man’s face I still thought I loved him and couldn’t be without him. I know you wanted me desperately and would have been mine in a second if I’d asked, but I have to confess I’m not sure I ever, properly, wanted you. 

We spent maybe 6, 9 months sneaking around and kissing illicitly and I started to hate myself more and more-I didn’t like the person you were turning me into.  I can’t remember when we stopped, or why, but my crushing sense of guilt probably had a lot to do with it.
We tried to stay friends but you wanted me all to yourself and I wasn’t prepared to give that, so we parted ways, none too amicably either.
For a while, you were my only (big) regret but now I’ve given up on that-I’d rather think that everything that’s happened in the past has helped to make me who I am today. At the time, I needed it, because it paved the way for what was to happen next. 

And you'll just have to wait until tomorrow to find out what that was, sorry.

-Jenni-