Scott

Shortly after my return from Europe in 2004 I started working at a retail store the summer before starting college.  I intended on keeping the job part time while going to school, but I ended up working and going to school full time.  It was an exciting summer for me, because my high school dance team coach asked me and a few other girls if we'd like to be on a collegiate dance team.  The team was a little difficult to get used to at first, we were now on the same team as girls that recently graduated from high school teams we had been competing against and everyone had an attitude at first: we were all stuck up girls who thought we were better than everyone else, it was a recipe for disaster.  Eventually we all got along and we ended up going to competitions against dance teams from other colleges, and we even kicked ass against my university's dance team.  Twice.  Life was good.

It was also an exciting summer because I met my next boyfriend, Scott.  Scott lived near Katie, the Assistant Manager at my store.  She talked about him a few times, and he was somewhat dating her roommate.  I finally met him when Katie called him to go to her house, get her tampons, and bring them to work for her.  I'm sure it was awkward for him to deliver her tampons.

Once Scott arrived at the store, I immediately thought he was cute, and a random shyness came over me.  For once in my life I didn't have something to say, it was a miracle.  Katie went to get something to eat, and Scott stayed and talked to me for a while.  He was my age and just got a job at the store just down the hall from us.  When Katie came back she sat down in the back room and ate and talked to Scott while I watched the front of the store.  On Scott's way out, he handed me a piece of paper with his phone number on it and told me to call him.  I smiled, said I would, and put it in my pocket.  While he was walking out of the store I realized I'd probably never have the guts to actually call him, so I quickly wrote down my phone number and ran out after him.

"I'm sorry," I said, "but to be completely honest, I'm never going to call you.  So here's my number if you ever feel like giving me a call."
"Well if you don't want to go out with me some time you can just say so," he replied.
"NO!  It's not that!  I just...won't call you," I said, attempting to laugh and never making eye contact.
"Alright then," he said laughing, "I'll call you."

Part of me didn't think he'd actually call, but he did a few days later and we talked on the phone for a while.  He kept visiting the store and eventually we actually went on a date.  Everything went so well and we made it exclusive, meanwhile Katie's roommate hated me, but I was under the impression that they weren't exclusively dating each other so I didn't feel bad.

Scott was an amazing boyfriend.  Every time we got into an argument it was quickly resolved, except toward the end.  I don't exactly remember what we were fighting about at the end of the relationship, but everything went downhill after we went on a vacation together, which is when we quickly realized we can't spend so much time together without going nuts.  After we got home, things quickly spiraled out of control with our arguments and we broke up.  To this day, that 10 month relationship was the longest I've ever been in.  I feel bad not dedicating more time to explaining our story, but I don't think there's much to explain.  At the time I thought I was in love, but my idea of what love is has changed since then and I wouldn't consider that the case now.

Around the time of our break up I had a lot of other things going on, so it seemed even more devastating since my whole life was changing.  Not only did we break up and I was heartbroken, but I also made the decision to quit the dance team.  Since we were chosen to be on the team based on high school performances, there were no try outs and we didn't have definitive start and end times to a season, so I couldn't finish out the season and decide not to try out again.  I had to actually quit, and I never quit anything before in my life.

That was also a tough decision to make, but practices started to be too much for me.  We were constantly experimenting and trying new leaps and turns, and in one competition the most embarrassing thing happened to me: I blew out my knee and fell in the middle of the performance (I had been dancing with a torn ACL for about four years at that point).  I literally had to crawl off to the side while strangers came and helped me up and walked me to another room to ice my knee.  I still had another performance later that day, so I rested as much as possible, tightened my knee brace, and went out for my second performance.  I was in excruciating pain the entire time and it was the longest two minutes of my life, but I made it through and shortly after I had to quit.  A year later, I finally had surgery to fix the problem.

I made a few changes in my life, it was time to stop being so depressed about the break up with Scott and my dancing life.  I started teaching ballet and tap to kids at my old dance school, and I was even able to perform in the year end recital.  That whole experience taught me patience, a virtue I hadn't yet perfected in my life.  I also had a new dream.  I was going to study abroad in Rome for a month in the summer and it was the best experience of my life.  Since then, I've gone to Italy every year and had the opportunity to travel to over 40 different cities and see a few other countries, too.  I also had a few Italian guys I met and kept in contact with, but only one really stood out, and after meeting him I forgot all about Scott...

Extreme workout week begins!

Enough reminiscing for now and back to present day...

When you think of a personal trainer you probably think of the hit TV show The Biggest Loser, where Bob and Jillian make people do what sometimes appears to be frightening things all in the name of weight loss.  That's not how my personal trainer is, even though sometimes one more set of squats with a 25lb weight, or anything for that matter, can be pretty terrifying.

Here's the situation: I joined a new gym and was referred to this trainer by a friend.  I walked into the gym and said I had an appointment with (insert male name here).  The man behind the counter scanned my card and said, "Oh!  You must be Emma!  I'm (name)!"  Oh. Hell. No.  I can't train with someone that looks this good!

It's very difficult to stand there and look at those muscles while struggling to lift a weight over my head for the 15th time, but I guess he expects me to be weak, right?  I'm working on restoring myself to my former glory, back when I still did ballet and was on dance teams, so I suppose it's not a bad thing that I have someone nice to look at while I try as hard as I can not to give up.

This week is extreme workout week.  I'm going to go running daily, because I really have no excuse not to.  Running helps me clear my mind, and I've got a lot of clearing to do since an ex recently sent me a text that has made it impossible for me to stop thinking about him (of course, I'd never tell him that).  That whole story will be coming in the next week or so, and maybe I'll finally get some clarity by writing it all out!

Europe 2004: Paris

The guys in Paris were nothing to brag about.  Don’t get me wrong, some of them were gorgeous, but Paris wasn’t what I was expecting.  I think my favorite memory of Paris was sitting in a café in Monmartre with one of the girls, she was sketching and I was writing.  It felt like we were recreating history, this is where famous artists and poets came for inspiration.  We were rudely interrupted by a group of guys asking if we’d like to learn how to French kiss.  Shut the front door!  They actually asked that!  We politely said we already knew how, and ignored them.  After taking a picture, of course.

The last night in Paris we were supposed to have dinner and then go to the Eiffel Tower to see the City of Lights from the top.  We were sharing a large room, and the four of us bought a few bottles of wine.  We sat in a circle, reminiscing about high school and how we were all from different groups and cliques, but here we were in Europe together.  After four girls consumed five bottles of some shitty red wine, one girl leaned over and just started throwing up.  We were obviously amateurs.  Once again, a chain reaction.  Our room was full of vomit and red vomit stained towels, and we were going to be late for dinner if we didn’t leave now.  We grabbed a bunch of plastic bags, dumped out the souvenirs, and headed for the subway.  Being drunk and figuring out the Paris metro is not a good idea.  We got lost (a common theme on that trip), ended up in what I can only imagine is a horrible neighborhood, full of strip clubs, porn stores, and middle aged, overweight hookers in fishnets winking at us.  I think I threw up everything I ate the whole trip in that street, but at least it got that group of dirty looking guys to leave us alone. 

We made it to dinner, all four of us still sick. We said we ate some bad cheese at lunch and no one believed us. 

Europe 2004: London

London was pretty much like a big shopping spree for us, and having gotten sick from some questionable curry, one of the girls puked on the top of a double decker bus, causing a chain reaction of puking American students and a stream of vomit running back and forth as the bus turned corners.  We got lost, took the subway, found the hotel, and called it a night.

The last night in London, we were all allowed to go to a disco.  Most of us got drunk, the teachers were all there, too.  We caught one ordering a beer, and demanded that she throw it away, or we each get a beer for every beer she drinks.  She obviously wanted that beer, and we were a group of 20 satisfied students.

That’s where I met Nigel.  Nigel and I danced for a while, we sat on some couch and talked, he asked me if America is really like all the movies.  I asked which movies, he said, “American Pie!”  I just laughed and said, “I don't think America is much different than this.”   He asked a bunch of questions about my life and we had a pretty normal conversation.

Out of nowhere, he lightly grabbed my chin and pulled me in for a kiss.  Having your teacher catch you making out with a guy in a dark corner at a disco is certainly no fun and pretty awkward.  But, in all honesty, I did a lot less than other people on that trip.  Next stop: Paris.

Europe 2004: Dublin

After I graduated from high school I went to Europe with my senior class.  It was chaperoned by teachers, and even though we were all 18 and able to legally drink in Europe, we weren't allowed to while on this trip.  However, drinking was an essential part of our free time.

When we were in Dublin, there was no way we could pass up the chance to sit in a pub and have a Guinness before we had to head back to the hotel for nightly room checks.  On a past high school trip to Washington D.C., the teacher put a little piece of masking tape on the door so it would break if it was opened and there was no way to cover up sneaking out.  The teachers on this trip didn't do that.  It seemed to be more like a just-don't-get-caught situation.

Our hotel in Dublin just so happened to be located next to a club, or disco, as my European friends would say.  We were in Dublin for three nights, and the first two nights we spent flirting with the bouncers when we'd go outside and smoke (because that was allowed for some reason).  The third night, the bouncers offered to let us into the club for free.  We went to our room, put on our pajamas and waited for the room check.  About an hour after that, we were up and doing our hair and makeup and changing into club appropriate clothes.

We slowly opened the door to our room and took a peek, the hall was clear.  We carried our shoes so they wouldn't make the click-clack noise on the floor and made our way to the lobby.  There was a receptionist there 24 hours, so we just had to nonchalantly walk out and hope she didn't notice we were part of the school group.  We figured it'd be easy, after all, we didn't have any personal interaction with her.  We walked out the front door of the hotel and put our shoes on.  The bouncers smiled at us and we were escorted to the VIP (sweet!!!).

We had a few drinks, and I wasn't a big drinker at this time so I was pretty drunk (OK, I'll admit that I drink more frequently now and I still don't have a tolerance to brag about).  We were dancing, laughing, and smiling at guys everywhere.  One group came over, there were five of them and four of us, they asked if they could buy us some drinks.  We consented, and they came back with a tray full of a shot called Coco Mojo, I don't know what was in it, but it was good.  I had three of them.  I danced and made out with some guy that was really hot, and then I decided it was a successful night and time to go back to the room.

Two of the girls weren't interested in going back, so two of us left and two stayed.  We only brought one key, so we said we'd just go back, take showers, and wait for them to come back and lightly knock on the door.  We silently maneuvered through the hallways, stumbling a little even without our shoes on.  As soon as we arrived back in the room we started laughing and comparing notes from the night.

By time the other girls got back we were pretty tired and I'm not sure what exactly happened, but the receptionist took notice and told one of the chaperones they were out drinking.  The threat was if we got caught drinking we'd have to spend the rest of the trip with a chaperone...including sharing a room with one.  They only enforced that for one night for these two girls, so it wasn't so bad and we had our roomies and party partners back once we got to London.

Erik: Part 2

I felt more of a friendly attachment to Erik.  I invested so much time into helping him that I never realized he was growing attached to me in a different way.  Eventually, it would be time to move the relationship farther along, if you know what I mean.  I wasn’t concerned, we didn’t have a ton of opportunity for it anyway.

I obviously wasn’t making him happy.  I think he had the maturity level of a teenage girl, which is why he dated another girl that was only 18-years-old, while he was dating me.  I guess on a day off from work, if I was in school, he’d be out with this other girl.  He’d also be having sex with her.

One night, he got wasted at a bar and made out with a girl his own age.  I was pissed, but I let it go because he was drunk.  Another night, he got wasted and stumbled over to the other girl’s apartment, where he had sex with her and cried and told me the next night in the parking lot of the diner when my friend and I were leaving to go home.  Like I said, I didn’t have much more than friendly feelings for him, but either way, we were close.  I couldn’t imagine why he would want to hurt me, even after he told me he was in love with me (I’m laughing just thinking about it).  It didn’t make sense.  He asked if I still cared about him, and I said, “I don’t know, I guess I can’t just stop caring about someone, but I don’t even want to look at you right now.  We’re done, never talk to me again,” as I started to walk away.  He grabbed my wrist and said, “No, don’t do this, give me another chance.”

“Give you another chance?  Another chance to f*** it all up again?  This is isn’t the first time you’ve fooled around behind my back, I’m not giving you another chance.  If there’s so many better girls out there, go ahead and f*** them all, I have better things to do with my time than deal with this, you make me sick.”
“Please, Emma, don’t do this, I’m sorry, I’m really, really sorry.”
“Maybe you should have thought about how sorry you’d be before you did it.”
“Just kiss me and you’ll see that I only want you!”
“Kiss you?  You expect me to kiss you?  Are you f***ing kidding me?  Honestly, all I want to do is punch you in the face!”
“Do it, then.  I deserve it.”
“No, I’m not going to actually do it, I’m just saying that’s how much I hate you right now.”
“So punch me then!”
“No!”
“I deserve it!” And without any more thought, I made a fist with my right hand and swung at his left eye, throwing all my weight into it.  It hurt me a little, so I shook out my hand and said, “Good bye, Erik,” and he yelled, “You f***ing b***h!  I can’t believe you did that!  You don’t hit the ones you love!”
“Exactly!” I yelled before slamming my car door shut and driving away.  My friend and I laughed the entire way home.  Ok, I'll admit it, I did cry a little bit because my feelings were hurt. 

On paper, he did most things right.  He said sweet things, he never forced situations, he randomly bought me flowers, we rarely argued (unless he was cheating on me), and I felt so much progress was being made with his studies.  I felt like I was making a difference in someone’s life.  I encouraged him to get his GED, which I found out he did not long after we broke up.  

As much as it hurt that he would hurt my feelings by cheating on me, I was really happy he did that.  It gave me a legitimate reason to break up with him and move on, and it was a reason that he couldn’t ever come up with a valid argument for.  He would have broken up with me if I did the same thing.  However, the difference between us is that even though I didn’t want to stay in the relationship but was too scared to come up with a bogus reason to end it, I still would have never, ever cheated on him.

Happenings at Your Local Grocery Store

I had a high school job at a grocery store.  I had the exciting duty of bagging up all your groceries after the cashier scanned them.  I never understood why I wasn't good enough to push UPCs across some red beams, but I dealt with it.

Typically, the baggers would just move back and forth between registers with long lines.  Sometimes, if a cashier noticed his or her line was getting really long, they'd call over for help.  Well, out of all four baggers working this day, I was called over to another register.  I got there only to find an elderly couple and one lady behind them.  I didn't think anything of it, the elderly couple had a lot of stuff so maybe that was why this guy called me to his register.

I had talked with this guy before.  The store was short on lockers for employees so he gave me the combination to his in case I wanted to put my purse in it.  Now, being 25, I would probably not do that.  however, at age 17 I didn't really care since the contents of my purse was makeup.  I always put any cash and my driver's license in my pocket while I was working.

So, this guy kept scanning things and sending them my way to be bagged.  I picked up a carton of ice cream and it had a piece of paper on top of it, I picked it off and was about to give it to the man or woman in the couple, but it was written with a black sharpie so I couldn't help reading it.

You're hot.  What's your number?

Whoa.  Did this old man send me this note on top of his mint chocolate chip ice cream?  I just stared at it for a while, while the cashier stared at me.  Finally, I looked up and understood the note was from him.  I didn't really like the cheesy way he went about this, so I crumpled up the note and threw it at his head and said, "Oops!  Sorry!"

He never called me over to his register again.  Oh well.

Erik: Part 1

When we started our senior year, my friend Stephanie and I would always go to the same diner and do our homework or study, eat an after school snack, and smoke cigarettes.  There were other students there doing the same thing, and even though we weren’t 18 no one ever asked any questions.  We went to the same grade school, but different high schools, which enabled us to make friends from both schools since this diner was a central location for either school.

It just happened that we both had a half day on the same day, so we were at the diner earlier than usual.  It was a nice, sunny day out, so most of our friends decided to spend the time outside.  However, we were bookworms and quizzing each other in our different classes or talking about photography.  It was really nice to be in similar classes as someone from a different school; we were able to explain things in different ways to each other and it was a big help on our tests.

Since we were at the diner earlier than usual, we were the only ones there other than this one guy eating and drinking coffee.  Honestly, I didn’t notice him until he kept staring at me.  He was in the booth behind Stephanie, and sitting on the side opposite me, so eye contact was always possible.  I locked eyes with him a few times as he was staring at me, and I lost concentration on my studying.

“Please stop staring,” I said out of nowhere, confusing Stephanie.  She turned around, saw him, and laughed.
“I’m sorry, I can’t help looking at beautiful things,” he said.

I made a disgusted noise, shook my head, and focused on Psychology.  He kept smiling at me, so I said, “Dude, you’re being really f***ing creepy,” while Stephanie kept laughing.  He laughed, and said, “I can’t help but smile because I know one day you’ll be with me.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said, one day, you’re gonna be my girl.”
“I really doubt that.  You look like you’re 30.”
“Aw, that’s harsh, I’m 22.  You don’t like older guys?”
“I don’t like creepy older guys.”
“I’m not creepy, I’m confident.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
“See, you don’t realize it, but you’re flirting with me and leading me on, you think you’re being mean.”
“I don’t think I’m being mean, I could say a lot worse.”
“Anyway, let me guess, you’re 18 and waiting to finish high school?”
“Too bad for you, I’m only 17,” I said, thinking this would shut him up.
“That’s fine.  I can wait.”
“OK buddy, you do that,” I said, trying to focus again on studying.

He stood up, walked over to me and said, “I really wish you’d consider going on a date with me.”
“You do realize that I’m 17 and I live with parents who would probably keep me locked in the house forever if I came home and said I was going on a date with a 22-year-old.  I’m not willing to waste my freedom on some creepy a** guy that wastes his day in a diner hitting on teenage girls.  Move along."
“So don’t tell your parents.”
“Did you not hear me?  I’M NOT INTERESTED!  You’re not my type and you’re too old.  I can’t relate to your lifestyle, and I don’t want to.”
“I know you’re going to change your mind,” he said as he grabbed my hand, kissed it, and walked away.

“Ew,” was all I could say.

Stephanie kept laughing, and a few weeks later, I was dating a 22-year-old guy named Erik, who I tried to help dress better.  He never finished school, in fact, I don’t know what the last grade he accomplished was.  We’d work on long division and multiplication.  I helped him with some reading.  I bought him food when he was unemployed, and I dumped him every time he got too wasted.

It’s really hard to describe why I stayed in this relationship for as many months as I did.  I can honestly say, looking back, I never felt an attachment to him where I’d envision us spending the rest of our lives together and getting married.  Somehow, I managed to form a connection and I felt like I was truly needed by someone.  Of course we had great times together, but the relationship eventually turned into me trying to help him be the best he could in every way.  A few years ago, someone I know ran into him and it sounds like he’s being very productive in his life and is really on a great path.  I’m really, truly happy for him.  This was just another situation where two people from completely different worlds got into a relationship and it didn’t work out.  However, our differences weren’t the only reason we didn’t work out…

Jordan

Jordan and I met my freshman year of high school when he was a sophomore.  We met through a mutual friend, Sarah, who went to grade school with him.  I had a teeny, tiny crush on him the first day we met.  I’ll admit it.  

We would talk whenever we were in the cafeteria at the same time, we’d hang out after school or at basketball games after I was done performing with the dance team at half time, and finally, when I was a junior and he was a senior, we had a class together.  

He sat in front of me, and this guy Dave (also a senior) sat behind me.  Dave would always think he’d be whispering things to me, when really everyone around him could hear.  He’d say some really dirty things he wanted to do with me after school, and I either just sat there and laughed at him or turned around and said, “Seriously, shut the f**k up!”

One Thursday Dave kept telling me he and a few friends were going camping and he’d love it if I would come too.  It’d be the best first date ever.  I said, “I really don’t think you’re interested in actually dating me.”  He kept telling me that I was too special to just use for sex, and I kept laughing at him.  He said camping would be amazing, they’d bring a ton of alcohol and we could have our own tent and separate sleeping bags, so I didn’t have to worry about anything like that.  Meanwhile, Jordan would constantly hear these conversations and shake his head.  I always said no to whatever Dave offered.  Part of me really did want to at least make out with him, but I knew I’d be just another girl to him, so I never did.   

One night, after a basketball game I was hanging out with Stephanie, Jordan, and this guy Mike.  We had been just talking and walking around the football field.  When we were headed back to our cars, Jordan mentioned something about running and hurdling over this picket fence that was a little higher than his waist (Jordan is about six feet tall).  I said there was no way he would be able to do it without falling because he has two bad knees from playing hockey.  We made a bet.  If he fell, I got $10.  If he made it successfully, I had to flash him and Mike.  We shook on it.  I lost.  I had to flash them.

By this time, I had a huge crush on Jordan.  We were becoming closer friends and I liked being close with him.  He was really cute, tall, played hockey, went hunting, dressed nice, he was a real guy’s guy, if you will.  I said, “Wait, I really have to flash both of you?  Can’t one of you just describe it to the other?”
“You don’t have to like, stand there with your shirt up, just for a few seconds,” said Mike.
“Yeah, but to both of you for a few seconds?”
“Why did you agree to the bet then?” Mike asked.
“Why does anybody agree to a bet?  I was confident I’d win and wouldn’t have to do this,” I nervously replied.
“It’s nice to know you have no faith in my jumping skills.  But, since I’m such a nice guy, I won’t make you flash us,” Jordan said.
“I’m not scared to or anything,” I lied, “I’m just a little shy I guess.”
“Just show us one!” Mike said.  

I conceded and I showed them only one boob, the right one to be exact. 

After Jordan graduated he went to college in town and got an apartment with two of his close friends.  Stephanie and I went over to the apartment to hang out with them sometimes, they always had beer.  One night, I made out with Jordan’s good friend while he made out with Stephanie.  I was a little hurt that he chose her to make out with, but I guess he could have said the same thing, right?

That was the last time I saw Jordan.  We kept in contact talking and texting, but his girlfriend-turned-fiancé somehow prevented us from hanging out.  So all we had were the times he was at the fire station (yep, he was a firefighter, how hot is that?) and able to talk to me.  We’d go a few weeks or a month without talking, and then catch up in one, long phone conversation lasting hours.

Maybe I’d forget about him sometimes during those few weeks, but every time my phone rang and his name popped up my heart started pounding.  Not necessarily because of the feelings I had for him, but I was so excited to have my friend back, even if it was only for a night.

Tommy & Winter Formal

Like I said in my last post, sophomore year of high school I was sitting behind Tommy, my new crush, in our US History class.  Sometimes we’d talk and make jokes, and it was fun laughing with him.  Winter Formal was coming up, and it was the dance where girls had to ask guys for the dates.  I didn’t ask anyone the previous year because I was too scared.  I didn’t even really ask Tommy.

I heard that he wanted to ask me to Homecoming, but supposedly he was too nervous because I kept hanging out with Jordan and his friends, all a year older than us.  I never knew how accurate that was, since it came to me through the high school grapevine.  

He must have gotten some courage because before our class, a few weeks before the Winter Formal, he arrived a little after I did.  I was sitting in my desk putting the finishing touches on my Geometry homework due later that day, and he said, “Geometry.  I hate that class.”
“Me too, but we can’t get out of it.”
“I didn’t like History, either.”
“I see,” I said laughing, “is there any class you like?  Biology maybe?”
“Nah, Biology is boring.  But I said I didn’t like history, I do now.”
“Oh, why’s that?”
“Because I get to see a pretty girl every day,” he said smiling.
“Oh,” I returned the smile and said, “Angela?  I didn’t think she was your type.”
“No!  I meant you!”
“Well, thanks,” I said, and my face felt hot so I must have been blushing.
“I think you like me, too.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“I think you do, one of your friends told me, and I think you want to ask me to Winter Formal.”
“Oh wow, I don’t remember telling anyone things like that.  I don’t know about asking you to Winter Formal.”
“Well, if you decide to ask, I’d be honored to be your date.”
“You’re so cheesy!  Who talks like that?”
“I’m just saying.  It’d be fun.”

After class I said, “So, you’re my date then, right?”  He confirmed and we went to the dance a few weeks later. 

Nothing noteworthy, other than dancing, happened at the dance.  Since it was sophomore year and not too many people could drive yet, we still had to have parents pick us up.  Limos were for prom, your parents were for every other dance.  He never kissed me goodnight, and after the semester was over, he changed schools and we didn’t see each other for seven years, which is when we finally got our kiss goodnight.

My First Boyfriend

My first boyfriend’s name was Justin.  We were sophomores in high school, 15-years-old, and I don’t really know why we started dating.  I was taking an introductory photography class and he was also in photography, but at a different time in the day.  We met in the dark room once after school, where he complimented me on one of my developing pictures.

I was flattered, but I didn’t think anything of it.  I hung the picture to dry and started working on another one.  I wasn’t good at multi-tasking in the dark room yet, and I was always nervous about pictures turning out right, so at that point I would only work on one at a time (I later ended up taking the advanced photography class, where multi-tasking became my specialty, thank you very much). 

Anyway, Justin was cute, and another day in the dark room he said, “So, you’re on the dance team aren’t you?”
“Yep,” I replied with a smile.  I loved being on the dance team, because dancing was, and still is, my favorite thing.
“So, since you’re on the dance team, I take it you’d never go out with a guy like me.”
“And what kind of guy are you?”
“I don’t know.  Just seems like I’m not your type.”
“Well, I don’t really know you very well, so I don’t know if you’re my type or not," I said, trying not to smile at how witty I thought I was being.

Truth is, I didn’t really have a type, so I had no idea if he was it or not.  We went for a walk after my pictures were all hung to dry, smoked some cigarettes, and talked.  We decided he could be my type and I could be his, even though the high school social divide was there.  Not many girls on the dance team would date guys with jet black mohawks, and vice-versa.  Justin asked me out while we were smoking cigarettes on the bleachers and holding hands.

We dated for three weeks.  It was a friendly and mutual break up.  We both liked other people, it wasn’t dramatic because we didn’t really fool around very much so there was no heartbreak over sex, and one day he intended to talk to me about the situation, I just brought it up first.

“Do you think this is going to be a long-term kind of thing?” I asked.
“I don’t know, why?”
“Well, I was just thinking about it, and we seem to be more like friends than a couple, and I’m fine with that, but if that’s the case maybe we should just be friends.”
“That’s fine with me, I was thinking the same thing.”

We hugged, kissed, and I closed my locker and went to class.  We managed to do all this within the four minutes you’re allowed between classes, and I walked in and took my assigned seat behind my new crush: Tommy.

I had later told my friend, Jordan (you’ll hear more about him later), about Justin and I.  He asked if I liked someone new, and I said yes but wouldn’t tell him who it was.  I know he’d make fun of me, no matter who it was.

Justin and I remained friends until he went to a different school and we lost contact.  At an event where student bands perform original songs, I saw him again.  That time, we were both seniors and I had just broken up with another boyfriend.  He didn’t have the mohawk anymore, but he was still a punk rock guy.  We hugged and briefly caught up.  I realized he was drunk.  He asked if he could talk to me privately, I said sure, and we ended up in the guys’ bathroom.

He pulled me into a stall with him and locked it behind me.  It all happened so fast that I didn't realize what his intentions probably were.  He said, “I’ve missed you,” and started kissing my neck.  I said, “Justin, stop, you’re drunk.”
“That doesn’t mean I haven’t missed you.”
“We dated for like three weeks almost two years ago, that doesn’t make sense.”
“Let’s just have fun,” he said, and started kissing me as I was lightly pushing him away.
“Let’s not do anything we’ll regret,” I said, not knowing what else to say.
“Trust me, I won’t regret this,” he said, smiling and pulling at my shirt.

OK, this just got 10 times more uncomfortable.  I kept trying to reach behind me and unlock the door, because if I could just do that, I could push him really quick and get out.  I had enough gossip flying around about me (some things I wish were true, some I wish weren't true, but I'll probably never tell which is which!), the last thing I needed was to have someone walk in the bathroom and think I was in the stall doing it with someone.

I heard the door open and someone walked in and must have heard us arguing.  The person asked, “Is everything OK in there?"

"Oh!  Jordan!  Is that you?"
“Emma?”

I quickly unlocked the door, somehow, with two people and a toilet shoved into a stall I managed to open it with lightning speed, and started fixing my shirt and said, “Jordan, please trust me, it’s really not what it looks like.”
“You don’t have to answer to me,” Jordan said.  He was a year older and already graduated, but he had a few friends still in these student bands so he came to support them.
“Well, I don’t want you to think I’m slutty or something,” I said, because that’s the last thing I needed.
“Don’t worry about it, kid,” he said as he put his arm around me and we walked out, leaving Justin drunk and confused.  I later heard he puked and got kicked out of the event.  That was the last time I ever talked to Justin, and about the millionth time Jordan had rescued me from an uncomfortable situation.

My First Kiss

I think every little girl watches movies and imagines Prince Charming coming along and kissing her at the end, and then something magical happens: some sort of spell is broken.  So, even though I was 14-years-old and too old for fairy tales, I still expected some sort of magic when I got my first kiss.  I was wrong.

There were a few of us playing basketball one day after school.  The school year was almost over, and we were graduating from 8^th grade and moving on to high school.  There was the basketball court, and then a small playground next to it.  Since it was the end of Spring/beginning of Summer, we were all in shorts and t-shirts.  I sat down in the wood chips and Kevin sat down next to me and said, “Good game,” I replied, “Thanks, but my defense was kinda clumsy.”  That was my way of subtly apologizing for accidentally punching him in the stomach when I lunged forward to steal the ball from him.  He just laughed, and I knew he accepted my apology.

The other three were Josh, Grace, and Joey.  Josh was sitting at the top of the slide and Grace and Joey were nearby on the swings.  Someone suggested we play Truth or Dare.  Of course, everyone was too scared to pick a dare, so we went around telling truths, like who we had crushes on and things like that.  However, picking truth scared me more than anything they could make me to in a dare.  I mean, what would they possibly have me do?  Ring someone’s doorbell and run away?  I ran pretty fast, so I didn’t care.

Finally, Grace asked, “Emma, truth or dare?”
“Dare,” I replied.  All the boys gasped and Grace had a mischievous look on her face.
“Dare, huh?” she said, “Alright.  I dare you to make out with…Kevin.  For 10 seconds.”  Grace knew I had a crush on Kevin, even though I never actually told her.
“OK, fine,” I said, trying to act like it wasn’t a big deal.  I never expected my first kiss to be on a dare.  But, I chose it and now I had to live with it.

Kevin smiled at me and moved closer and I whispered, “I’ve never made out with anyone before.”
“I know,” he whispered back, “but it’s just me, you don’t have to be nervous.”
“But what if I’m bad at it?  I don’t really know what I’m doing.”
“It’s like thumb wars, but with our tongues.  Just follow along with what I do.”

According to an 8^th grader, Kevin was experienced.  He had kissed a few girls at school, and there were rumors he touched some boobs, but I have no idea if that was ever true.  Even though we were really good friends and hung out all the time, I never thought to ask him because it wasn’t my business.

Kevin leaned in, I closed my eyes, and our lips touched.  Our mouths opened and he stuck his tongue in my mouth and I just followed whatever he did, like he said.  As soon as we started, everyone else began counting down from 10.  I didn’t think kissing was a big deal, but as I got the hang of it, it kept getting better.  At some point, everything around me became fuzzy.  The voices of the other kids counting was nonexistent, I had no sense of time, place, or anything.  I lost track of the countdown, and he must have too.

We kept kissing and finally I turned my focus back to our friends, they were all giggling and laughing.  I realized we must have gone longer than 10 seconds, and I abruptly ended the kiss by pulling away and starting to pick wood chips off my legs.  Joey said, “It looks like they’re in looooove!” and I still remember my cheeks getting hot and turning red, I was embarrassed and said, “Oh shut up, it was just a dare!” and Kevin smiled at me.  He must have known that had I picked truth, I would have been forced to say I had a crush on him. 

That was my first kiss, not super special, there were no "fireworks," but it was special enough to remember so vividly.  Sure, he wasn’t necessarily Prince Charming, I wasn’t under some spell that he broke, and years later we would encounter each other in a similar way…and it didn’t turn out well.  I haven’t talked to him in years, and even though we ended a friendship on not so good terms, I still remember him fondly and will never, ever forget my first kiss.

Introduction

Yesterday was my 25th birthday.  At first, I felt pretty intimidated by this.  When I graduated from college in 2008 I saw my life being in a completely different place by now.  i imagined I'd be in a career, a "big girl job," if you will.  Instead, I'm the assistant manager at a retail store.  Don't get me wrong, I do love and enjoy my job (most days), but I expected to be doing bigger things.

I've done a lot so far, I did study abroad programs, completed an internship in Italy, I've been to 9 different countries, and I've traveled a little here in the USA.  I have a lot of goals and big dreams, and I intend on achieving them all, or at least trying everything I can to get there...because if I don't at least try my hardest, what's the point in dreaming at all?

I also expected to maybe have a steady boyfriend by now.  I've never been in a relationship that has lasted a full year, and a lot of times I think I never will.  I've never actually been in love.  Aside from what I see on TV, in movies, or read in books, I have no idea what that's even like.  In college I had a lot of fun, but after that I expected to settle down and find a guy I could seriously see a future with.  I have definitely had my heart broken, which I don't quite understand since I've never been in love.

So what's wrong with me?  I don't know, but I have a feeling it has a lot to do with the guys I choose to date.  I decided to blog about it to help me figure it all out, and I'll start with telling the stories of all my relationships, or other male encounters, starting with my first kiss.  I'll also throw in things from my every day life, along with family, friendships, work stuff, etc.

Feel free to comment and share this blog with your friends; maybe my weird stories will help someone out, or maybe you can give me some advice!