WHAT'S NEXT?!?!?

OKAY. THE PROOF IS IN. MY LIFE TURNS INTO MY STORIES. IT'S A FACT.

So, that rewrite was a situation where Chase and Kris are sitting outside behind the school. Chase is talking about constellations and physics--like always and Kris is listening diligently. Eventually, Kris jumps him, they have sex in the parking lot, fall asleep in her car. And live happily ever after. Eh. Kinda.

Today, I found myself behind Sacred Heart School (the private Catholic school behind my church) lying on the grass with my boyfriend. Him talking about constellations, me listening diligently. Granted, it didn't end in sex, but it was STILL a little FREAKY. Don't you think? Subtract the sex and it was the same situation!

Before all of this action went down, we were running around the Sacred Heart playground--swinging on the swings, climbing the monkey bars, all that jazz. And while on the swings, I learned about the game Indiana Jones, where while swinging a person runs in between the people the swinging, timing it perfectly of course, and runs back. It was terrifying. And then Mary and I got married and divorced twice. It was a bizarre day.

Yup. I'm home. I am still a chicken. D:

You know, I always leave to go to the river for a week. Every year. And when I come back, it always feels like I never left. Everything is always exactly the same. The beach is still the beach, my room is still my room, my dog Lily is still my dog Lily and I am--still--a fucking chicken.

Not just a chicken--a fucking chicken.

I get myself all excited. All ready. I'm going to plan it out. (Because the only way to sabotage someone who plans everything is planning everything yourself.) I'm going to wear my best jeans and something low-cut and my hair down--blow-dried and straightened. I'm going to do my makeup and wear wedges and then, GUESS WHO'S STANDING IN MY DOOR?

It's eleven. I just got home. I haven't showered. I smell like fish. My name is Kellsey.

FML.

Once again, I use Lizzie McGuire as the epitome of teenage angst and melodramatics and I don't mean to be like that. BUT HE CAN'T JUST TAKE ME BY SURPRISE LIKE THAT. I was supposed to be ready. I need to crack that shell, like a walnut and I can't do that when he's just popping into my house, with the smile and the eyes.

By he I mean David. I figured you knew that by this point.

And then my mind just kept screaming at me. Yelling. Obscenities were trailing through my head. "Just do it. Don't be stupid." But guess what I did? NOTHING. EXACTLY. And because of that I'm going to the SPCA to buy twenty cats and live alone for the rest of my life in complete solitude where no one can disturb me. I don't need men. I could sit around with my cat Mimi all day and get pretty much the same reaction that I get out of most guys. Sure the last one was gay, but I'm still counting it. Where's the tension? The passion? The excitement?

I don't want my reaction to come off as disappointment in him--he's fine. He came and surprised me, he was being SWEET. But, but--I just had a plan. Big plans. But I just did NOTHING. Because when he catches me off guard, I'm useless. I'm one of those women, the kind whose brain leaves the room when a man walks in. I'm that girl. The absent-minded one. Something needs to change and it's needs to change NOW. The countdown is on--fourteen days until college. If I don't kick it up by then I'm doomed.



I'm such a fucking chicken. WHY DIDN'T I JUST DO IT?

Dear St. Lawrence River, it would be pleasing to me if you would keep your fish out of my grill. Thanks bunches. :DD

Okay, so posting that story that re-wrote is probably a terrible idea. I'm still deciding. It's just a little...questionable. However, I absolutely adore it. :DDD If I couldn't write this ideas out on paper, I have absolutely no clue what I would do with myself.

Secondly, yesterday I fell out of a kayak. Just thought I'd share that. I've been kayaking since I was a small child, but apparently God decided it was time for a little wake-up call. Therefore, while trying to manuever myself into my purple kayak, I lost balance and consquently flipped. However, I'm terrified of fish, so this was probably the worst possible thing that could happen. My father kept saying, "Swim over here! Swim over here!" But HELL NO. I was NOT swimming anywhere, those damn fish were all up in my grill. The water was probably about four feet deep, so I could have stood up, but I just rolled there in the kayak like I was drowning until my father could reach his hand out far enough to grab mine and pull me up onto the dock. Meh. I still went kayak fishing after that. Without changing.

Like I said, grin and bear it. I'm not wasting my time on feeling bad for myself. Funny things happen to me--what are ya gonna do?

Ahem.

So.

After kayak-fishing I climbed halfway across the Thousand Islands Bridge with my familia. I couldn't help but be a little fixed on the spiders that had manifested themselves through the bridge cables. Those little things were EVERYWHERE. It was upsetting. The view was wonderful though. Except whenever an eighteen wheeler would go by, the whole bridge would shake like it was about to collapse. That part I didn't find so hot.

And then, I colored and did a puzzle with my family. My mother kept hogging all the pieces. She had twenty or so of them that she had called her own. She's a freak.

FINALLY, until two in the morning, I watched the Kardashians and then HP with Caroline and Katie. We watched the Prisoner of Azkaban. My sister was blown away to hear that the line that I tend to recite a lot was in this movie. Every time anyone asks me a question and I don't know the answer, I say, "That's the question isn't it! He's the first one who done it!"

Yeah. That's from the Prisoner of Azkaban. I need to stop being so lame.

HOW AM I EVER GOING TO MAKE FRIENDS IN COLLEGE?!?!

Hey God! I got the message! Teenagers are stupid. :DDD

So--question. Why is it that any child between the ages of thirteen and fifteen is completely useless? They're like dark holes that just suck the happiness out of everyone around them. It's like--I get it, you're bored and you can't go out with your friends. Stop taking it out on me.



My sister's friends suck. She's fourteen. One of them decided to turn on her today and I took her on. She told me to "pick on somebody my own size." Okay, fuck you Lizzie McGuire. Sure, you can't drive, your parents won't let you go to a boy-girl party. Whatever. Why don't you go trip over a peculiarly placed chair and knock over a boy with nineties hair and make a really huge deal about it? Okay?



Okay.



Woo. Okay. That freakout was a big 'un.



So drinking Snapple, fact of the day: "Franklin Roosevelt was related to five US presidents by blood and six by marriage." See. Didn't think you're learn something today, did you? "It's summer, I don't need to learn anything." Like whatever. Stop being stupid.

Today I was reading my old stories that I wrote back in middle school and I was alarmed by how my story characters advanced in personalities the same way my life did. When I was writing about Olivia and Shaun, which was any time between the years of sixth grade and tenth, Shaun was like Jake. Not purposely, but his character was just be similar to that of Jake's, who was my boyfriend at the time. And now I'm reading my stories that revolve around a neurotic girl by the name of Kristen and her nerdy boyfriend Chase.

Okay. This is just freaky.

Chase is David. Like down to the little details. Same appearance, same personality. I stopped writing that story back in the tenth grade as well. WTF? It's like God's trying to play a funny joke on me or something. Either way it was hilarious and because of that, I became inspired to re-write a scene from the beginning of the second addition to this series. I'm trying to decide if I want to post it as I write.

I can only assume from now on that every boy I create in my stories will some time come to life in my lifetime. Maybe I should create someone who's rich and famous. I'll marry Rupert Grint just like my dreams.

;]

"Blue eyes--you're the sweet to my mean." Oh look! More fun!

“I’M flying off the handle?!” Olivia hollered. In anger, Shaun thought that Olivia could rise three feet in size. “I’M FLYING OFF THE HANDLE?!? You show up in MY city. In MY café. In MY apartment and, what? I’m just supposed to be thrilled you’re here to screw everything up again?”

Like that. A stand still.

Shaun sighed. “I’m not trying to screw everything up.”

“Well, WHAT then!?” Olivia’s face flushed—she felt uncomfortably warm. Suddenly, she let a growl burst from her mouth. “Gosh, Shaun, it’s like you just think I wait here for you and I’m sure as hell trying to move on to SOMETHING.”

Shaun was speechless. “I wasn’t trying to encroach upon ‘your’ city,” he attempted to explain.

“Well, why’d you come then?” Olivia asked.

“Hailey wanted me to.”

“EXACTLY,” she screamed. “Hailey, YOUR GIRLFRIEND, wanted you to come, so why don’t you go spend some time with her?”

Shaun felt so unsatisfied, so wrong. “Hailey,” the name rang in his mind, “your girlfriend.” Two things he had NEVER hoped to hear together. He hadn’t wanted to date Hailey. He was twenty-one. He was supposed to be engaged to Olivia, planning a summer wedding, picking names for their children and falling asleep on the couch. It was like there were two realities. One where all was right and Olivia and Shaun were together. Getting married, having babies, growing old and the other where they weren’t. Floating. Yelling. Crying. Screaming. Because they couldn’t think of anything else to do. They were just passing time. Taking classes “they thought were interesting.” Preparing themselves to “start a career.” These were all level-headed decisions. Shaun and Olivia weren’t level-headed. They were all about thinking on the spot and, while it wasn’t the right decision for everyone, it was the right decision for them.

“Fuck,” Shaun swore. “I really wish that made less sense.”

Olivia stared at remote spot ahead of her. The hard-wood floors. “Would you just go already?”

He studied her movement. It was like watching a fucking science experiment.

“Shaun?”

“Yes?”

“Go see Hailey.”

He closed his eyes. “No.”

“Damn, why not?” Olivia asked. She dropped her arms. “Why won’t you leave me alone? Why won’t you give it UP? We gave it a try. We really gave it a try and it failed. It’s over.”

“No, it’s not,” Shaun said.

She sighed. “Why not?”

“Because anything that requires this level of drama is NOT over,” said Shaun. He took a few strides forward until he was directly in front of her, staring down into the reflection of her glassy green eyes. “I’m not here to make any life decisions. I don’t want to rush anything. I just want you to see that I’m thinking about you.”

“Well thanks for making things extra complicated, once again!” Olivia snarled. She walked over and took a seat on the lumpy couch—a distasteful beige. Shaun gulped and thought quickly. What was he trying to say? “I mean, honestly, do you believe any of the words that come from your mouth, or do you just say them anyway?”

Shaun stood, his arms swinging at his sides. “Well, I do believe them,” he said, “Mostly because they’re true.”

“Oh bullshit,” Olivia glared at him. “You don’t want to be with me anymore than Hailey. You’re just scared. Do me a favor—go sleep with your girlfriend and then see if you want to be with me. Might level out your hormones a bit.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Shaun ordered and walked over to her. “It took a lot of nerve for me to get off my ass and stop sulking and actually come over here and talk to you, so at least factor that in. Do you think this is easy? Do you think it’s easy for me to admit this all to you?”

Olivia cleared her throat. “You haven’t admitted anything to me.”

Shaun closed his eyes and rubbed his temple with his forefinger and thumb. “You’re a real pain in my ass, you know?”

Olivia positively ignited with anger, standing up from the couch. “THIS IS MY CITY!”

“THIS IS A FREE COUNTRY!”

“GO BACK TO MIAMI!”

“I SHOULD! There are lots of single, stupid women there who will just have sex with me!”

Olivia stomped over to him and shoved him backward. “WELL THEN DO IT!”

Shaun sighed. “I DON’T WANT TO JUST HAVE SEX WITH YOU!”

Olivia smiled. “Well, gee, thanks for the confidence booster.”

“Don’t take it that way,” Shaun said. He dropped his shoulders and rubbed his left eye. “I would love to have sex with you. Any time. Any day.”

She dropped her jaw. “Ew. Pig.”

“GOD, OLIVIA,” Shaun screamed. “LET’S JUST GET MARRIED. OKAY? MARRIED?”

Olivia furrowed her brow. “Yeah, OKAY.”

Shaun sighed and took a deep breath. “I’m not kidding.”

It didn’t seem possible, as Olivia quickly thought over this proposition, that the two realities could collide and make one seamless uncomplicated world. Olivia and Shaun—married, happy. This was something they both wanted, but it was just impossible. No one had ever annoyed Olivia as much as Shaun and no one had ever angered Shaun as much as Olivia. Just throw in a few well placed bruises and you had a case for domestic abuse. For both of them.

You can’t always get what you want.

“What do you mean you’re not kidding?” Olivia asked. “Of course you’re kidding. We can’t, we wouldn’t, it’s not that easy-,”

“I’m twenty-one and, last time I heard, you are too,” Shaun pointed out. Olivia pushed her lips together so tightly they nearly disappeared. “We can do whatever the fuck we want to do! We don’t need to over think our lives. Everything’s open to us. We can do this.”

Olivia sighed and rolled her eyes. Blue. So much damn blue.

“Shaun,” Olivia said, “I can’t just marry you.”

He dropped his shoulders. “Come on, just think about it.”

“I like Derek.”

“You love me.”

“I’m not having sex with you!”

“Good! I have a lifetime of it ahead of me! We’re gonna get married anyway!”

Olivia squinted at him and crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you insane?”

“Yes, a little,” Shaun admitted. “But if I were level-headed, I would never be happy.”

She paused in her insistent debate.

Shaun could practically hear a door open—Olivia was speechless. He would write about it in a diary when he arrived home. “Look, Olivia,” he said, “I know this is crazy. It’s always been crazy. But if you don’t marry me now, I don’t care how long it will take, but I will marry you. Anytime, anywhere, one day we will be married.”

“How do you know I’ll give in?” she asked calmly. Her green eyes glazed over.

Shaun shrugged. “Because I inadvertently found you in the largest city in Massachusetts,” he laughed. “The twentieth in the world.”

“Country,” she said.

“What?”

“You said twentieth in the world,” Olivia explained. “Boston is the twentieth largest city in the country.”

They both laughed awkwardly—Shaun with his hands in his pockets, standing, back straight and legs a shoulder-width apart and Olivia arms crossed and eyes glazed. Shaun looked up at her.

“Are you going to marry me, Olivia?”

“Shaun-,”

“I don’t have a ring,” Shaun said and shrugged. “But that’s because I’m twenty-one and poor.
It’s no excuse and I’ll get one, but I’m sorry if that makes me lame.”

Olivia sighed. “Shaun-,”

“Olivia,” he said, “I love you.”

“Shaun-,”

“But I love you.”

Olivia covered her face with her hands and then dropped her arms. “Okay, you need to go,” she decided, literally pushing him towards the door.

“But-,” Shaun stopped, “an answer?”

With Shaun standing a foot outside the door, Olivia sighed. “Goodbye Shaun.”

And she slammed the door.

"I want you and you and nothing but you, miles and piles of you." Okay, showtunes. Take a flying leap --TODAY.

You know when you hear songs that sum up...everything? Everything you're thinking about, everything you're worrying about, everything you love and hate and wish would love or hate you? Yeah. I'm that girl who hears Taylor Swift and wants to stab herself. Repeatedly. Who knew I this would be such a challenge? (That is, who--other than the entirety of every class my boyfriend has ever been in...ever, in his entire young life--knew?) I keep hearing, "You knew what you were getting yourself into." Okay, fuck off smart ass. The boy is eighteen--he can have a girlfriend.

But still--I find myself PACING. I had lines of boys. (Okay, maybe not lines, but a few.) None of them were particularly revolting or annoying or stupid. I liked them all. Sort of. I mean, I would have been happy with any of them, but I'm with David. And I love David. That sounds really super gay, but it's true. There it is. And the funny thing is, even though I had all these choices, I didn't want anyone else.

Now I'd like to feel like I'm the same way in his eyes.

But it's like, I keep hitting myself on the head over and over again. "STOP BEING A WHINY BITCH." But it's not working! I'm still whining. WTF? I'm still worrying! I'm still wondering. Can't I just believe the words of others? Why the hell can't I just LISTEN and BELIEVE him? I'm being really dumb. Okay, breathe Ginger. The boy likes you. Why can't you believe that?

And it's not because I'm insecure because I had plenty of choices. Boys falling all over me. And I like myself. I don't think I'm fat (even while I sit next to my ten-pound boyfriend.) I think I can write. I think I can sing. In fact, I know I can. So why in the world am I so difficult with this?

It's just so infuriating. Sometimes you just want that moment--you know? Even if it's totally unrealistic. Sometimes you just need a moment where you know, you can feel it, you can SEE it in actions and body movements that this is love. Legit. He doesn't want to be with anyone else and this proves it. But I don't get that because that's just his personality. Trust me, I don't blame him for anything.

Maybe it's just because I'm a writer. I mean if I wasn't so damn unrealistic about everything I probably wouldn't feel this way. I just want to be twenty-three, engaged, happy. That way I would know my life is going to work out. That way I would KNOW someone, somewhere is going to be with me. I know I'm just eighteen, but I got a real fear about being alone. And the funny thing is, if I had dated any of those other boys who had liked me--I would have just been dating them so I wasn't alone. But you know why I'm dating David?

Because I love him. Plain and simple.

Now if I could just find out if he feels that way too.

NO. NOT THE SHRIEKING SHACK. :O

So, we drove up to the river today. Eight long freaking hours in the cramped HHR. Wouldn't have been that back if the car wasn't so damn small. However, it was still a treat as always. My parents tried to tell us we were traveling up the bridge again after the small bend and Katie fell for it. "It's always better after dark," my mother said.

After the bridge it takes several turns and hills and leaps and bounds to get to my grandparents' house. I always look forward to the same things. The deer running across the road, the sun falling behind the rolling land across the river. However, I was disappointed to find one of my favorite attractions was missing.

A house--old, decrepit, a "no tresspassing" sign posted on the door and molding rotten wood falling off the walls. It wasn't even a comfort.

IT LOOKED JUST LIKE THE SHRIEKING SHACK.

And they tore it down.

LAME.

However, everything else sat exactly as I had left it last. Same flowers, same plants, weird smiley flag (that was new) and the smell of homemade spaghetti sauce drifting through the air.

The only thing that was really different was my grandparents' incredibly quirky cat. He "lives" at their house, but his mother comes to pick him up every so often and they disappear for, sometimes, days at a time. I saw him at the door and tried to let him in, but he only ran away, disappearing behind a bush that was just barely out of my reach. Plus, his angry mother sat in front of him and something's telling me I shouldn't cross her.

Having weird animals in the house only makes me feel more comfortable. But that's a story for a different day.

Haha. Home sweet home.

ROAD TRIP WITH THE FAM? HELL YES.

Remember that time when I was discussing how strange my family is? Yeah it's about to get a lot weirder. Tomorrow we embark on journey to the Thousand Islands territory (would be a territory?) of upstate New York to visit my grandparents, my mom's parents. It's basically my most favorite place in the world. Kayaking at dawn, fishing for pike at dusk, swimming (...haha, NOT) and drinking mimosas at breakfast! WOOT! However, to get to this wonderful ethereal place, one has to drive eight hours with my chaotic family.

This means a lot of things. Eighties music, hats, really bad "family" games and countless other things such as my parent's dueting to Kid Rock and Sheryl Crow's "Picture." Strange. And not just in that "I'm a teenager and I don't feel like doing anything with my family."

First of all, by hour three my sister and I both have the Ipods in so we don't realize it when the eighties music begins. This usually consists of bad solos sung by both my parents (mostly my mother) until Caroline and I come to realize what is actually going on.

Hat time is a wondrous time. It's been a part of my reality since I was really young. It's exactly as it sounds. Those who don't have hats are ridiculed for the rest of the ride. It's like one of those very strange traditions that no one questions anymore. When my sister decided to bring her friend Katie with her on this trip, she warned her and TOLD her to bring a hat for hat time. Katie didn't. Good luck Katie! :D

If one has played "Animal, vegetable, mineral" they know it's a game where one person thinks of an animal, vegetable...or mineral and the other person has to ask questions until he or she knows what the first person is thinking of. In my family we play our own version of the game called "Horse, donkey, mule." Think of a famous horse, donkey or mule and you're in. In the past few weeks we even expanded this game to "Horse, donkey, mule, z-donk (a cross between a zebra and donkey), unicorn, hippogriff (if you don't know what a hippogriff is, x out of this blog RIGHT NOW.)

Ahem.

My life.

So basically, drives with the fam are strange and slightly difficult, but extremely fun for most, if not all, hours of the trip.

The best is when we finally do arrive in the territory and have to cross the Thousand Islands Bridge--a large green bridge that connects us to Wellesley Island (where my grandparents live.) When we go, we cross the bridge and then have to loop around this little bend and for a split second, it looks like we might travel back up the bridge.

"OH! HERE WE GO! WE'RE GOING UP THE BRIDGE AGAIN!"

My father always, and I mean always, hollers.

Even when no one new is there.

:]

Eight hours with the fam? LET'S GO!

I'm thinking of a horse, donkey, mule, z-donk, unicorn or hippogriff. If you guessed Buckbeak, THEN YOU WIN! :D

Here's a little nostalgia for ya. Anyone who's known me since the sixth grade might laugh. :D

Olivia felt her heart fill up with a sense of familiar. This had happened, what? A dozen times before? But this time it felt different. Angrier, quicker. Impatient. It was like inside their timers were ringing. It was wrong, it was all so wrong. The lives they had both believed they would live so sincerely were gone. Their life. Gone. They had been warming up to this idea for ages, nothing forgotten, only buried. Now it all seemed caught up, they were supposed to be engaged, happy, wedding planning. Anxiously awaiting the time where they could have guilt-free sex (and guilt-free babies.). It was all wrong. So very wrong.

“What do you think I’m here for, Liv?” Shaun’s voice was deep, tired.

Olivia watched a remote spot ahead of her. “Hell if I know.”

“Come on,” Shaun coaxed. He stepped a little closer to her, until the tips of his boots were resting against her moccasins. He towered over her, the freckle-face of his childhood crush and the woman he was still wanted to marry. The woman he was supposed to marry. It had seemed destined since middle school. Or maybe that was just naivety. All things were possible.

He wanted to marry her.

But Olivia was difficult—so difficult. Even with all of Shaun’s skill.

He looked down at her and tapped the tip of her chin with his forefinger. She directed her glance up and took a deep breath. Always taken aback by the same things—one of which were the eyes. Blue. So much fucking blue. Olivia rolled her eyes.

Shaun’s pupils dilated, but Olivia only scowled up at him.

“What do you want, Shaun?” she asked and turned her face from him. It was such a complex feeling; she couldn’t even tell if it was love anymore. She wasn’t going to marry a man because she wanted to have sex with him, that seemed all too idiotic, but at the same time sounded like it would be fun, for the lack of a better word. That is for the minute and a half it would actually work. It was such an infuriating feeling, that one, she thought. That one when she was so sure, so convinced she would marry him. They were going to be twenty-two, their flowers would be daisies, the ceremony would take place at her church, in their town on the third of May. But now, everything was different.

And Olivia wasn’t so sure that she WASN’T okay with that. She liked Derek. He had red hair too, her mother had already set her heart on having beautiful red-haired freckly grandchildren, whereas the offspring of Olivia and Shaun would have been extremely English and extremely dark-haired, light skin, freckled nosed and, most importantly, blue-eyed.

Or else, that’s what Olivia always hoped. I mean, if she was going to let the dominant traits of Shaun Somebody take over the DNA of her future child, she at least hoped that would include his blue eyes.

And suddenly, she was insane again. Confused. Amorous. Angry. Extremely angry. She wanted to marry him. She always had. She didn’t want red-headed children all that much anyway. She wanted Shaun’s children, no matter what that meant.

She wanted his blue eyes. She didn’t want them to go away again. When they did she dreamt, literally dreamt of them and forgot about them in the morning when she woke up. Something always felt out of place, just very strange. And she always had a bittersweet feeling when she woke up. So calm, collected and pleasant, but at the same time unsatisfied. Like she couldn’t wait to fall back asleep again, even though she couldn’t remember what she had been dreaming about anyway.

“Olivia,” Shaun said, his voice indignant. “You know what I’m here for.”

Olivia bit her upper lip. “What do you want?” she asked and walked close to him again. “Do you want to sleep with me?” she shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe you just want to make things a little bit more complicated.”

He furrowed his brow and closed his eyes for a moment. She waited diligently for them to open again. “No,” he said tiredly. “How can you even believe that? You know me better than that. You know I’m not an asshole and you sure as hell know I’m not going to take advantage of you. When has that ever happened? When have I ever tried to just sleep with you?”

“Well, you certainly don’t want to be with me. You have a girlfriend.”

“You have a boyfriend!”

“And so, what are we talking about?”

Shaun stopped. “We’re talking about-,” he stopped and thought back. “Okay, stop this is crazy. We’re not even talking about anything. You’re just flying off the handle for nothing.”


[I WILL CONTINUE THIS MOMENTARILY WHEN MY INSPIRATION IS BACK. OR AFTER I GET SOME CAFFEINE INTO MY SYSTEM. :D]

WTF? ARE THERE ANY OTHER GAY GUYS IN THE WORLD TO DATE ME? AND/OR BECOME BEST FRIENDS WITH ME? ARE THERE?

Numero cuatro.



WHY IS EVERY BOY I MEET GAY?



No. Really. This is a dilemma.



It's such a dilemma that I would consider it as number four. NUMBER FOUR. ARE YOU SERIOUS? I mean, see, the real problem is that the ones who AREN'T gay, still...are. My boyfriend is. Let's be honest. I tried to explain to him one day, while walking to class after lunch, that it doesn't matter how many girls you have on your arms if you're singing showtunes. Just sayin'.



Yeah. Haha. NOT FUNNY.



And this isn't the first one. My first gay boyfriend was Robert. Didn't come out of the closet until after we started dating. Our relationship lasted a week, exactly. I remember, it was a Wednesday to a Wednesday. WTF? NOT COOL. However, I don't know why I was so surprised. He once told me he wasn't sure what his plans would be for the night because he didn't know if he wanted to, "Go to the cast party or see the Hannah Montana movie." I mean, let's be honest. I should have seen that one coming.



My mother warned me too. Again and again and again. However, she loved every minute of it. So many jokes came from this one-week relationship. I made her promise to stop making fun of us and then he broke up with me. Meh. Eff that.



"Kellsey, I think I'm falling in love with you." BULLSHIT. Bull. Shit.



And THEN, I started dating David "who is equally homosexual." (I put it in quotes because Mary is sitting next to me and being a BITCH and "DEMANDS recognition for her words.") :D I mean...he doesn't technically like boys...as far as we know, but he's still pretty gay.

Okay, if you just read that and you know me...

Don't let it be spread around.

AND WHY ARE THEY ALL SO DAMN SENSITIVE ABOUT THEIR MASCULINITY. If David read that he'd be pissed. So very angry. I KNOW YOU'RE NOT GAY.

When we first started dating I took to calling him "Gayvid" which I found to be very clever if I do say so myself, but David didn't really warm up to it and actually started getting angry and so I stopped.

I'm kind of a bitch. I guess. Like whatever.

And that doesn't even count all of my gay friends, just friends, who come out to me and tell me their secrets. And discuss their crushes. I remember the first one who came out of the closet to me. Well, I was the second person who heard. It was in the seventh grade.

And it was all downhill from there.

WTF? My mother actually suggested when she found out I was going to be a creative writing major in college that I take at least one engineering class. "You're not going to meet any heterosexual people, Kellsey." Those were the words of my MOTHER. SHE'S even worried. What? Am I going to get sucked into some homosexuality vortex? Am I going to become a lesbian? Will more boys lay out there souls for me? Ugh. Dear God.

No really. Dear God,

It would be cool if I could meet some heterosexual guys some time in the future. Or else. Well. My head might explode.

Much love,

Ginger Snaps. :D

(I called myself Ginger Snaps because I have red hair. Thought that might make things a little less confusing. No. Actually, it's probably still pretty weird. Whatever. I don't really care.)