I was fifteen when my boyfriend's aunt called the cops on my father. His family was tired of seeing me come over hysterical and ragged looking, sometimes with small cuts or bruises or marks coloring my body... They were tired of Justin racing from his house with every manic phone call at all hours of the night or in broad daylight to save me from the one place I was suppose to feel safe.
I thought that phone call had hit home... I thought the physical fights were finally going to stop, and I was excited to live a normal life... but the peace had lasted for nearly two weeks before yet another outbreak emerged, and I was quickly picked up by two of my girlfriends and my boyfriend.

Halfway through my second period class I was called to the guidance office. I sat in a room with two counselors who lectured me on my overt behavior.. how worried and upset my parents were that I never came home and how they called the school reporting me absent when they discovered that I was here... The counselors lectures let to an interrogation as they questioned me about using drugs and excessive drinking. I felt ripped apart...embarassed and hurt. I couldnt stop myself from crying...These people had this profound image that I was this rebellious teenager trying to make a statement, when all I was trying to do was escape. I didn' t want anyone to know what was happening or that I wasn't at home and now these strangers were exposing me...embarassing me, making me feel like I was a problem.

I nodded behind all my tears to their dry and dismantling lecturing.. I didn't care what they thought as long as I could leave that office. I didn't care what they said about me or thought about me as long as I could leave and no one else would find out.

That entire conference I hadn't said a word. I was completely mute..I couldn't speak...physically I was unable to utter a single word. That's how drained and cracked I was.

But that journal had done it all for me... It told every story I could never be able to say outloud, and it had the dates to prove I was not some rebellious teen juicing a wild, reckless imagination. That journal was the only person on my side but it proven to be the strongest defense in the world.

A women, who had my journal entries printed out and highlighted questioned me for nearly two hours. She was from DYFUS, and she had started my case.


It has been 5 years since that conference.

and for the first time in my entire life that I can remember I felt invincible.

Putting all those years behind me, I sometimes doubted the severity of my issues at home. If my life was so bad, how was I able to make so many friends? How was I able to excel in athletics and academics without anyone ever knowing (besides my bestfriends) what was happening to me, or where I was living? I started to blame myself for causing so many problems.. I started to believe everything my family had been saying to me...and I started to hate myself for being such a baby...so pathetic and weak.

Now I know my memory of my life was no exaggeration. I know the hate and the pain that I felt was real, and I wasn't even mad at Sam for lying... Strangely, with all this new information, I found a revelation in myself...and I am proud. I am strong and I made it. Not only did I make it, but I exceled in making it.

I broke boundaries, I pushed my limits...I carried this weight and bnurden and this doubt on my back the whole time, but somehow I managed to come out on the other end paitning the sky in colors.

Reading that memoir wsa very hard. It was admitting everything that I tried to ignore... it was reopening a closed wound, throwing everything I left blurred in my mind right back in front of my face and sharpening it.

She said, I'm sorry. And I read the memoir without crying, sitting on her small, twin dorm room bed.She smiled and I smiled, and I closed it and slipped it into my suitcase.

And that was all. That was it. And it's finally really over. And it will never have to be anything but a memory ever again.

I've only be alive for twenty years...
I can't even legally drink or gamble!

Then why do I feel so old?

Sometimes everything seems to be happening to me too fast... I'm losing too much time... wasting too much time. I'll get stressed out, with everything I'm caught up in, and the rush and hustle of life, then I'll take the time to relax... slow everything down... treat myself...stop to let the everything just catch up to me....

Therapeutic, you would think? But no... I regret it afterwards, like I'm taking my time on this earth for granted. Like, while I was fucking around in the shower, I could have been doing something, I could have been somewhere, saying something important or changing my life somehow...

Am I having a mid-life crisis ALREADY? How can this be happening?

Am I alone?

I wasn't anxious at all stepping into that box...

If ya hit, ya hit. If not, there's worst things you can do. You played your heart out. Get in there, and do something . Hands high.


Almost word for word what I said to myself swinging in the on deck circle..

Bases loaded. Look down to coach. No sign, step in the box. Everything looks clear. Take a cut, outside. Nice piece. Foul ball.

Coach makes some weird gesture about my swing. Step in the box, second pitch. Inside, I guess a strike, but a half-jab is all I muster my arms to commit to and it's another foul ball.

Step in, third pitch. My grips so tight, the ball moves like it's gonna hit me. I still don't think I made an attempt to swing. Hit me fat in the left forearm. Apparently, it's a strikeout...

Third out. We lose. Extra Innings. Down by two.

I tried my best to translate all my disappointment into anger, dug deep in my stomach and tried to start a fire, but it was too late. My eyes grew the size of tennis balls as I walked into the dugout, and the tears that had been hitting like ten-foot waves on rocks against my eyelids finally poured over. My nose burned, my heart hurt, my stomach was a fat, ballon of gas. In my throat a wad of spit and regrets rolled onto my heart, where it sat, weighing the rest of me down. The adrenaline ceased, the pain set in. The headache was stronger now than ever. My fingertips burned, my shoulders were heavy. I felt like I had nothing in the world, and everything was suppose to be mine. I felt like I lost someone's dog when I was suppose to be house sitting--- like I hit a toddler with my car who was crossing the street. I wanted to throw up-- I wanted to disappear.

Coach tried to calm me down after the game. Well, do her best I suppose, being that she is a coldless, worthless, son of a gun--- she made the effort.

The walk to the bus felt like it kept getting longer, but I took the time to create a new face, hide everything that  I wanted to let consume me.

I think I may have done a good job in fooling the team, in hiding how I was really feeling. The very least, they were at least questioning whether I was crying or not when I stepped on that bus. The interior lights were still on and everyone was still settling, so I took the time to undress and slip into my dry warmups... That wad in my throat kept tumbling up and down my pipes, but I managed to pack it down long enough...

Just as Lacey came back to our seats, as if Coach V had planned it, the lights flipped off, and with the engine already humming, we were on our way home. It was the most incredible timing I had ever witnessed, for as soon as those lights went dim, every tear I thought that I had conquered blasted through. Every emotion I thought I concealed, pumbled through my flesh and wrecked my face. My
 whole body was shaking, and heavy, and weak. The tears were relentless and burned on their exit. Lacey wrapped her arms around me without hesitating and kissed me. She said all the things that could be perfectly said, and kissed me in all the right places on my face. Every word, every touch, I felt a little lighter. She whispered every right saying, and said all the right sayings.. She moved her lips around my cheeks and forehead like she knew exactly what calmed me down--- like she had been doing this forever. She didn't care if the coaches saw us, and to be honest, at that point, neither did I. Yes-- that's right, me. I didn't care. She threw my legs over hers, and pressed my face into her chest-- she told me I was beautiful, which had absolutely nothing to do with anything, but it made everything feel alright. She used all the magic in the world, and even though now, I'm still squeezing the last of the tears out, she made everything seem to fit again.

That twenty minute bus ride felt like hours. My heart is still weighted down in my gut, but I'm ironically thankful for that strikeout in some way...

Because of that stupid strikeout.... I now know how I want to spend the rest of my life; and it's in her arms.
 

stay here....

*it'll either be really good, or really bad. if it is bad, could i handle it?

go to justins...

*deal with being a burden to another family every day and feel uncomfortable just living?

move to north jersey...

*with $253 in my pocket, no job, 2 months before school starts and live with the football boys at their house?

all my options are pretty much terrible. any suggestions?

Please excuse my even poorer than usual typing skills... the gash on the palm of my hand is preventing me from resting it on my laptop. 

There's the first problem... than I think the caffeine kick from this tall redbull in addition to the adrenaline racing through my body due to this chaotic weekend is affecting my brainwaves. Lastly, the my stiff neck, the cuts and bruises on my arms & legs, plus the fat lip I'm sucking on is all taking a toll on me mentally.

Why so injured? you ask? How I wish I could blame it all on softball. 

I think it's been a little less than a year since my dad has hit me. It was last summer, closer to August that I was kicked out of my house and moved in with Justin permanently. Atleast, what I thought would be permanently. The first few months there was no communication between me and my parents. Justin had put me on his cell phone plan a few years prior to that occasion, for the reason that I could always get a hold of him and my parents couldn't take the phone away from me (as guaranteed by the counselors), so it wasn't an issue of them not having my number or me not having. It was an issue, however, of me giving up on all faith I had in them, and than the realization that Ithey probably didn't miss me anyway. 

As the summer nights dwindled into autumn, and autumn began to feel the fierceness of winter approaching, the phone calls started coming in. First mom...than after a few weeks by dad. Reluctantly, as I started to struggle financially & without a car at school, I gave in and came home to my real home for a weekend. 

Ever since, I thought everything was behind us... but I've come to learn, to relationship between me and my dad can be so decieving. And the thread that separates the verbal from the physical is a weak and jaded one.

Yesterday.... something must have been seriously shoved deep up inside my sister's asshole. We had a tournament in Doylestown, which we needed to wake up at 4:30 am to leave for. Immediately, she started in the kitchen bitching about breakfast and how she couldn't find shit she needed. I am obviously not a morning person so her voice rang through me in the most unpleasant way. By the time we reached the fields, me and her got in a tiff about a sweatshirt, regardless the details, and she loves the fact that she can embarrass me in front of the girls on the team because I don't really know them. (I'm playing for my dad's team by the way, her team, as a favor because they needed girls and I could always use the workout). So, like usual she had to make a scene knowing it eats at me because she is in her comfort zone.  Whatever.  I dealt with it, ignored her very subtly throughout the day with tears building in my throat, and let her through her under the breathe snarls at me like I was a brick wall. What exactly was I suppose to do? 

So in the car ride home, five minutes from the house, I tell dad to use the upstairs bathroom so I could finish installing the faucet in the downstairs one now that he bought the last piece. And than I said, "and afterwards I need to talk to you."

I wanted to explain that I didn't think I wanted to play anymore because I oculdn't handle Sam, but I didn't wanna say it out loud because obviously Sam was gonna start with me....

He agrees, and than after a minute or two says, "You don't want to play anymore, do you?" 

Me: "No dad, but thanks for announcing it."

We pull into the driveway and I hear Sam do that muttering snarl shes so famous for, and shoots back a snake-like grin. My entire body caught fire, and I just wanted to bash her head against the side window.

SHe opens the car door, and taunts me. I couldnt take it I snapped. Went after her, we started fighting...it was bad. Pushing screaming, kicking. Sam kicks me and I trip on the small bush behind me and land on the pavement. She starts kicking me relentlessly in the stomach like in out of a jail penn based film. Dad goes inside because he was holding back his shit for the past 3 hours. The old fucking bastard. WHile I keep trying to get back up, she just keeps kicking, trying to position herself closer to the doorway so when she gets the oppurtunity she could run. I keep screaming for her to stop being a pussy and let me get up... Cause only pussies kick someone when they're down. I could she her eyes flash with the sensations of cowardice, and the revelation that she was being a pussy. I could she her scared cause she knew I was faster, stronger, and now that she knew what she was doing was wrong, she knew I'd get her. She ran. 

I go inside and it starts again. I had her head in the palms of my hand pushing her face on the floor saying I wouldn't hit her like the bitch that she was because I wasn't a coward. She kicked me from her position on the floor. I screamed for my dad to come in and break it up. I just pinned her against the floor taking her kicks and scratches, and tightening my grip on her hair, andmy knee on her stomach. I scream again, and again, and again. And from the bathroom downstairs I hear my dad nonchalantly yell back, "I am busy!" "Just hold on." Like it wasn't a matter of importance at the moment. After what seemed to be forever, I saw his big scuffed boots drag across the kitchen and than he just stands there looking down at us, not making a move.

I COULD HAVE FUCKING KILLED HER AND I WAITED FOR HIM TO JUST SEPARATE US AND HE DIDNT DO SHIT! 

"BREAK IT UP YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" I screamed...

and that is when that battle of sibling rivalry shifted to the ruthless beating from him. At first he just screamed and oushed me..than eventually, with words exchanged, it became his fist to my lip, the palm of his hand to my forhead. His knuckled to my cheeks. A shove on the ground. A few kicks, my head squashed under his boot on my bedroom carpet. I can see the fat on his cheeks still, pucker as they do when he snaps, and his yellow teeth, jagged and sharp snarling at me with is nostrils flared. I feel my back slammed against the screen door, and I keep having the same flashbacks of all the times this goes on. Of how, when I finally think its over, it just smacks me back in face as a reminder of what my life was destined never to escape. 

My brother eventually helped me sneak out onto the back roof from his bedroom. I through a small duffel bag off, than jumped myself.

TJ: " I thought about doing that before.."

I climbed out, and sat on the edge, and threw my bag. I used my hands to push down the black shingles to make sure none would slip from under me before I was ready to jump. Than I looked for any hangings or juts from the side paneling I might get caught on. 

TJ: "Wait, Jill.." He said shockingly quick...
Me: "Yeah?"
TJ: "You're not commiting suicide are you?"
Me: "Ofcourse not, Teej. You think I'm gonna get hurt?"
TJ: "Nah, just don't think about it when you jump."
And than I did, and then I threw my bag and body over our neighbor's fence and just started running....

I came home tonight... Just walked right back into the front door. My mom said, "Hi Jillian, are you staying?" I said yes as I walked upstairs to drop down my things. I could here my mom and dad muttering in the kitchen. I walked downstairs right into the kitchen and looked him in his beaty green eyes that I thankful I never got.

"I've realized nothing between us will ever change. So just swallow your pride and shutup. I can take it. Let's just keep moving on."

And after my little improv speech, I walked right back upstairs and have been sitting here ever since.

It's only 10:21 on a Saturday.

It's funny how one day can be so normal, and than the worlds starts spinning backwards again.

I had a great night tonight :) Perfect Medicine for my awkward position I'm in...

When I say awkward, I mean my incapability to deal with pain. I Don't Know How to...

Honestly! I mean, I haven't cried at one funeral that I've attended, from Grandmoms, to uncles, to friends...I just can't. Sometimes, among the sea of people spilling their every feeling out through the simple gesture of shedding tears, I manage to squeeze a couple out; to atleast make myself feel humane.

And when bad stuff happens to me, my body acts out of whack. My heart will race...and when I say race, I mean flutter and pound in my ribcage. It's a very...undescribable sensation that hurts and is uncontrollable. And I get tired, than energetic, and I want to go out and be alone at the same time. Usually alcohol helps...

i love being drunk.


But back to my night,
It was a great pick me upper! A small get together at Colie's. Her friends from work and our girls. I whipped out my sexy candy striped Guess bathing suit with a hanging shoulder white cover up and my low ride Guess jean shorts...and had my sex hair on :) . The girls loved it, the guys loved it, and even though this may be shallow, to here the words "you're a hot, why were you with that girl" REALLY put a damper on my downess. So shallow. So lame. But everyone knows flat, blatent flattery is the cure to the pain of heartbreak

I have batting lessons tomorrow so I got to get to bed :) 

dramaforkittys... we can do this :)

I know how to pick em.

So, I found the real reason Ray broke up with me out of the clear blue sky... she is now officially back with her ex sex-goddess girlfriend. Hmm... atleast she gave me the courtesy of 24 hours before getting back with Dom. 

Thank you Ray, what a gentleman.

Now this is a big fucking slap in the face. Oh yes, it is. I don't miss her specifically because it's been done before and she's way too childish for me. (12 :30 curfew, she's 19 years old and a sophomore in college. I haven't had curfew since my soph year in highschool) And she's only made me cum twice during sex. Out of ALL the times we had sex. And she did always say things like "I wanna spend the rest of my life with you" and "this is for real, we're gonna last forever" and she knows I don't believe any relationships last...so whatever. But the fact that she dumped me is what's really cutting me up. And dumped me for her ex who she constantly trash talked while we were together! 

That's horrible. I don't know how this chick does it, but this is the SECOND TIME. Let me elaborate...

After we came back from Florida, Ray was still talking to her ex- but we started hooking up anyways. Now I was talking with Pete and I wasn't looking for anything serious with Ray, but I did really fall for her somehow, and I told her to her face that she didn't have to tell me everything, but just never lie to me. She promised. And eventually her and Dom weened out, and she was with me EVERYDAY and Night for a month. Then OUT OF NO WHERE, literally no where, I swear.... she goes to Dom's. I really didn't care, like do what you want, I have no right to say anything and I wouldn't anyway...you can't help who you love. 

The next morning, she keeps getting short with me. And I ask her if her and Dom are trying to work things out, because if they are, I don't wanna get in the way and I don't want us to be weird because we're TEAM MATES, not just lovers. She says, "No, me and dom are just trying to work on being friends so were not fighting every other minute. You're the one I want, and you're not getting in the way of anything". 

THAT AFTERNOON we had a home game. Somewhere around the third inning, I come in off the field and am SWARMED by my teammates. DOM WAS AT OUR GAME wearing a wristband with Rayna's number on it. Now, everyone is gossiping and wanting me to freakout on Dom because basically everyone hates her and such. Now I feel like a huge asshole. HUGE ASSHOLE. Our whole team, WHOLE TEAM, is looking at me waiting for me to make a move. Seriously, it was embarassing . 

After the game, we usually walk back to our dorms together (me and ray). Not today. So I text her. "Ray if somethings going on please let me know. You promised you wouldnt lie to me and now you're making me look like an asshole and everyones coming up to me saying stuff. You need to remember that we're more than just hooking up, we're also teammates and its gonna be that way for 3 more years. "

After a few cocky responses, beating around the bush, she eventually sends me a lengthy message about "what she has to do is work things out with Dom. has to do it. " Ect. ect. ect...

I got soooooo wasted that night, it was amazing :) And ofcourse, after a WEEK of ignoring her during practices, and none of the other girls talking to her, I got wasted and called her at 3 in the morning...

That is the stroy of how she fucked me over the first time.

Now OUT OF NO WHERE AGAIN she breaks up with me, and I go on facebook (Satan's little ISPY tool) and shes in a relationship with Dom, and theyre sending eachother love notes as of late last night.

I feel my cheeks burning as I type!!!! I FEEL LIKE THE BIGGESSSSTTT ASSHOLE!!! PLEASE TELL ME IM RIGHT!!!! 

She's like a little child. I hate her with all the veins in my body. MY BANGING ASS FUCKING BODY..

Now, not to tute my own horn, but I need to build up my self esteem right quick...don't hold this against me.

I AM FUCKING AS CLOSE TO PERFECT AS ANY HUMAN PERSON CAN BE. Seriously, I fucking am. I'm fucking hot, I have a pretty sweet body, I have a 4.0 GPA, I'm athletic, the starting right fielder in college, and everyone likes me. I'm creative, extremely stylish, and little kids love me! I'm witty, and sweet. AND IM FUCKING AMAZING AT STRAIGHT AND GAY SEX. WTF. THERE IS NOTHIN FUCKING WRONG WITH ME.

I feel like she just couldn't handle my perfection. Understandable. 

Okay, now that I vented...I'm stuck in this hotel room, alone, in Maryland. My sisters with her softball friends, Dad's at the bar, and I'm here alone... atleast I got my laptop, Puffers, and my cell. 

I love how my life falls apart so quickly. When it rains, it pours...

Somebody save me. Please....what am I doing so wrong.

Back from the other end of the Turnpike, and to my surprise, I am so longing to go back :/

So Saturday I left to go stay in North Jersey with Ray. It was her birthday on Tuesday, so of course I had to make the trek from SJ. On the two-hour drive there, alone, I tried to make myself hate her... I took all the frustrations with my life that is currently falling apart, the guilt and shame of my heartless cheating, the pressure she put on me to be there for her this weekend, and the annoyance of the distance between us, and I tried to displace all these built-up frustrations on her. I knew exactly what I was doing...I wanted to hate her sooo badly, so I could just end this relationship now before anyone got hurt.

But when I stepped out of my car and saw her walking towards me from her backyard, the way she looked at me, the way she smiled and walked in a bee-line to where I leaned against Pretty Lady (aka my car), ugh...it was p e r f ec t.  I felt a lump drop into my throat and I got chills. Her arms slipped around my body so perfectly that I couldn't breathe for a second, so caught up in the picturesque quality of our meeting. Every single thought I tried to throw at her, against her, all the things I conjured up on the way there to try and justify my decision to end the relationship flew COMPLETELY out the window as soon as she smiled at me. 

And I'm glad it did :) She's amazing and I love her. Immature, yes. Unfocused, very. Complete opposite? Completely. But something about her got me this far. . . I can't see myself without her now. 

Looking back, I'm surprised with how comfortable and happy I was. There's such an extreme difference in our personalities and lifestyles, I was almost sure I'd be miserable! 

Let's start with a little background note to our readers: 

First off, she has just come out to her parents this past October. Her father's still in complete denial, and her mother accepts it, but doesn't approve. For example, she doesn't want to see us kiss or touch in front of her, and she's been quoted to say things like "you can never get married" to Ray. Her 15 yr old sister knows, atleast I think she does from hearing some of her comments, but her youngest (10 yr old) doesn't got a clue. 

While her parents know she's gay, they have no idea how gay! She lives a doublelife: with mani/pedis weekly, always with makeup on and in cute pink and blue AE and Abercrombie outfits back home, and then nothing but men's Express clothing, boxers, fitted hats, and not even the softest touch of a blush brush on her face at school. They haven't got a clue on how she really lives her life.. and it's extremely disappointing to me. I had to watch her change in her car at the train station before we went into NYC today, and then helped her change back after we got back, before we went home. 

I, on the other hand, told my parents about her the second day we started hooking up, without the slightest regard to how they would feel. I wasn't going to waste time hiding how I live my life to my parents; I feel like it's cowardice and not worth the effort since you only have one life to live. I told my sister, told my little brother (ages 17 and 12) and they've seen me and Ray together. I came out to my girlfriends that same day, and if they didn't accept it, fuck them. But, of course, I have the greatest girlfriends anyone could ever ask for, so they were shocked but extremely excited for me =) . The only person who doesn't approve is my ex, who coincidently is also one of my bestfriends. But, he knows that I will do what I want and he can either be a part of my life with an undderstanding, or not be part of it at all. Good news, he decided to bite his tongue. 

While I understand being gay is an alternative lifestyle, and there is discrimination that straight people won't have to face, I believe, from experience and observation, it's the people who closet their sexuality like it's something to hide that contribute to the controversy the most!  I embraced it openly, and gave the people in my life a choice to love me or leave me. Fortunately, I must have extremely tight bonds with all the people in my life, because not one person has decided to leave me (and there was a hell of alot of people involved). But if any of them had chose to leave me, was their friendship worth it anyway? Absolutley not!

Pet Peeve: Gay people who say they can't come out, and that no one would understand if they did. 

It's a weak excuse. It's 2008. And if no one will understand, you're doing a poor job of surrounding yourself with good people. Closeting who you are is a terrible way to live life... and it's a way that is not forced upon anyone. Closeting who you are is a decision you make, and a one of the poor est decision you could make at that.  

And so.. going up to Madison, I was afraid I'd hate the person she portrayed in her hometown (the word hypocrit raced through my mind alot). Luckily, I learned, she's still exactly the same, just in a different wardrobe. But either way,  I couldn't take my hands off her, and loved her just as much (thankgod). 

Well, in my loving bliss, I'm hoping to get a good night sleep and try to stick with this health-craze kick I just picked up. Wish me luck, loves.

xxx

So, the countdown has initiated. I have approximately four hours until the mall closes, exactly $23 in my pocket, and a 1/4 tank of gas left in Pretty Lady...

Tomorrow I leave to go see my first, to be with her on her birthday weekend. I have not one gift idea, nor means of getting a gift; i don't even have a card! 

If anyone is a brilliant and saavy birthday present prodigy, please enlighten me. Maybe these cues will help:

She likes, orange, rainbows, the number 23. Giant football, techno music (but thats not my strong pt so basically im cluest there), men's clothing, Chilli's, anddddddd is I-talian. 

I was thinking about getting her a rainbow colored Giant's jersey with the number 23 on the back, giving her it at a romantic dinner at Chilli's (cough) while a string quartet plays some Sinatra. However, the rainbow jersey is on back order, so any other ideas are moooooooooorrrrrrrrre than welcomed :)

xxx J

10:19 am...

From: my first

please dont cheat on me .. and if you do please just end this if you ever do .. sorry i had a really realistic dream 


And so, with the heavy morning crust still lining my eyes, a quick stinging sensation of exposure rushed from my spine to my cheeks as I read and reread the words of that Thursday morning text. 

Ironically, mixed in with that quick sting of embarrassment and guilt, a sense of relief swept over me; the sense that I wouldn't have to carry the secret with me any longer if I could just end this. But as spineless, exhausted, and jaded as I am, I just blew it off, didn't answer, and easily fell right back asleep. 

Who could of thought being gay would be this hard...

But I suppose, to understand where I am right now, I'd have to trek back a few months...to where this whole new lifestyle came about...Now, be prepared to be as confused as I once was. I'll try to keep this Reader's Digest version...

After breaking up with my boyfriend of (on and off) four years, I decided to implement a new outlook on school (the school which I previously hated with all organs of my body), and I guess with my new attitude, a broken heart, and the magic atmosphere of a springbreak Florida vacation, it was almost inevitable that I'd fall for someone so quickly.

...but for a girl, let alone a girl on my softball team...now that was completely unpredictable. 

And so the story goes, when we finished the tournament and got back from Florida, and the second half of the second semester picked up again, I grew some beer balls and layed it out on the line; that I sweated (as we will refer to her in this blog) my first. Apparently my hints in Florida weren't enough for her to notice; making her give me topless massages, flirting in the backseat on the way to our games, the little sexy dresses I wore almost every night regardless our plans. Later she tells me she thought I was just a very open straight girl. 

But back to that night, it only took a few hours before me and her were macking it on a teammate's couch; me half naked and wasted, heels slipping off, and her hands dominating my body (even though its sort of a fuzzy memory due to my intoxication). After that, with her barely taking my interest in her seriously, I grew head over heels in love with her. 

I was completely infatuated. I was sober ALL THE TIME, had to change my outfits like three times a day, and even tried to quit smoking! I learned how to text message, wore sexy panties every day, and did almost anything possible to win her over; which I did.

People thought it was weird how un-weirded out I was about the whole situation. Looking back, it is weird. 

"Hey guys, I know I've been straight for 19 years of my life, was previously boy crazy, and just ended a serious heterosexual relationship, but you know what, I think I'm gay now."

Hmm... Who really knows how I felt about it, I was too infatuated to notice. But anways, for about a month and a half we spent every day and night together; however, I was always constantly worried she'd go back to her sex-goddess ex-girlfriend (I'll save the story for a rainy day, but me and my first were on a short hiatus while she did the dirty with this Aphrodite).  And then, on a random road trip to Sea Side Heights,  she grabbed the reigns and asked for exclusive rights. 

Let me clarify; I now have a GIRLFRIEND.

And that is the story of how this jersey girl broke into the lesbian world. Now let's get to the good stuff, because I know you alllll want to hear about the sex.

Ladies, if you are straight, and the straight sex isn't what you thought it was amped up to be, then I highly reccommend experimentation. GAY SEX IS A M A Z I N G.

Alot of my girlfriends say , "well of course its better because a girl would know what a girl wants." That my friends, I believe is bullshit. However, I'm not trying to degrade its awesomeness. But my philosophy on the sex is a bit different. 

QUESTION: During straight sex, which participating member is more orgasmic? 

Don't be shy, now. You can admit it,  It's the girl. Think about it, the girl is the one moaning, and arching her back, panting, and scratching, twisting and feeling herself.  She's the one biting her lip, wearing the outfits, and pulling at her own hair. The guy is just a vibrator with hands, gripping the ass every once in a while, and saying "Oh baby" repeatively through grinding teeth. Seriously, I think I turned myself on more than my ex ever had when we did it. 

Now think of everything I just said, and subtract the guy, and add a girl. It is fucking mind blowing. 
                                                        Allow me  to emphasize: GAY SEX IS A M A Z I N G. 

After trying to explain this to the girls, their next comment was completely predictable: "I don't think I could ever go down on a girl."

Do you honestly think I ever thought I would? Sometimes their wit is just too much for me. 

 I must admit, my first time going down south I was a little grossed out, nervous, and confused, but let me tell you: now I AM ADDICTED. 

LESBIAN ENCOUNTER QUICK Q & A SESSION:
* No, it doesn't smell
* NO, it DOES NOT taste like battery acid
*Yes, it does get pretty wet down there, but goggles are unnecessary
*Yes, I'd rather eat a girl out than give a guy head A N Y D A Y
*And cum doesn't really squirt out, it sort of gushes

I think my addiction to giving oral pleasure has also come about because I am so damn good at it. Not to toot my own horn but, ::cough cough::: MULTIPLE orgasms, I do hit that G-spot, and I am the "best shes ever had". Not a bad record coming from a rookie ;) I'm just happy I'm better than her ex-gf, because that sex-goddess gives off this facade of sexual greatness. On Contraire, mi amores, she has got nothing but experience on me; and that's not even working for her.  

Before my head grows any bigger, let me tell you about my latest encounter, and the reason for such an awkward awakening this morning...

For the past month in a half, with the official title of Girlfriend not bothering me in the least bit, I had been living on cloud nine. But  our season ended, the semester ended,  and she went back to her small town in North Jersey, and I made the journey back to SJ. The first two weeks of summer: perfect. She even took a weekend vacation to visit me and meet my girls.

But of course, like all great things, the honeymoon had to end. 

From Tuesday until this past Sunday, I spent the week in Wildwood at a condo on 17th with about fourteen friends. 

Memorial Day Weekend: For all those from South Jersey, you understand the seriousness of this week. For all foreigners, that really sucks. 

And so , with little text message and convo quarrels from my first fueling me on, the constant drunken state I was caught in, and that Jersey shore mentality, I ended up picking up my future roomate (aka teammate, aka friend's ex-girlfriend) on a random 3:30 am drive (ps. she lives in wildwood) and making out with her. for the what was left of that day. 

I'll spare you the details, but our little affair continued on my last day down the shore as we decided to have a sleep over at her apartment. While we did hit the boiling point, we didn't have sex. The awkwardness of the situation sort of smacked us in the face mid-undressing. 

One good thing did come from it though; I feel like I can officially announce that I am bi-sexual. 

Her body (we will call her Heartbreaker) is nothing like my first's. She's fit, and tight, and has those ab lines carved into her stomach. Her tits are small (which i loooooovvveee) and are pierced like mine :). And while everything about her screams badass, when she kissess.....ughhhhhhh... her lips melt in yours. She's soft and gentle, but not toooo gentle. I can't describe it. You'll know though, you'll know exactly what I mean when you meet your own Heartbreaker. 


And so, I've lived with this secret burning in my throat for the past five days; unable to tell anyone except my hometown girls because of the many rifts it would drive in the many relationships involved: me and my firsts, the heartbreakers and her ex gf, our teammates, my future roomate and suitemates, my firsts and heartbreakers friendship, me and HB's exgf's friendship... 

"The Truth is beautiful -- no doubt. But then again, so are lies. "




So there we have it. Welcome to my life. This is the epic story of the little girl with big dreams. Love it or hate, this is me. Nice to meet you, I'm sure we'll all get along just fine...

-til next time,
xxx J