Stealing Kisses

The tale of Jay and I can be summed up in one post, since for some reason I have been a slave to the LDR (that's long distance relationship, for those lucky bastards of you who have never been in one) over the years. While Akron to Solon may not seem long distance, for 14 year olds with no cars and different schools, we might as well have been on different planets.


Our romantic meeting:

This is weird. Did I steal this kid's first kiss? It doesn't seem like he was all that eager to "work out" with me. 


Turns out he likes me:

(Did you hear that? I'm perfect!)


Turns out I like him: 


"So after the movie, he calls his dad, and we sat on the bench waiting to be picked up, just talking and I loved every minute of it. He is just so fun to be around because we can be weird together. Navid always hated it when I was weird."


So after all of that preaching about how I could only be myself around Navid, it comes out now that I couldn't be weird around him? If I'm not being weird (especially then) I'm not quite sure who I was being.


My Valentine's Day punk mix (which I still have on my running playlist):

(Was #11 trying to tell me something?)


The doubts begin:

(Was anyone else confused about what Marital Status was back when we had AOL profiles? I always read it as Martial. Black belt, green belt? What does single mean anyway, you only have one?)


The break up:

We both seem pretty beat up over this. Do you like me? No. Cool, I don't like you either! See ya.. never (since we didn't anyway). Have a nice life!


And as far as I know, he is. JaYDoG, if you're reading this... thanks for the CD.

No Commentary Required

My thoughts at 14 on 9/11/01:

Sweet Like Honey

After a long summer of fighting, Navid and I decided to call it quits due to the fact that I was off to a new school in the Fall.


It didn't take me long to latch onto the first upperclassman I saw (queue Taylor Swifts "Fifteen" here) in the lunch room. Or rather, perhaps he latched onto me. My new Walsh friends Rachel and Bean would need to confirm this today, but it seemed as though almost out of nowhere, Jon started inexplicably bringing me small honey packets. 


Because I was so sweet.


Gag me. 


I also learned that he stole the honey packets, but I overlooked his klepto tendencies and kindly purchased a few sugar packs to give right back to that little gumdrop!

After that romantic viewing of Pearl Harbor, we started going out. Then, as in all doomed relationships, the honey stopped flowing and instead I got notes like this:

Which leads to diary entries like this:

I know what you're thinking. "Man, Kelsey, that's harsh," and also, "Why did you think he was depressed? He seems like a perfectly good note writer and kisser according to everything I've heard." 


Here's why I thought that:

(Oh good. There's more.)

Now, I know I have no room to talk, since I have some poetry and songs of my own that could really rival what he had going on here. But it was really dragging on the excitement of the whole dating-an-older-man thing. 

Don't worry, he made it through the break up okay. Here we are all gussied up at Homecoming:

In hindsight: wrong hair, wrong dress, wrong date.

Sheets to the Streets

Well, despite the extensive sex ed we had during my 8th grade year, I still wasn't prepared for when one of my male friends took the plunge and gave up his V-card to a morally flexible 16-year-old. 


I'm going to skip the details that I was kind enough to include in my journal, since I'm trying to avoid being sued over this thing. However, I will share what I thought my friend's inevitable future was since he had intercourse at a young age. 

Wow. This would make for an awesome "Just Say No" campaign - for both drugs and sex. I mean, you do it once and the next thing you know you're addicted to coke and selling off your hundreds of babies for drugs.


Bleak.


For those who are wondering, the last I checked - my early blooming buddy is successfully working as a mechanical engineer and in a relationship that does not include domestic violence or weed addiction.