I've been found out. Me and my big mouth blog. The irony is that this comes on the heels of the week in which I discuss the effect of my blog on my real life.

the horror I'm feeling over this just gets greater with each waking moment. All the words I wrote come rushing back to me in a nightmare flood, making me sick. Words no one should have to read about himself. Words that should never be made public, even in the imaginary realm of the internet where we think we can cloak the private in a shield of anonymity. I probably shouldn't be writing this either.

I just wanted to remember everything because I knew it might not ever happen again. Why in this medium? Because it was there. Because I'm a very lonely person who lives thousands of miles away from people who care about me. So I substitute the real human interaction I crave with this electronic one. Even if I can't see these other people, at least I know they are there. And I can pretend I have all thes wonderful friends who get so excited for me when something good happens, because in reality I am alone and no one cares. I'm just a sad crabby old maid with two cats.

That's why I'm so upset over this. I've lost a real person I cared about who could have been a great and long term friend. I sacrificed him on the alter of this blog. For the attention I guess. And because I needed to tell someone what happened, someone who would listen, someone who could validate this as a real experience and not a fantasy. I must have hurt and insulted him, which is the last thing I wanted to do. Me and my foolish hystrionic blatherings on the internet.

This may mean the death of this blog. But then I wouldn't even have my pretend friends and then where would I be? I don't know. I want to take it all back and make different decisions. But I can't. I just pray that I didn't matter much to him so that this was nothing more than a mere annoyance. I guess this shouldn't matter so much to me, everyone says just forget it, but I can't. And it does matter. A whole hell of a lot.

Come back for more TRUE stories of the strange, sad and pathetic exploits of me not having sex in the city.

The Adonis of Derry

So I arrive in Derry the day after my date. I'm staying in a room with this gorgeous, perfectly proportioned boy going to Georgetown. I'm fairly certain he was interested in me. But I deflected his flirts. I think this is a sign of maturity. A few years ago I would have been totally into him. He wanted me to go to a pub with him and the others Saturday night but I declined. A few years ago, I would have gone with them and flirted as much as I could and then when he was drunk enough let him kiss me, a lot, for a long time. Then I'd have to stop him and tell him we aren't having sex. Which part is always not fun. That doesn't appeal to me anymore the way it used to. It really kind of sucks actually. But I did enjoy waking up in the morning to see him walking around the room without his shirt on with his golden skin and chest glowing in the morning sunlight. I don't think you grow out of enjoying that.

It's a darn good thing this boy had that stupid long hair. He reminded me of the surfer boys I went to high school with and that curbed my attraction to him. If he had short hair there might've been problems. He probably would've made me stupid.

I don't even regret not going for it with the guy, (he was all pouty the day after I spurned his pub invite.) This shows major growth for me I think.

Waiting to hear from Dublin about what he wants to do next week with his holidays!

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I have to move to Ireland!

I'm here safe and sound now. I didn't arrive very soundly since I hadn't slept in two days straight and had to wait until 2 pm to get into my room. I arrived at 6 am. Since then I have slept more soundly then I can remember. I actually took a nap this afternoon! I haven't had a real dead-asleep nap in more than a year. It's so wonderful to wake without stress, to breathe the clean air, smell trees on the rain. I saw the Book of Kells on Saturday and a very cool statue of Oscar Wilde reclining on a large stone in a bright green smoking jacket and he's wearing gold rings. I've been wandering around a lot, that's my favorite thing to do in a new city. Went to church today and it was fantastic. Got invited to the YSA fireside at the stake center tonight and was given a ride by one such single!

My posts from here will be shorter. It costs 2 euros for 40 minutes which is 2.60 us. But, I've already got stuff to write about after tonight and I'm probably going to a YSA party/fhe tomorrow night too!

My first impression which hasn't changed yet is that Ireland is the South of Britain. And I mean that in a positive way. The people are much friendlier than England and Scotland and it's cleaner and they seem to take a lot more care with the appearance of the town and buildings.

I LOVE IT HERE!! I Love the Lord, I'm so grateful for the opportunity to see this part of the world. I'll try not to waste a minute of it.
Read more later.

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So sorry but

I have been 'packing since 10 pm and it's now 6 am and i have completed almost nothing because I have ADD and packing is a total nightmare for me. I feel like I've been stuck in a mirror maze funhouse for hours and hours and hours. I can't organize, or keep track, or make little decisions....I leave in about 8 hours and have nothing packed and still have errands to run. So, I'm not going to be able to write about my date until later. I really meant to. This wasn't supposed to be this bad. I always forget I'm so packing-retarded.

I want to scream. I did scream. Several times. Check back in a couple days. But I can tell you HT called to say goodbye and to give me his email address. The last thing he said was that he'll see me when I get back and we can talk about stuff. Unless he is in Spain for the rest of the summer. So, if he's around I guess we'll discuss our dating or not. I'm leaning towards not.

Come back for more TRUE stories of the strange, sad and pathetic exploits of me not having sex in the city.