Thursday, 24 January 2013

Whoring It Up

I am a terrible human being. I seriously don't know why my boyfriend puts up with me.

At the Student Union last night I kissed another guy. If I was single I would have been happy - he was totally hot - but I am not single. I am very happy with my boyfriend. Ugh. Messy mess mess. I don't even understand how it happened, I told him about my bf and everything, but then I had too many drinks, and I kissed him. That I cannot deny, it was me that kissed him first. Only intended to be short and sweet, but then he pulled me back in and I couldn't resist. He was a good kisser, tall, muscular, with a strong jaw and a cheeky chappy grin; even gave me his jacket when we got outside and it was snowing. Any other time I would have counted myself lucky, but I was racked with guilt.

Then my friend yelled at me, judging me, and I panicked and ran away by myself. Drunk and alone in the snowy early hours. I was a victim waiting to happen. I have a bright red hooded coat, its very distinctive and boys kept stopping and asking me if I was okay, telling me to come with them. Some were genuinely nice, some were awfully sleazy. They asked me where I lived, and for some reason I lied and said I didn't know. I cried. Then cheeky chappy found me again, said he was sorry he was the reason I wasn't with my friends, didn't even try and kiss me again. I called another (sober, male) friend and he came and picked me up, let me stay at his.

When I woke this morning I didn't know what to do. I spoke to my friends and eventually we decided, I had to tell him. I'd go crazy otherwise.

So I waited til he got home from work and called him. He was mad. More so then I'd ever known him to be. He said I didn't care about him, that he didn't trust me. I cried some more.

Eventually we talked it through a bit more, he said he still loved me, I said I was scared to hurt him again. We're still together. He's coming to see me at uni tomorrow, to stay the weekend. I'm a walking catastrophe.

All this mess for two moments of strong lips on mine, arms around my waist. I'm a whore. There is no other way to describe me. Yet for some reason my boyfriend still loves me.

By no stretch of the imagination do I deserve that boy.

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