Imagine you’re making out with a really cute guy. He’s got you in his bed, that Summer Walker song is booming on the speaker, the lights are off, and the mood is just right. All of a sudden, he asks you…
Don’t be Eloise. Eloise is stupid and makes impulsive choices that she doesn’t think about the consequences for. Kissing boys is fine. It is innocent, it happens, and it especially happens in college. The reason I’m severely advising against being Eloise is because I made the fatal mistake of kissing my computer science TA.
I miss him so so much. I can’t even begin to describe how much I miss him. It’s the fucking vignettes, I’m telling you. I’ve always wanted to have a movie perfect summer. I’ve wanted it to be rose colored and warm so that, in my memories, I’d always be smiling or laughing. They’d be the kind of memories that played to a road-trip pop song.
Raza is sleeping right next to me as I type. Tonight, Cameron, Raza, and I decided on a sleepover, so I get the comfy red couch, Raza gets the foldout black futon, and Cameron gets to cozy up in his bed. I hate admitting this, but I turned the brightness all the way up on my computer for a second, and turned the light towards Raza’s face, to see what he looked like all sweet and cocooned under the covers.
Don’t get this mixed up, though. I do not have feelings for him. Read More…
There’s this boy that I’d been sleeping with for a while– his name is Raza– and over the past week we’ve gotten really close. An important aspect of our relationship was intimacy, so before I debrief into my self-psychoanalysis, I want to cover the sex (sorry mom and dad).
It wasn’t always the best.
(TRIGGER WARNING: SEXUAL VIOLENCE)
I was reading over my diary– a relic I’ve had since the 6th grade– and as a college freshman, I thought it would be interesting to read through what happened to me in late November of every year since 10th grade. I would go back earlier, but I didn’t write for November at all from 6th-9th, so we’re stuck with this.
I’m going to keep it exactly how it’s written in my journal– unexplained typos, poor punctuation, and all. If anything is bolded, it’s my present day Eloise commentary. I’ll probably use it for clarification and contextualization.
Thought I’d share a funny short update on Nicholas Henry Holiday here, for the three people on here who’ve been following my life.
If you want a refresher, rereading the preface (AKA my first three-or-so paragraphs) of my On College Loneliness and My First College Boyfriend post would give all the context needed for this.
It happened only twice, but when I would tell people my goofy stories of how Nick Holiday would unconsciously call me by a different girl’s name, they would be in absolute shock. Everyone was always more distraught about it than I was.
Taking a break from the long posts I’ve been writing, let’s have some light fun and reminiscing of the good moments I had in my life.
Nicholas Henry Holiday and I would sleep together nearly every night, and I quickly found out that he sleepwalks. There wasn’t a single night we slept together that he didn’t wake me up. I thought I’d share the first time it had ever happened to me.
Going into my freshman year, I was told that college can be a lonely time for us adolescents. Had you known me exactly one month ago, I would have disagreed: I had a rich, popular boyfriend, went to parties on the weekends, and had friends galore. If you had asked me a month ago from tomorrow, I would have one-thousand percent concurred.