An Ode To MySpace

An Ode To MySpace

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MySpace is actually still going. It’s limping along like a 3-legged dog who thinks it’s a sleek black panther – but of course to all of us bloggers it died many years ago.

At it’s peak it was truly awesome. Almost everyone there used an alias, and so it was a natural thing to spill your secrets and confessions on there – and could be very theraputic because of that, too!

When it was all dying, and we all gave up the fight to stay away from Facebook, the will to stay in contact with those we’d shared our MySpace life with meant breaking down all those walls and letting the few trusted ones see who we really were on there.

In Real Life.

Of course, many of us had already met each other by that time – but even then it was weird to suddenly be able to see their friends, family, and their bizarre/mundane lives away from their MySpace masks!

I used my Nasty Evil Ninja account to post stuff that was really close to the bone – rants mixed with real life drama, and I didn’t hold much back at all! It’s no secret that a lot of my Sex Blog Thursday posts (remember THAT?!?) were about or featured real life people!

Don’t ask which ones were real – I’m still not going to tell you that!

Often on Facebook the talk drifts back to how it used to be on MySpace, and so I thought I’d like to share a few of the outstanding memories with you.

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Friends

Before they were called ‘friends’. Were they ‘contacts’ or something? I remember being in someone’s Top 8 list meant something special!

I made a lot of friends from other bloggers, or people who read and commented on my blog, and a good few of them are still in contact today!

Some I’ve met in person either at the time or after MySpace died, and there are still some I’m yet to meet.

The awesome thing here was the overseas people – not just from the US and Canada but from Croatia and Holland and St Thomas and Australia… And many from the UK who I’m sure I’d have never met through any other medium!

A few of those have had drama, and some seem to have fallen off, but for the most part those I’m still in contact with have flourished since those days, and it’s great to see!

Drama

It’s what we were there for! Some people got hit hard by life, and I’m sure MySpace helped them through it. The funny thing is that it was quite rare people would be nasty to you on there – unless you got some fued going with them (or you’re a female who doesn’t swoon over cock pics).

I had a rocky stage in my life on there. All got documented from relationships breaking up, to falling in love…

At one point I lost my business, split up with someone big-time (The Police got involved and called me in to try and shut my blogs down!), and someone stole the one thing I had left – my bike – and I was in a pretty bad place.

Miraculously, someone who commented on my blogs offered to lend me enough cash to buy and insure a new bike to get myself back on my feet. I didn’t think she was in any position to do this as a single mother, and she’d never met me before in person, and didn’t even know where I lived. The first time we ever met was when she handed me a wad of cash with nothing but a promise that I’d pay her back as soon as I could. No strings attached – no more expectations, nothing. I’m still not sure if she just took a risk or was an excellent judge of character (and yes, I did pay her back!). She knows who she is and I’m eternally grateful!

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Fame

Some of the other top bloggers made it! They now get paid to blog and stuff, and that’s brilliant! I think Perez Hilton started out blogging on MySpace? Not that he was in my Top 8, but he’s probably the leading example of where some of us went. Some of the more arty types are now selling their work, and that’s great to see!

Me? Well, after millions of views on MySpace I switched to this blog to try and keep things going – but that’s never really taken off. Nobody is exactly beating off… err, I mean, beating MY DOOR DOWN for my erotic writing, or inane ramblings. And that’s ok.

I did make the switch to YouTube where I currently have approaching 3 million views of my bike videos, and you may have noticed I have a little car racing hobby that’s made me fairly well-known in some circles. The ‘fortune’ certainly hasn’t come, yet, though!

Hilarious stuff

Remember Farmer Vincent’s Fritters? Or Abe and his ongoing wilderness battles with Nagatha? There were more I’d love reading just to make me laugh. Some of those guys were just amazing, and I’ve got no idea what happened to them! Apart form Abe – he’s still around the place!

You’ll notice I haven’t used many of the MySpace names in this blog – and the main reason for that is I can’t remember what all of them were! There are also a few who want to be distanced from all that. Some I now know only by their real name and can’t even remember what they called themselves on MySpace!

Actually, screw it – let’s have a crack at the names I can remember. I’m sure I’ll miss some really obvious ones who are right in front of me on Facebook:

Slinky, Foxxxy, Solaris, Wolfshades, Albino Cockroach, Zanna, Bruce, Abi, Manda, Helen, Buddha Mama, Boo Boo Kitty-fuck, Loree, Sweets, Darren Dragon, Salacious Bee, Tamar (Diary of something?), Emz, Helly, Sassy Little Secret, Saz, Julian (Mr.. ??). The Girl, Debz, Soo, Isabel, Bea, Abe, Tits McGee, A Giraffe, Tom, unnngh there are so many profile pics I can see in my mind but can’t remember their screen name!

Feel free to post up any more names you remember, miss, I’ve missed, or your MySpace memories! And if you were there put your name and feel free to add me if we’ve lost touch for the last 10 years!

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Best Man Wedding Speech

Best Man Wedding Speech

I had the great honour recently of being one of the three best men at a friends excellent wedding.

After the initial panic about having to speak in public, I decided to embrace my fears and treat it like my own performance.  Like being in a band again, and going out on stage to own the place and entertain everyone.

At first I did intend to just lift chunks of speeches from other ones online, but after reading a few I decided I had enough to say about my mate in my own words, and so why not have something totally original?

I wasn’t even that nervous about it – until I heard the corks being popped on the Champagne before they poured it into the toasting flutes!

I then had a flap that the speech was far too long, and almost tried to lop huge chunks out, but then stood up and just went for it. 

I stumbled a few times, but managed to engage with the 90-odd people in the room, making sure I looked around the room as much as I could (my copy of the speech had key words and lines printed in bold so I could latch onto something when I looked back at the paper), projecting my voice as if I were speaking to the person at the far end of the room, desperately trying to talk as slowly as I could (you’ll speak at a million mph when all eyes turn on you!), and put the paper down as much as I dared to chat away unscripted.

It wasn’t perfect for me, but it did go pretty well, and I enjoyed doing it!

I thought some of you might want to see my basic speech (without my ad-libbed bits, unfortunately), and hope you’ll join me in wishing Lee and Anita a long and happy marriage!

——

Best Man Speech

Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls.

It’s been a wonderful day already, so I figure I probably can’t ruin it too much with my speech!

Anita, you look wonderful, and it’s been great seeing so many happy faces here today to share this celebration with you both.

For those of you who don’t know me – I’m James, one of Lee’s chosen best men here today, and the one given the task of the Big Speech.

I’m normally very laid back – but Lee… well let’s just say that you can see the soles of his shoes when he walks!

I doubted that for a moment last Friday, when I got a text from Lee asking if I’d got a shirt yet? He sounded like it was a bit of a telling off for leaving it so late to sort it out, so I sent a sheepish text back asking a few questions about shirts, half-expecting a bit of anger. When he replied it was to tell me that he was, in fact, just out looking for a shirt for himself!

And as anyone who knows Lee will attest to, this is the pace of life you need to adjust to in order to avoid murdering him. Anita has either found this, or seen his life insurance policy.

Our bond was formed during the many years we shared in our band Black Church. Some of you may have had the pleasure of hearing our very technical and streamlined thrash metal, and it won’t be any surprise to see how Lee’s skill as a guitarist, singer and songwriter has flourished into the excellence it is today.

What most of you won’t have heard about is how we formed our very first band.

I first met Lee at when we both started at Bridley Moore High school in Redditch in 1990. That’s 25 years ago.

TWENTY FIVE. That’s a hell of a lot of time to be left unsupervised, so it’s a good job Anita came back on the scene!

From when we first met, we were both the coolest kids in the school. Probably not to anyone else, but to US, we were the coolest.

We hit it off straight away, and our horrible little minds were in the process of being corrupted by heavy metal, and the obvious step for anyone so cool was to start a band.

So we did, writing lyrics in lesson time, and planning how we’d take over the world with our band – Death and Eternal Destruction – DED. We’d write those three letters on our arms so often with biro I’m amazed it ever washed off. Every underpass in Redditch saw the letters DED scrawled on them – err, not from us – from fans. Ahem.

It was about 6 months later that we decided it was time to actually buy guitars, and shortly after we even learnt how to play them.

Lee picked up lead guitar very quickly and was always a natural – probably because we’d already imagined playing thousands of stadium gigs in our heads before we got instruments.

The band name changed to Black Church, and that was an absolutely massive part of both of our lives for the next 8 or 9 years. Many of you will have been tortured with this obsession, had to sit downstairs with earplugs in as we practised, or been banging on the door in rage trying to get us to shut up.

Lee was the first person I drank cider with in a bus stop. Being truthful, that’s not totally accurate – what we actually used to do was buy huge bottles of ‘Mild’ because it was cheap, and then wander around the streets, bloated, wondering why we weren’t feeling drunk on out 5 litre bottle of 2 percent alcohol, which we both thought tasted of watered down vomit.

**check Champagne glass**

Looks like he’s done better this time!

Highlights from school that I won’t go into included taking it in turns to skive off French lessons because Mrs Jones HATED us.

Taking it in turns to sleep in English lessons and making sure we told each other the answer when the teachers noticed.

Aceing Spanish and Italian lessons whilst constructing technically perfect sentences that used to make the teachers go mental.

I still remember our one from Spanish:

Tome la primera calle a la izquierda, la Ciudad de la Muerte esta aqui.

Sounds good. Sounds bueno! What it actually MEANS, is:

“Take the first street on the left – the City of The Dead is nearby”

I don’t think Lee has really changed since we were back in school, so it’s not really that surprising that he’s chosen to marry a teacher.

And, of course, for those of you who don’t know, it was back in those days at Bridley Moore High that Lee first met Anita.

At school, Anita was actually in the year above us – so untouchable and totally unapproachable in terms of school hierarchy.

Despite what Redditch teenage pregnancy figures might indicate, we were pretty much terrified of girls.

Still, as always, Lee doesn’t so much rise to the challenge, as totally ignore the fact it’s a challenge, and does it anyway!

This was no exception, and Lee was soon stalking – err, I mean TALKING to Anita.

I think it’s fair to say that I liked Anita instantly, too. My outstanding memory of her is the most fantastic parody of the scene in ‘Aliens’ where Hicks is showing Ripley how to use a pulse rifle. Only she made it sound like something out of a very dodgy soft core porn film!

Despite our teenage awkwardness around girls, I still remember Lee saying to me in the school corridor one day: “I’m going to marry that girl.”

Sadly, Anita then left Lee unsupervised for over 20 years…

One of the main things women look for in a husband (according to a desperate Google search for wedding speeches and stuff) is responsibility.

Lee is very responsible.

He’s very responsible for causing all kinds of mischief that nobody should ever talk about in front of a large crowd at an important event.

Like the time I bought a new air pistol – a Crossman Sportsmaster. Serious power. I showed it to Lee in my living room, while my Mom was upstairs. After pumping the pressure up to maximum, Lee proceeded to wave the pistol right at me for a while, before luckily settling on the light shade on the ceiling.

Pulling the trigger, we were surprised to find it was, in fact, loaded, and the Prometheus tipped pellet went straight through the light shade, through the light bulb, and disappeared deep into a hole through the ceiling!

“Yes, Mom – the light bulb just EXPLODED entirely on it’s own without Lee touching anything at all! It was a terrible thing!”

The small patch of Tippex we covered the hole with is actually still there today – and my Mom STILL doesn’t know anything about this!

Years later Lee turned up already somewhat inebriated at a quiet local pub on his birthday with a cake in the shape of a rather ample pair of breasts.

He was very subtle as he harassed the mostly elderly drinkers with a cheery:

“Go on! Have a bit of tit!”

Despite this, he then somehow managed to convince the landlord to give him a huge chefs knife to go stumbling around the pub with as he shared his bosom with everyone.

I’m not saying it got us banned – we just haven’t chosen to go back there since.

I know some of you would be expecting much more embarrassing or criminal stories about Lee’s past – and I’d like to say that other than what I’ve said here, Lee is squeaky clean. The truth however, is that I’m involved in most of them, and don’t want to incriminate myself.

You’re one of my oldest friends that still has hair, and it’s been an honour and a privilege to be best man today – so thank you.

Something that you used to say has always stuck with me: “Keep trying until preparation meets opportunity” – today is more proof that this isn’t just some esoteric yet inspirational line and can actually work. The opportunity to take Anita’s hand in marriage only took just over 20 years!

Seriously, though, it’s awesome to see you end up with your childhood sweetheart Anita. You’re great together, and I’m sure that both of you will be extremely happy for years to come.

And on that note, ladies and gentlemen, could I ask you to stand with me, and raise your glasses in a toast to the new Mr & Mrs Britton.

We all wish you well for the future.

To Lee and Anita!

50 Shades Of Grey – Acceptable Porn

50 Shades Of Grey – Acceptable Porn

I had this rant back in 2012.  I’m pretty sure the whole of society managed to agree on the fact that the books were utter shite.

Well, apparently not.

We have been treated to the film version!

Oh yes! Some skinny wench with ribs hanging out everywhere is now up on the big screen with her brooding-yet-powerful and equally as wooden co-star, and you get to sit in a cinema paddling away at your pink bits while everyone pretends to laugh about it all.

So here is my original blog on the ‘phenomenon’ – just replace the word ‘book’ with ‘film’ and feel free to go at it again:

You have probably been battered around your lady-parts lately by all this excitement over the book ’50 Shades Of Grey’ by E. L. James.

Everyone is going mental over it… err… ok – so by ‘everyone’ I mean the same kind of women who went mental over the Harry Potter books.  Of course, with this book being of actual adult material, it’s been attracting the interest of even more people than the scarf-wearing geeky twat for retards.

And speaking of twats – that’s pretty much what 50 Shades Of Grey is all about!Don’t get me wrong – I’m all for porn.  Just stop trying to dress it up as something else!

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Oh, sure – they’ll call it ‘erotic fiction’, but essentially that just means it’s all the writing from pornographic magazines compiled and expanded without the pictures.And ‘erotica’ is never just about straight sex anymore.  It’ll be whips, chains, spanking, klyster suits and two girls eating each others shit out of a cup!

Yes, I AM a bitter ex-writer of erotica – and I’ve had this rant before about how ‘erotica’ these days can’t just be about a couple having sex.  Apparently it’s not ‘sexy’ until a toy soldier gets shoved up someones arsehole.

So this book is pretty much designed to get women, in the words of ‘The Inbetweeners’, frothing at the gash.There will be lots of one-handed reading going on, if you know what I mean?

Even more astounding given this fact, is that so many people are trying to get hold of second-hand copies off others!?!

“Are the pages stuck together?”  Would be my first question!  Then I’d also be purchasing some disposable gloves and anti-bacterial gel.

I suppose one good thing that will come from this mass hysteria is that it may open up the market for erotic writing again… So maybe I should start reposting the stuff I used to put up for Sex Blog Thursday on MySpace?

Short story: “Haunted”

Short story: “Haunted”

He opened his eyes and was surprised to see her laying next to him in the bed, face down, with her long brunette hair splayed over her naked back and around her on the white bed sheets.

Her work alarm should have gone off before his.  Had she overslept?

Still eyeing her, senses spiked wide open by a hidden fear breaking to the surface, he realised he couldn’t see the rise and fall of her back.

Horror raked paranoid claws deep into his spine.

Now he held his own breath, the bedroom spinning away with the rest of the world as his sole focus was on the love of his life.

He reached out gently with his hand, the cold skin of her shoulder blade barely felt through panic so acute it was like being in the perfectly calm eye of the storm.

His world had fallen.

The million things he needed to do were overridden by this eternal moment, hand resting on death, the cold stillness petrifying him as he lay beside her body.

Shattered, but the pieces still together.  Scared to move, as movement would mean stepping forward, over the abyss into Hell.

Frozen.

She moved, barely perceptibly, and coughed gently…

He never did tell her of that morning – as if revealing it would recall the doom from which he had escaped.  His silence was his thank you.

But it haunted him every day.

EROTIC STORY: “Missionary”

EROTIC STORY: “Missionary”

She clasped her hand around him and kissed his lips as he gasped.

He walked her backwards towards the bed as her other hand slid his already open shirt from his shoulders, and gave his jeans that extra shove to drop down to his ankles.

Stepping out of them, he playfully nipped her tongue, lifting her own top over her head, groaning again as her hand wrapped around him again.

He gave a slight push towards the bed, but she resisted, her mouth curling into a playful smile.

Sidestepping sleekly, he pushed his hip against hers, lifting her feet off the floor and throwing her down onto the soft mattress, her amused shriek bouncing off the walls as he quickly straddled her and pinned her arms above her head.

He growled and bit her throat like a werewolf attacking her, and she giggled and writhed beneath him.

Smiling, they kissed again, eyes closed as long moments passed.  Without breaking his lips away, he moved so his legs lay between hers, and she kept her eyes closed tightly to revel in the sensation as his length rested against the wet warmth of her entrance.

He supported most of his weight on one arm, releasing her hands so she was free to wrap her own arms around his back, and he moved his palm over the curve of her hip, and over her buttock.

she squirmed her hips at his touch, feeling her clit rub against the underside of his penis.

He eased his hips forwards, sliding easily and spreading her wetness up her, increasing the pleasure for them both with a long slow motion, before drawing his hips back again so his tip was resting at her just inside her lips.

She dug her nails into his ass, pulling him harder against her as he slowly, torturously repeated the motion several more times.

His supporting arm began to shake – more with the anticipation and pleasure than the effort, and he shifted his weight onto both his elbows, tightly wrapping her in his arms by slightly lifting her back from the bed.

He slid his tip effortlessly inside her, holding it there, throbbing inside her as he kissed her neck – small, fast kisses that made him twitch inside her.

She tried to move her hips and draw him inside her, but he still had her body pinned by his weight, and she clenched tightly around him, loving the feel of him inside her, wanting him deeper, but enjoying his teasing too much.

He eased into her a tiny fraction more, going slowly so he could feel her warmth enveloping him, then pulling back almost all the way out, feeling himself shudder.  She cried out wordlessly as he slid back in, even more slowly this time, but not stopping, sinking as deep inside her as he could, filling her all.

This time holding deep inside her, he ground his hips against hers, rubbing her clit, her hips grinding back up against his rhythmically.

He pulled back slightly, then moved forwards, sliding back and forth whilst always staying deeply with her, moving his hips against hers in semi-circular motions, twisting with each other.

He let out a shuddering sigh as he pulled back, almost out of her, intending to tease her more by stopping, but now getting lost in the moment, she drew him back in, their hands pulling at each other, breath hot against each others cheeks.

They bucked faster against each other, no games left now – just wanting each other, wanting their own pleasure, and knowing that would come from that of the other.

She felt him expand inside her and knew he was about to cum before hearing him cry out, and her nails raked down the skin of his strong back, her legs gripping him, wanting him even closer now, as she fell over the edge herself.

The world was lost to them, and an eternity could have passed before she opened her eyes, his hand was stroking her face as he gazed at her.

His smile and the darkness of his usually bright blue eyes told her all she knew, and all she wanted to know – he was all hers.

And she was forever his…

A Deluge Of Smut

A Deluge Of Smut

Some of you will be aware of a few ‘erotic’ short stories I wrote a few years ago.

I actually wrote quite a few more of these than you will find on this blog… They were originally on MySpace, and posted each and every week for a day we themed ‘Sex Blog Thursday’.

Everyone else was writing the usual ‘erotic’ crap involving leather masks, spanking, whips, and anal sex with a dead yak.

I got noticed (my rise to MySpace fame!!!) through the masses because I was writing stories about real (vanilla?!) sex – without this kinky crap that seems essential to every other damned ‘erotic’ writer!  And, I guess, being a male doing this stuff was a bit different, too.

The truth is, I knocked one out (the STORIES, you perves!) in under 30 mins in most cases, without any editing or even reading them back.  It worked, loads of you people out there loved them, and life was rosier than a tinted condom.

Looking back at them now is Cringe City.

I’m actually a bit scared to repost them, despite lots of requests, because, well… I was anonymous on MySpace, and my Mom can see this blog linked to me on Facebook now.  And work people.  And real live people who may or may not have featured in some stories.  Umm… yes…

So, in the true spirit of ‘fuck it’, I’m going not look too closely at them, paste them as they are from the old archives, and post most of them again.

I think.

So, err, apologies in advance if you know me in real life, and normal service will resume once the deluge of smut has spooted all over my blog like a pot-bellied Asian guy in glasses at a Bukakke festival.

Enjoy!

A Blog About Taking Pics For Cancer. For Cancer.

A Blog About Taking Pics For Cancer. For Cancer.

First there were hundreds of selfie pics appearing all over social networks.  Not the usual selfie featuring a toilet in the background – these were pics of women without any makeup on.

Interesting.  You don’t see it from most people very often.  Oh, and the ’cause’ is For Cancer.

That’s got to be good, right?

Then there was the inevitable male repost of them taking pics of themselves WITH makeup on.  For Cancer.

Fair enough.

Suddenly, in the true spirit of social media, people started posting pics of themselves naked, with a sock over their genitalia.  Cocks In Socks.  For Cancer.

Righty-ho, thinks I, still saying nothing, as it’s For Cancer.

This morning, I logged in to see a picture of a topless woman, with her ample breasts each tucked into a woolly glove to hide their modesty.  Tits in Mitts.  For Cancer.

ENOUGH, PEOPLE!!!!

Cancer awareness is a great cause.  I AM aware of cancer.   I don’t need to be reminded I could die of it by 50,000 posts on Facebook and Twitter!

“Ooh, look how fun and wacky we’ve made cancer!”

No.  What you’ve done is spread the kind of fear that most of you sheep subconsciously thrive upon.  Now all we’re seeing is “Yay, Cancer!!!” every time we log in.

Now here’s me making myself a cup of tea.  For Cancer.

He’s my cute little dog.  For Cancer.

You should all share this picture of a dwarf fisting a traffic warden!  For Cancer.

Yes, we could all get cancer.  I bet hardly any of you posting these self-indulgent pics are giving every spare penny you have to cancer charities, are you?

Now fuck off.  For Cancer.

Obsession – Not Always A Bad Thing

Obsession – Not Always A Bad Thing

I’m not generally a person with an addictive personality.  I’ve never been hooked on drugs or cigarettes, and am happy to break my daily routine.

However, I do get quite obsessive over stuff.

There’s been martial arts training (ok, so that’s lasted for 28 years), playing bass guitar every spare second of the day when I was in bands, sword fighting/fencing, everything ‘motorbike”, and even girls (not in a stalky way).

Now, of course, I’m living and breathing motor racing as I gear up towards having my first race in Formula Vee later this year.

You may notice that most of these things I’ve moved on from, after a very intense period from months to years.  Even my writing comes in bursts – and at one time I was almost constantly writing poetry and short stories and blogs.

I guess it’s very likely to be my creative side in all these things. 

I will do my utmost to master my latest obsession.  I’m very competitive, and always attempt to be the absolute best, but then also know when to yield and acknowledge I’ve reached my peak and others may be better.

I’m not really a perfectionist – but will strive for perfection from the outset.

This does seem to work for me, too!

With motor racing, it could be the first time that budget gets in the way of my quest to perfect driving a car really quickly around a race track, and that might be tough to take.

So here’s to a big win on the Lottery!

Or maybe to picking up a sponsor who shares my kind of obsession?

My First Ever ‘Real’ Valentines Day (And Why I’m A Rubberhead)

My First Ever ‘Real’ Valentines Day (And Why I’m A Rubberhead)

Can you remember your first real Valentines Day – that one where you got something or gave something for the first time?

Our family has never done this crap where your Mum sends you a card.  Aside from hearing the ‘Deliverance’ banjo’s in my head even thinking about that, I suspect it cheapens real love and its meaning, and no doubt turns you into some cold selfish monster, with no appreciation of love from a partner.

Hehehe – how many readers has that lost me then??

Seriously though, the first time…

In the Summer holiday before I started Middle School (which made me 9), I met a girl who lived in my village, and fancied her straight away.  Her Dad raced karts, and she showed me her garage with his kart in – err, that sounds really bad!  Anyway, when I started school, I saw her again, but she was in a different class.  Being young and stupider, I admired her from afar, and never approached her.

A few years later, I finally spoke to her, and it turned out that wasn’t the same girl I’d met before school.  In fact, maybe I dreamed that whole thing, because I never saw a girl near that house again (and I rode past a lot on my bike that Summer!!!).  Spooky, but back to the point we must go:

It was the fourth and final year of Middle School when I finally plucked up some courage.  We were in the same class the year before and also for the fourth year, so I had spoken to her.  I used to piss her off and she’d smack me in the balls – it was true love!

I decided to use my Ninja skills and send her a Valentines Card.

I carefully cut all the letters I needed out of a newspaper, and like some kind of demented kidnapper, used sticky tape (we didn’t have glue) to put them all in an anonymous card.  It was probably something a little like this:

It seemed like a great idea at the time, ok?  It’s only looking back now that I’m surprised she didn’t report me to the Police!!!

I snuck the card into her desk unnoticed, and watched and waited as she discovered it and puzzled over who had sent it.

She didn’t know I had a major crush on her, and my friends knew even less!

Still, later in the day she confronted me with it.  She looked a bit surprised, but really happy with it (bet she’s into bondage and kidnapping fantasies now), and asked me to my face if I’d sent her it.

*groans*

And so I point-blank denied it!!!

I still kick myself for that today!  I was terrified at the thought of admitting that to her, so I didn’t!!!

Maybe she knew, maybe she didn’t… either way, I’m a -ing rubberhead.

A few months later she ended up with someone else at a school disco, and that was my first heartbreak….

A very hard lesson learned, as we went to different high schools, and I never saw her again – apart from one weird psychic dream incident that I saw her after, but was too shocked to speak to her and she never saw me…

7 years later I still thought and dreamed about her.  I like to think that after all that time, it taught me NEVER to sit and say nothing again.

Tell them!!!

Get out there, and send that girl or boy you fancy a Valentines Card – and SIGN IT from you!!!

What have you got to lose?  You’ll regret it if you don’t!

Umm, I wouldn’t recommend doing it in kidnapping style though… although… maybe there’s a great idea there for some ‘holding my heart hostage’ comment…

Hope you all have a great day, and send SOMEONE a card – it’ll make their day!

***Special Note***
The girl concerned in this is now a friend on Facebook.  This blog is actually a repost from a few years ago, and I DID come clean and even gave her the link to this blog!  She said she always suspected it was from me!

POEM: “Advent Calendar” by Jamz

Something a bit Christmassy seeing that all you Nobbers have been banging on about it since Halloween:

“Advent Calendar” by Jamz

I count down the days

To a Christmas alone,

When I thought I’d be with you.

How many windows did you open

And take a piece of my soul?

Do you even see the days anymore,

Or is each one a painful eternity

That you give sweetly to me?

Will you ever awaken

And see my ghost in your cold breath?

Or do you no longer sigh my name

In your selfish sleep?

Did you feel my Winter

When you reached out for me?

Then drew back your hand

And recoiled

Because I used to be your summer?

Merry Christmas.

28.11.03