4Okay, I've been in this position like. TWO years ago, or was it three? Wait. maybe FOUR years, and I am STILL stuck here. If anyone's got anything to add here, please do so, okay? This will be like a simple guide from all the crap mistakes I've ever made in the whole 'Girlfriend- boyfriend' relationship process. And those things that I've boggled over for the last couple of years. I've always wondered HOW can you tell if you're gay?
How can you tell if he likes you?
Is it possible to know if he wants you for sex or love? Is there such thing as love? Did fate bring the two of you together? Should you kill that lying-cheating-conniving-whore? What method would be best?
I don't have all the answers. I can't have that. Or else I'd be sitting up there in a cloud beside Buddha with my head all shiny because I had achieved ENLIGHTENMENT. Oh yeah, maybe when I lose my virginity, I'll tell you that, because they say that you can gain enlightenment through sex. I don't know if that's true either, but I sure as hell am gonna find out one day.
Okay, it started like this, for the guy portion it'll be like this. I was twelve and almost had sex with the FIRST guy I had a crush on, well partly because we're drunk and he was high and I stepped on twelve broken bottle and my feet were bleeding like crazy. It was raining in our campsite, we went on trip after our STUPID examinations, who's heard of this UPSR (which I failed miserably, I'd love to add, out of the brutal honest pill I took this morning) he looked so hot (to my twelve-year-old eyes).
We were both wet like baby ducks at the back of the chalet, we found a bottle in the boy's bathroom (don't ask what I was doing there) and we started to crack open them corks and down one by one, his friends had stashed those bottles away, we paid dearly for them later. He looked up at me, I had NEVER kissed a guy in my little short life, EVER and still am waiting, but he smiled at me with this charming smile, all his shining teeth and his bright brown eyes were looking down at me, we were about the same height at that time, his name is Matt, Matt Wong, I think and he's so damned cute. I mean like what the hell, right?
No big secret, we were crushing on each other more than hell could ever tell. But we never told each other. In the bathroom, we stood in a puddle of rain water, the toilet bowls were all out of order and my blood was rushing fast like this river of pain and it stained his blue Levi's bad. He picked me up from my feet and somehow carried me on top of this toilet bowl and we TRIED to kiss. Five and a half times, I counted. He got me smack on the head once, second time on my chin, third on my eyelids, the forth was the closest he got to my teeth, think and then the fifth time we crashed through the lid because we were too heavy.
Both of us were too pissed drunk to notice, but I think I might've mouthed those words, "I love you, damnit" but the next day, we so completely avoided each other, never spoke of that rainy evening in the boy's bathroom, Matt, if you ever do read this, I hope that you write back or something because I kinda miss you, not like I wanna screw you or anything, but you were my first love and oh well.. I always thought that I marry you. Isn't that sad? I had always thought that I was gonna marry him, damn, I even matched up my first name, Annabell to his Wong, so I got Annabell Wong.
We even had this sorta, KID NAMES going for us, he was gonna call his son Matthew, gee. what a character he was, Matthew Wong Chee Seng, he liked that name a lot and if we had a girl, I was gonna call her Jeanette or something classy like that, even though I've got a lot more names in mind now, other than Jeanette. I was gonna grow up and become this big-shot lawyer or journalist (don't wanna now, though). He wanted to become an architecht while I wanted to become some interior designer so we could work together. How did this end? It never even began.
Sigh.
Now, about the girl portion, I could go on and on with the guys OR the girls, so I'll just pick the one that I'd go SIGH on end. There is this other girl, Lilah, she's real pretty, even now, I swear to god, she's got this baby soft skin under my face and her tits are like HUGE, but whenever I hug her, I can still smell the perfume, oh god, her hair smelt of flowers, you know the sweet pink ones that never go bad unless you let them. But I can tell you, like all the roses, she's got them thorns. Then, she grew into this big balding cactus that kept shedding thorns on my soft head.
How do you tell if you're gay or not? You could go and do what I did, kiss her and then wonder if you're feeling icky inside. Or if you're still not satisfied, try to picture yourself eating her out. If you all grossed out, I guess you're not really cut out for it then. But maybe I'm just talking shit, being in love is nothing about how much you eat or how far your tongue sticks down her throat. Can you take the it that she loves you back? Or would you go out and ruin it the way I did.
This one is as wacky as the other. I woke up in bed with her and I completely forgot how. She kept on asking me this one question that drove me nuts and up the wall.
"Can we go shopping now?" in her high-pitched voice, she was angelic to me at first then it just started grating on my nerves.
I've always wondered why she wanted to sleep with me. Turns out that it was pretty much my fault. I made a bet with my friends that I'd get her into bed with me in less than a week. I tried all my stop-up shit. First was the wow-look-at-me-i-am-so-goddamned-athletic-compared-to-your- wuss-boyfriends. Cut my hair and worked on a killer smile, practiced it in front of the mirror, played my game and hey, I thought that she was getting up with me, she even came up to me after the game, basketball and kept on flicking her hair.
"Hey, you're great, you know that?" she flicked her hair and her smile was glued on my face, I was all stupid, 'gaw. gaw.. golly. gee.' was all I could say. "You're pretty great too," I managed to say, but it wasn't enough, who couldn't have guessed?
Then I tried attack number two, my violin. It never failed to snag anyone when I played Beatles songs on it. Most girls would faint and I'd carry them to bed with me and they'd wake up all happy, they'd even waste money and buy my Marlboro reds for me. Funny thing is, they'd do it. Even though they hate that habit. Yeah, ever since that toilet incident, I've got these two habits I just can't break. Chain-smoking and playing poker. Goddamnit, I rake a round with my friends, Josie, BoZo and Chez, we all do a round each night after math homework. Never stopped since I was twelve. I am pretty much older now, although it's a bit hard to tell.
After the poker rounds, I'd propose a toast, usually a new conquest each week, I'd usually take only about three days and when I win the night PLUS betting, guess how much of a bloody rich faggot I'd be? I can't say that she's the one that got away, because she didn't. Instead, after the violin shake didn't work, I thought that playing her the tango might work on my guitar, I have this love for music. But even THAT my most sacred, one-hundred percent failure proof shake didn't work, I was ready to give up till one day, she came up to me.
"I'm sorry about your dad," she touched my elbow and kissed my cheek in a friendly way. She was wearing a black tight dress so it was a bit hard to take it that way. But why was she sorry? I never asked.
I did start this rumor that my dad was dying from gangrene as a practical joke, but I never knew that it would get out till HER EARS
"I'm okay," I just said that, my dad was fine, happy as a clown and never better. "I'm here for you, if you need me," she said. "And I will be waiting," I said and then, she just clamped my lips down with hers.
Scared the hell out of me.
"I got five million dollars now," I said to her with a wink, trying to see what was up with her. "I know," she kissed me once more and pulled me onto her body in the staffroom, her mom was a teacher and she was locking up the place. "Whatcchu wanna do now, huh?" her long fingernails were all over my face, touching my hair and her hot body was pressed against mine. "I want you," she said and god knows what happened, I pooled all my money together, broke my piggybank and that night itself, I called her and told her to meet me at a bus stop. We were going to spend a night in some place better than my ratty bedroom.
I had promised her a million dollars to get her in bed with me. And she believed me.
The night was AMAZING, though. It blew my mind. She was on top of me, tearing my clothes into pieces, she was mad. But then, the next day, she got up and started screaming. "What the hell are you doin here?" she asked me, staring at the ceiling of our Grand Seasons hotel room. "Screwing you," I said with a grin as I lit my Marlboro. "Shut up, you cunt, what are you doing here?" she asked me as she got up, and fastened her clothes back on. "Hey, you were the one that wanted to come here and all," I said, she picked the damned hotel. "You want to go shopping now?" she asked me. "Huh?" "I said, DO YOU WANT TO GO SHOPPING NOW?" she asked me, she set BOTH of my ten-dollar bills on fire yesterday because she wanted me to prove that I was a millionaire rich bastard. "I'm kinda broke," I mumbled. "Aren't you inheriting a million dollars?" she screeched. "Guess not," I said.
Next week, I got three HUNDRED different hate-mails and my pictures were all scrawled on the internet with the words, "Liar, Liar Pants on Fire" she even stole my pants home and burned it on WebCam. I had to go home in a waitress's pants.