I don't use this journal to discuss My Real Life much. I set up this one up to discuss my writing because I'm what others have called "prolific" in updating. A few years ago, another journal I keep was getting out of control with life stuff and writing stuff mixed together. I could never find the entries when I was looking for something specific. I decided to split things up, and it's been really helpful to me. There is still some overlap though. The thing I'm about to write about probably belongs in the other journal, but it does loosely relate to my writing, so I thought I'd put it here instead. The Backstory: I lost my virginity one of the last weeks of my junior year to my boyfriend who was also a virgin. It was a decision that we made and planned and I was happy with it. I was ready. But then there was a bunch of drama and ridiculousness afterward. We went to a private religious school and he started feeling guilty, like what we'd done was a sin. We never did have sex after that one time, and he ended up breaking up with me that summer using the excuse that we'd "grown apart."

By the time our senior year started, somehow everyone knew we'd had sex. That made me a big slut. You think I'm exaggerating here. You think teens aren't like that in this day and age. Well, in 1994-95 at my school, they certainly were. Not all of it was hellfire type of judging, but oh, the rumors! Suddenly, there were stories about me screwing all these guys at school whom I'd never even spoken to. And if they weren't saying I was screwing them, they were saying I wanted to be screwing them. Because that's what I was all about, you understand.

Here's a fun example: Early in the school year, I got into a very minor car accident with a stranger in town. He didn't have insurance and when I told him that I wouldn't go to the cops about it (because I was a total pushover!), he was so happy, he put his arms around me and gave me a rough kiss. It was very creepy and I told a few friends about my trauma. That story spread around as me getting in a wreck with a stranger and then having sex with him on his backseat.

Somehow, while all this rumor crap was going on for me, I kind of started seeing a kind of popular guy, I'll call C. We went to a school banquet thing (as "friends"). We made out afterward. Then he told me that my reputation was too scandalous and that he didn't want anyone to know we were seeing each other because it would be bad for his polital career. (Yes, for real. He really said that.)

Despite how offended I was that he said that to me, the situation still went on for a good portion of the school year, and it was messed up. I was messed up. And even though I couldn't stand him anymore, it still bothered me that he thought so little of me. He asked out other girls who had more wholesome personas - and made sure everyone knew he'd asked them out - but nothing serious ever happened with any of them. I was the one he'd call me when he was bored or lonely or horny. And I'd go. Because I was bored and lonely and horny, too, really. (We never had sex. Never even came close, actually, but there was a lot of kissing and stuff. The truth is, I only had sex the one time while I was in high school. Kind of ironic, I always thought.)

The actual point of this entry: I haven't seen C since 1999 (when he actually had the nerve to try to pick up where things had left off in high school), but one of his best friends happens to be one of my best friends, too. Our friend, Matt, told me that C was home for the holidays and started reminiscing about his relationship with me and about how things used to be with us. In his mind, we had this, like, desperate love affair. He refers to me as his "ex-girlfriend." The whole thing is amazingly offensive to me (but a little amusing since I've had many years to come to terms with what happened). Back then, I would have been so grateful if he'd have told someone I was his girlfriend because, even though I thought he was a bastard, I still wanted him to think I was good enough for him.

Oh, and in case you're wondering, this relates to my writing because one of my female characters in THE FAKE MCCOY has a reputation for being promiscuous. Some of what people believe about her is true. (She's no one-time-sex haver!) Some isn't. She's in a situation where she's messing around with some popular guy in secret and using my protaganist to try to make the other guy jealous and to try to get the other guy to admit that he wants to be with her. It's been somewhat therapeutic to write this storyline because even though I never did most of the stuff she does, it's still similar in other ways. I understand why she's doing what she's doing and why she feels the way she does. And the thing I love most about it is getting to choose a different outcome for her.