Adventures in Speed Dating

A couple of the clubs on my campus were hosting a speed dating night for people who would be single and unhappy about it on Valentine's Day.  I've never been to speed dating before and I thought it could really be fun.  I paid no nevermind to the fact that people went there actually trying to find dates.  I just went there to make friends, a detail I never actually revealed to any of my three-minute dates.

The event was held on the third floor of the Union, which was purposely unlit to "set the mood."  I was the first one to arrive, so after pinning a #1 on my shirt I entered the dark, loud room where I could barely see the chair I was supposed to sit in.  I could barely see the faces of any of my dates and had to strain to hear some of them.  To break the ice we were given a somewhat unimaginative list of questions to ask our dates.  What's your favorite book?  Movie?  TV show?  Album?  What's the best weekend you've had this semester?

Some guys were really cool about the experience, while others delved into awkward or obnoxious territory.  One date that I had started off by advertising his club and how great it is to be involved in it.  He was one of the club members hosting the event, acting as a fill-in date given the uneven number of guys and chicks there were.  I was kind of upset that half of my dates were fill-ins.  In consequence, I never got a chance to have a date with half of the guys who showed up because they actually wanted to.  I could tell that one of my fill-ins batted for the other team.  Another fill-in clearly wasn't interested in the event, and another told me at the end of our date that he'd have sex with me.  And he started off being so friendly too.

Although I did have dates with mostly club members, I found that they were the best to talk to.  One of my other dates was a real jerk, and I mean he was worse than the guy who told me he'd have sex with me.  He took a seat in the chair across from me, laid back and said, "You're my last date for the night, so you should feel honored that I chose you."  Cue polite laughter.  "I've already answered all of the questions on that list a hundred times, so fire away or come up with your own."  This guy smelled of douchebaggery.  He was high on himself and acted like he had been forced into this situation.  He embodied everything I hated about the guys at my old school.  Realizing this, I tried everything I could to make him feel uncomfortable.  Sheepishly I asked, "What underwear have you got on?"  Oh how innocent I looked with my rosy cheeks and blonde hair.  I bet he never expected that one to come out of my mouth.  But just when I thought I'd had him he answered without hesitation.  "Fruit of the loom.  No one, not my roommate, not people at the gym, not myself, no one will catch me in a pair of tidey whities."  Imagine that.  He gloated about his underwear.  How proud could this asshole be about that?

"What's the craziest thing you've ever done?" I asked.

"I did Edward 40-hands."  Oh yes, so crazy.  Because no one, I mean NO ONE drinks.  Like, ever.  Because that's just wrong.  Just to show him up I told him about the mock porno I was in.  And this loser thought HE was crazy.  Ha!  Not a chance in hell he was crazy, not compared to me.  I've done things.  I've seen things... And yes, that I just wrote that jokingly, but there is also a lot of truth in it.  But the thing I've learned over the years is that those who brag about how wild they are, actually aren't.  It's like when people tell you how much sex they have, just to cover up the fact that they're not actually getting any.    

Perhaps I was going in the wrong direction with my line of questioning.  This was a guy who would answer even the most embarrassing question with absolutely no shame at all. I needed to ask questions about his personal life.  That was sure to make him want to get up and leave.  I scanned the list I was given to pick out the right question.  "What are you looking for in a girlfriend?"  Judging by the squished up face he made I had succeeded in my mission.  "Alright, that's way too personal.  But I guess I'd have to say I don't want someone whose a shut-in.  I don't want some girl who sits home at night.  I need someone who goes out and experiences things, and exposes themselves to things."  Because nothing says love like doing a couple of lines of cocaine, right?  I'm pretty sure that's what he meant.  Or doing anal.  Either way, I'm not interested.  I was all too happy when our date was over, because I was seriously about to kick him out of his chair.

All in all, I had a rocking time speed dating.  I got to experience something new, met a prospective friend, and got to talk about Mr. Douchebag with my roommates after it was all over.  Was it worth three bucks?  Probably not.  But it made me remember why I like being by myself.

Forever the honest,
Stephanie Lato

Your Caffeine Addiction

I was up all last night, feeling like I was going to throw up because I once again ruined my stomach with an energy drink.  I was wearing sea bands, drank Pepto straight from the bottle, and sat up in bed at a 45 degree angle, and still had a plastic container by my bed because I thought I was going to toss my cookies.  I knew that I shouldn't have had an energy drink because there is literally nothing good in them, but I was so dead tired that I couldn't imagine myself making it through the day if I didn't.  I spent all this week running around here and there, going to club meetings, running errands, going to classes, and going to the library.  Sleep alone wasn't cutting it anymore so I shoved $2 into the vending machine to get a Full Throttle, and, hell, I was so ready to go!  

...Until...

I got a stomach ache before a club GIM.  Being the stubborn and determined young woman that I am, I swallowed two Tylenol and dragged my butt down the hill, to the union for a 2 hour long meeting.  I was doing pretty well.  The Tylenol was working its magic.  

...But then...

I felt really woozy on the way back up the hill to my apartment.  Was it just the walk?  The fact that I hadn't sat down in a couple of hours?  Was it because I hadn't eaten more than Cheez-its and some Toaster Strudel all day?  I collapsed onto my bed, sweating, and decided to boycott homework for the night so I could get to bed early.  Well that didn't happen.  I was up until 2am, wanting to throw up.  All because I didn't want to be tired.  My caffeine addiction has started...AGAIN!

Last semester I had either an energy drink, a coffee, or a caffeinated tea in my hand multiple times a day.  My stomach was always making the funny noises that stomachs make when they're trying to digest bubbles.  I always had a stomach ache and I so often felt like throwing up.  Energy drinks are the Devil!  They're tempting, but evil.  And the worst of all...

...Drum roll please...

NOS.  Whatever that stands for.  It literally made me think that my illnesses were acting up again.  But at the same time, it made me feel so incredibly alert.  It was like taking stimulants.  I was running around like the fricking road runner, meep meep meep meep MEEP!  But at the same time, it probably made my insides bleed.  Like right now I think I have an ulcer.  Not from NOS, but another energy drink.  Still, energy drinks are as good for you as gasoline.  So before you shove $2 into a vending machine for a cheap fix, get a coffee instead, or a caffeinated tea.  Studies are starting to show that there is a possible link between coffee and not developing Alzheimers.  It may give you diarrhea, but at least it's not giving you cancer, like energy drinks are probably doing.  Let's face it, energy drinks are fairly new.  There aren't any studies yet linking my theory to cancer developments because everyone who drinks them is in college, but I think it's a good theory.  And don't forget, it's never a bad idea to get a little more sleep.  If you have an 8:30 class and you have plans to smoke weed and watch Pixar movies until 5am, you should probably sleep instead.  It's super embarrassing to fall asleep in class!

Forever the honest,

Stephanie Lato

Why Winter Rocks

The 24-hour snowstorm just started and I'm pumped!  I know everyone hates the snow, and the ice (as do I), and the cold.  People get bummed because they can't go out and party or because they have to dig their cars out or have to make the trek in the snow to class because their professor is the Devil and decided not to cancel lecture.  I'll give you a few reasons to love winter that just may change your perspective in the so called "inclement weather."

1) Snow covers the dirt:
          After all the leaves fall off of the trees the ground is covered in decaying matter, the trees are naked, and for whatever reason there's mud everywhere.  Salt covers everyone's car and everyone's black boots.  But snow covers all of it, at least for a little while, renewing nature's beauty.

2) No public nudity:
          In the warmer seasons people wear, well, a whole lot less than they should.  You get to see every man's hairy armpits and everyone's sore, sunburned bodies, and everyone's bare feet.  People are sweating and squinting in the sun and wearing obnoxiously bright colors that hurt your eyes even more.  Frequently, tourists in my town will disregard the no shirt, no shoes, no service rule, and walk into stores and restaurants with bare feet, and nothing on their bare bottom except for a very tiny swimsuit.  Let us also not forget speedos, the creator of which should have been imprisoned.  In the winter not only is everyone covered up, but everyone seems, well, more fashionable!  Layered looks and knee-high boots are a personal favorite.  I'm also a sucker for guys in sweaters.  There's just something about being snuggly warm that is oh so tempting.  Outerwear is also an addiction of mine.  I am a coat connoisseur, indulging in wool and faux furs.

3) Snowballs
          See someone nearby who you don't like?  Throw a snowball at them, put your hood up, and run in the other direction!

4) Snow is a show
          Like fire, snow is mesmerizing.  It's so pretty and you can scarecely take your eyes off of it when it's falling.  My mother told me of a vacation she took with my father when they had just gotten married.  They went up to a cabin during the Superbowl weekend (neither of my parents follow sports) and just watched the snow fall.  It's the most romantic thing I've ever heard, and a magical moment I want to share with the love of my life.
          Also, from certain places around your campus you can look out the window and watch everyone fall on their butts when it all ices over!  Cheap thrills, I know.

5) Hot cocoa.  Need I say more?

Forever the honest,
Stephanie Lato

The Dreaded "C" Word

Everybody knows what I'm talking about when I say the "C" word.  To avoid putting anybody off, I won't spell it all out.  But if you really can't figure out what I'm trying to say, I'll give you a hint.  It has four letters.  C***.  I was probably in the ninth grade when I heard it for the first time.  Me and my girlfriends were watching a lovely little movie filled with all sorts of horrid scenarios called "Welcome to the Dollhouse."  I didn't know what it meant when I heard it, but judging by my girlfriend's reactions I knew it was bad.

I spent the next few months thinking that c*** was an insult equivalent to bitch, but times a thousand.  Therefore, I never used it.  But once I found out that it actually meant vagina, I thought, "so how is that a bad thing, then?"  And still, years later, I don't understand why it is as bad a word as people think it is.  Isn't it just the equivalent of p*ssy?  I guess not, though.  Most young women take such offense to that word that they prefer it not to even be spoken around them.  They can't even fathom uttering the word themselves.  I can say that I've said c*** before, as casually and comfortably as any other curse word I've said in the past.  Normally people are okay with my trucker mouth, but the moment I say c*** all eyes drop to the floor.

In my lit class the other day the professor uttered the word out of context.  We had to read a few particularly raunchy poems about premature ejaculations and acts of sexual reciprocation, a discussion of which no one can fathom having with his or her professor.  As the professor read selected lines to dissect the word c*** came up quite a few times.  I was sitting in the back row, so I could not see other people's reactions to the word, but I'm guessing the word did not sit so well with everyone.  But what I found so interesting about this poem was that it was written, I believe, in the 1600s.  Was it solely the context of an erotic poem that made the word acceptable?  Or did it become an insult over time?  I guess my question in, why is it an insulting word today?  Why are women so devastated when they are called a c***?  If it is truly insulting, is it not the equivalent of calling a man a d***?  I've heard no, no it's worse.  But why?  Why is it worse to be called a female sex organ than a male sex organ?  Are both not areas of pleasure and peculiarity?  Perhaps my failure to be insulted by the word makes me an exception.  Maybe it is everyone else who is right to find the word upsetting, and I am just being strange by not thinking so.  Maybe, but I don't find many curse words insulting.  Except motherf*****.  Now there's a word deserving of disgust.  It is coincidentally also my favorite curse word.

Forever the honest,
Stephanie Lato

Comparative Foundations

For years I've been trying to find the right foundation for my skin.  I've been wearing makeup since the 8th grade and have tried at least ten different foundations.  The ones that covered up my acne or acne scars made me break out, powders failed to provide the right amount of coverage, and many brands did not have the correct shade for my skin tone.  Below is a list of just some of the foundations I've tried, their prices, my rating for them, and are in no specific order.  Enjoy!

Paula Dorf Perfect Glo Foundation $45: 4 stars
Though expensive, this foundation is a very light, smooth, cream foundation that is oil free and never dried out my skin.

 Neutrogena Healthy Skin Liquid Makeup about $12: 5 stars
My top rated drug store foundation.  Neutrogena makeup is probably the best makeup you can get at a drug store.  None of it will feel heavy or be harmful to your skin.  

Neutrogena Microclear about $12: 2 stars
Although this makeup was weightless and provided great coverage it dried out the parts of my skin that weren't broken out.

Clinique Even Better foundation $27: 5 stars
I wore this foundation for a very long time.  It lightened a lot of the scarring on my face and didn't make me break out.  I only switched foundations because the sales rep suggested it provided too much coverage for me.

Clinique Acne Solution $27: 4 stars
Again, another really great foundation by Clinique.  Great for frequent breakouts, but can be a little too drying in the winter.

Clinique Perfectly Real Makeup $27: 5 stars
This is my current foundation that provides the most natural looking coverage I've ever gotten from makeup.  What's great about all Clinique foundations is that theres a shade that matches my skin tone perfectly, which is a lot more difficult to match than you'd think.

 Paula Dorf Liquid foundation $42: 4 stars
This is just like the first foundation on the list, but in a true liquid and not a cream.  Great coverage.  Don't let the price push you away.  There's twice as much foundation in this bottle than what you'd get at the drug store, making it actually not too much more expensive than what you're already buying.  

Almay Smart Shade Makeup  around $10: 1 star
Covered absolutely nothing.

Covergirl Clean Oil Control Makeup  around $7: 2 stars
Plenty of coverage, but very heavy to wear and leaves behind a very strong, unusual smell.   It also did not control the oils on my face as far as I could tell.   

L'Oreal Paris True Match Roller around $15: 1 star
This is the same formula as the regular True Match foundation.  The roller does not actually enhance the look of the makeup. 

Revlon Photo Ready Foundation around $11: 1 star
Very heavy to wear and does not look airbrushed as advertised.  

L'Oreal Paris True Match around $9: 1 star
Despite its name I could not find a color that matched my skin tone.  It comes in various shades in categories called Warm, Cool, and Neutral.  I have no idea what that even means and I don't believe many women will know which category their skin fits into.  I wore this makeup twice before I got the worst breakout of my life.  I looked so bad that this foundation could not cover my pimples.  I was so embarrassed that I would not have gone to school if I had not had a final exam.  This clogs pores, makes skin oily, and is heavy to wear. 

Proactiv Creme Foundation around #25: 3 stars
Descent amount of coverage, however there is so little foundation in one compact that it is hardly worth the buy

Bare Minerals Loose Powder $27: 3 stars
This balances the skin's oils, but I am not the biggest fan of powder foundations, especially loose powders.  It makes a big mess.  

Forever the honest,
Stephanie Lato

Baby Making for Dummies

I lost touch with a hell of a lot of people when I graduated high school, but thanks to Facebook I have the creepy ability to check up on them whenever I get curious.  What I came across was alarming.  Four of my girlfriends already have children.  One of my former friends is married, another engaged.  Even though I'm not into the whole premarital giving birth thing, and even though I assume these girlfriends of mine had to drop out of college, I feel as though I'm behind the curve somehow.

Though I wouldn't have a baby at this point in my life, I find myself wondering why others do.  Was it irresponsibility?  Do they not believe in abortion?  Or did they really feel like they wanted to bare and raise a child?  I have conflicting views about this.  I respect the courageousness of these young women to be willing to raise a child out of wedlock and sacrifice certain things in order to raise the baby.  That takes guts and that takes work.  While I admire their determination I feel that I'm also conflicted with their decision.  At age 21 I am not ready to raise a child, since I am still learning how to take care of myself.  I've also put a hell of a lot of time, money, and energy into college, and I would hate for that to be compromised in any way.  When I found out some of them were pregnant I felt bad for them at first. To me it was an "oops!" moment, an unfortunate little surprise.

I'm not saying these women are bad people or bad mothers, nor would I ever wish that upon them.  I am not saying that their choice was the wrong choice either.  Just because their choice isn't right for me doesn't mean that it wasn't right for them.  I just can't help but wonder.  Most people my age are in the mindset to earn a college degree and are terrified about not having the proper qualifications to get a job.  But these women have found their happiness without that.  Society still frowns upon their deviancy from the norm, and I'll admit that I dont understand their choice either.  But I wonder why we have such a tendency to look down upon those people?  It surely can't be because we think they're lazy.  Raising a baby is a lot of work.  Just ask your mother.  But why are these women cast in a somewhat negative light and why at the same time do I feel like I'm missing out on something?  I guess I won't know until I have one of those little monkeys running around, myself.  Though not just yet.  I'm not exactly into that at this moment.

What age should we have children?  Society says when you're married, but even early marriage has its stigmas.  People tend to look down upon women who have children too young, and sympathize with women who want children but can't because they are middle aged.  Society says it is appropriate to have a child once you have established a career for yourself.  It is only when you are successful that you are permitted to have children, guilt free.  But before then, you're only seen to have an "oops" moment.

Forever the honest,
Stephanie Lato

A Story of Everything and Nothing

Valentine's Day is coming up and I want to take the time now to talk about something I buried deep inside.  It's the story of my first love.  I no longer love this boy.  I won't even give him a name because he doesn't deserve one.  I am no better with the things that I've done for him, for love.  I only pray when reading this, you as a reader will not make the same mistakes as me.  This is a story about loss.  About losing my faith in people, losing my mind, and ultimately losing myself.  I write this story with no passion, not even of the hateful sort, because I feel nothing for him anymore.  Not even hate.  Not even dislike.  I feel nothing.  

This is a story about a boy named Q.  I can't even give the real first letter of his name because giving him even that would be too painful.  Q was...the most beautiful boy I had seen in high school.  He was my best friend.  He had a girlfriend and I understood we would not be together.  For a while I was fine with receiving only friendship from him, and oh what a great friendship it was.  I trusted him with everything, ever little bit of information concerning my life.  When I was excited about something I told him.  When I was upset he was always the one I turned to.  On prom night I called him up crying and he stayed on the phone with me until 5 am.  That was the first time we admitted that we liked each other.  I was so sure it was only a crush that I didn't think much of it.  I had only gotten my first kiss when I was 17, and after so many years of going unnoticed by guys I was somewhat used to having affections for someone who wouldn't return them.  

We spent the whole summer talking.  I was excited about a boy named C who I met at my college orientation.  The two of them were so much alike that I knew me and C were going to be fast friends.  I told Q all of this, which he didn't seem to like very much.  He was concerned for me.  He knew I was a virgin and he didn't want me to rush into anything with this guy.  He was also afraid of losing me.  He felt that C would replace him and we'd lose contact with each other.  This and more we talked about.  We called each other every single night that summer, getting to know more about each other, cracking jokes, and sharing things we'd never shared with another living soul.  We trusted each other.  That meant so much to me because I never thought I could trust anyone.  Growing up, feeling like you're different than everyone else will do that to you.  Everyone wants to know what you have to say only because they want to hold it against you later.  But I never for an instant felt that way with Q.  He made me feel safe.  He made me feel normal. 

Q and I were spending more and more time together.  We went to a car show, along with his girlfriend, his sister, and his friend.  He told me how nice I looked that night, though via text so his girlfriend would not know.  I liked his girlfriend.  I had met J at prom and from what little I knew of her upon meeting her I told Q how cool I thought she was.  I truly did like her.  What I didn't know was that she did not like me.  

I drove to Q's house one afternoon, just to say hi.  As he went in to hug me goodbye I felt a wave of excitement and anxiety wash over me.  He was leaning in, but not to hug me.  I could feel the kiss coming and was too stunned to move.  At the last second he turned so the kiss turned into a mere hug.  I didn't know what to feel.  I was frightened by the prospect of being "the other woman" but I found myself blushing all the same.  We texted about it later, but in such an oddly casual way.  Later on the phone he urged me again to not be with C when I went to college.  "Before I leave I was planning on..." I stopped myself to try and convince myself to not say what I was thinking.  "I was planning on just walking up to you and kissing you."  I couldn't even hear his breathing on the other end.  I thought for a second I had blown it.  I cursed myself inside, wishing I had a rewind button.  It was one thing for me to share that I had a crush on him and a completely different thing to tell him I intended on acting on it.  Stupid, stupid me.  But before I could beat myself up too badly I heard him say, "Okay."  That one word, clear as day, and just as sure.  Okay.  

Kissing him was one of the greatest moments of my life.  It was hot out, and rainy.  We sat nervously in my car, making small talk to either ease our way into the kiss or delay it, I'm not sure which.  He kissed me like he missed me all his life, like we had been in love all our lives and had never known it before.  I only dreamed of this moment, running my fingers through his brown hair, trailing my fingers along his damp shirt.  I had never been touched before, and was terrified of it up until this point.  If he had made a move to touch me I would have let him.  I would have given him everything and more because I was already in love with him.  

Three months went by.  I went to college and things didn't work out between me and C.  Not at all.  We made out one time and then he ignored me, even though we had a class together.  I had gone through disappointment after disappointment.  Q was disappointed as well.  He and J were having a lot of trouble.  She got into fights with him over the slightest things and broke up with him for a few hours for what seemed like an almost daily basis.  He told me it was killing him and I couldn't stand to hear that.  I missed him.   I didn't want him to hurt anymore.  

When Thanksgiving break rolled around I could hardly contain my excitement.  When I came home I found a bouquet of roses on the seat of my car.  "Smile.  I missed you."  I cried when I read the card.  It was the first bouquet I had ever gotten from a guy.  I was so excited that I had to see him that night.  Q drove us down to the beach, cloudy and cold though it was.  He gave me his jacket and kissed me so deeply that I could have drowned in the love I felt.  He broke apart for a moment to say, "I love you."  Tears welled up in my eyes.  "I love you too."

Things...didn't work out the way I wanted them to.  Q promised he would break up with J for me, but after three weeks of waiting I told him I wouldn't wait anymore.  It was tearing me up inside.  I felt like his little secret who he wanted only for excitement.  Whenever I asked him why he hadn't broken up with J he gave me some obscure reason.  "Breaking up is a process."  Or "I slipped on the ice today and hit my head really hard."  I believed him at first because I needed to.  But after awhile I delivered my response.  "I can't wait anymore."  It was meant to be an ultimatum, but he didn't see it that way and continued dating J.  I could have died.  

I received a lot of nasty text messages and phone calls from J.  She hadn't known about me and Q but she didn't like the fact that we spoke so frequently.  She even dyed her hair blonde like me, convinced that her boyfriend wanted me.  I was constantly berated with hateful, hurtful things that Q did not make any motion to stop.  I complained about it to him.  I begged him to make her stop.  All he told me to do was to let her say what she had to say and that there was nothing that he could do.  His sister even did the same thing, though only once or twice.  

I lost my virginity in November of 2010, grateful that I did not lose it to Q, though both of us always thought he'd be the one to take it.  It was dangerous nevertheless, because now that I had entered the world of sex, there was mentally nothing holding me back from sleeping with him when our friendship strengthened again.  

It was late March, 2011.  He had just broken up with J (for good), though we made plans to sleep with each other before then.  For the life of me I can't remember why.  I just remember the pain of it, and how utterly unloved I felt the whole time.  I told him how I felt and he assured me that he loved me, that it went without saying.  Still, I could feel no love in any of it.  I wasn't turned on at all, but I somehow knew that this was the only opportunity I had to have sex with him.  I don't know how I knew.  But I just did.  So we had sex, painful and emotionless though it was.  I couldn't even bring myself to look at his...at all.  Not even a glance.  I know now that I wasn't in love with him any longer, that he had hurt me too much.  The reason why I wanted to have sex with him was because I was fond of the memory I had of loving him.  It seems silly to not know the difference, but I didn't.  Not then.  That was why I wanted to date him.  Maybe finally having an official, exclusive relationship would fix my feelings for him.  I wasn't going to bring it up right after we had sex, so as not to scare him off.  But it turns out I shouldn't have waited.  Two weeks later he started dating someone else.  Someone he had even told me he thought was ugly.  He had started dating her right after I told him that I thought I was pregnant.  

I was ashamed that I had had unprotected sex.  I was on the pill, but I know from experience to expect the worst when it comes to medication being effective.  I got a very, unusually light period.  I had never had one so light before, even on the pill.  My breasts hurt.  I did not think this meant pregnancy at the time, but things started coming together in my mind.  I told Q I thought I was pregnant and went out to buy a test, which was a mortifying experience on its own.  I was so embarrassed that I drove 20 minutes further than my nearest pharmacy just in case I bumped into anyone I knew at my local one.  I took both tests and an error occurred on both.  I peed on them too much.  Perfect!  I was unable to deny my pregnancy to Q, which I told him.  Yet he started dating a different girl anyway.  He said that since I never brought up the prospect of a relationship after sex he got the hint that I didn't want one.  

Q didn't have the balls to tell me about his new relationship himself.  I found out over facebook, and that night drank myself completely drunk.  I was on an antidepressant, another one of Q's little unwanted gifts to me, and after three shots of vodka I forgot.  I only remembered when I was stinking drunk.  I thought I was going to die, so I called Q to tell him goodbye.  He didn't answer.  I called him more times than I could remember, left more messages than I could remember, and texted him more times than I can remember, telling him all of this, and still he did not answer.  

Obviously, I did not die.  It was an overreaction.  Instead I spent the whole next day in bed, nauseous and depressed.  And for whatever reason Q and I still remained friends after that.  Looking back on it I feel stupid.  He gave me the biggest metaphorical slap in the face so many times and I kept giving him more chances.  

One night when I was home on break, Q texted me that was having suicidal thoughts.  He didn't pick up his phone when I called him, didn't answer my texts.  I got in my car and drove into his town, looking all over for his car.  I drove around his street, neighboring streets, his friend's house, the spot where we had sex, everywhere I could think to look before ultimately going to his house to tell his father.  If anyone has a friend who expresses suicidal thinking, I would advise not doing what I did.  I would advise calling the police immediately.  What I did was stupid, but I knew that if I called the police and he was actually fine then his father would kill him.  It's a stupid reason, but my not yet fully developed teenage mind found logic in my thinking.  I told his father I was worried about him.  He asked me if I thought he was suicidal, and just before I could answer he texted me saying he was at his new girlfriend's house and that everything was okay.  

One day I received a message from his new girlfriend.  I can't even remember what it was or via which technological devise it was.  All I remember was that it was very much like the nasty remarks J had said to me time and time again.  Q and I were on thin ice with each other.  He had wounded me so much that it hurt to talk to him.  But what could I do?  He was my best friend.  Our friendship ended for good October 2011.  We were messaging on Skype and he sent me a youtube link for a Snow Patrol song, with a comment that said, "Our song."  It wasn't our song.  It was his and his new girlfriend's.  I told him to never speak to me again.  

I thought about talking to him for a few months after the Skype incident.  It hurt not talking to him, but I knew I would hurt even more if I did.  After a while I began to feel happier, more level headed, and started to think more clearly.  I was such a fool.  I wasted years loving him, letting some great opportunities to be happy pass me by.  All I got out of it in the end was sorrow.  I got complete and total joylessness for two years and he got a fiancee.  

I'm older now and wiser than I was back then.  Looking back on it I can remember how in love I thought I was and realized how I actually wasn't.  I knew nothing about love back then.  I didn't know passion.  I didn't know what it was like to be a part of someone else's life, nor did I know how to let someone be part of mine.  I was foolish, like most teenagers are.  I try to live my life with as few regrets as possible, but Q was the biggest regret of all.  I regret every moment of my time I dedicated to talking to him, spending time with him, or thinking about him.  I should have never given myself to someone so underserving, and I should have never thought that I was special when I was with him.  I thought that being the other woman made me special, but I was a fool to think that way.  I hate what I did and feel so utterly guilty about it, even if his girlfriend was a b*tch.  I went through high school feeling so undesirable, so unwanted, that I was all too quick to fall for someone.  Q.  My best friend.  My everything and now my nothing.  

Forever the honest,

Stephanie Lato