How will we do it?

[As copied from a short note between myself and an early girlfriend circa this date. Names have been modified to protect the shy.]

[Jane Doe]: If we are pregnant... How will we do it? [written in futhark]

[Me]: Then the most likely event that will happen is that we will become parents. [written in english]

Mistake #1

[As copied from a calendar, written by one of my early girlfriends in futhark on this date.]

B-ham

condom broke...child?

I hope you enjoyed last night.

[As copied from a letter addressed to one of my early girlfriends. Names have been changed to protect the shy.]

Good morming, my love. I hope you enjoyed last night. I know I did. Although I did all the work and you did nothing but enjoy, it felt (to me) as though an incredible force was emanating from you... I felt my entire body become drained of all energy... ...that has never happened before...

I am so satisfied... I could go a week w/o complaints after a night like yesterday's. Thank you for allowingme inside of you. Thank you for inviting me over.

I'm still not sure what was the best for me. Without the condom felt really good,, but with it, I got to hit orgasm inside of you... Orgasm feels extraordinarily great if its [sic] inside of you, but the condom reduces the pleasure to a point where I can say that I enjoyed it w/o the condom a bit better...

I thought the role-playing thing was pretty cool. It makes making loves to you so much more interesting, in at least one way. No matter how I take you, however, making love to you is utter enjoyment...

As you lay there, helpless and tired, I watched your eyes -- your face...it was dark, but I still remember the details... Your head was first turned to my right, and your eyes closed, heavy with want for sleep. And I picked your legs up and moved you, as I entered again and again, feeling the inside of you; exploring your inner depths... And you turned your head to my left, still just as sleepy... I thought you would pass out any second. Some time later, I wanted to explode inside of you very extremely badly... I moved with a rhythm, speed, and direction that was purely for my enjoyment. Once I started doing it for me, my body tensed and got superhot and I pushed into you with a gentle strength that I felt pulsating through my body... Soon I felt myself about to give out, because I kept holding back as I entered -- but now it was too much-my pleasure was going to shoot from me and cover you so completely and my happiness would have soared so high that I would not have been able to hold back from screaming and yelling... and I pulled out of you.

Can you imagine?

You were meant for me... Or was I meant for you?

[The below entry was not written by me. It is from a portion of a journal entry that was written by one of my early girlfriends. Names have been modified to protect the shy.]

The threads that hold your life together are woven by the choices that you do not even think about making for yourself. Often, those threads are the imposed expectations that society has painted for us since our earliest ages. The threads that were holding my life together during my seventeenth autumn were the hopes of love. I had met a younger man, if he should be called a man. He was fifteen; I was seventeen. We met on a bus going to play with a band at a football game. I was the flutist, he the drummer.

"I'm [Jane Doe]," I said nervously, astounded that this very handsome teenage guy with exotic eyes and John Travolta's smile would have chosen to sit by me when there were so many other seats available.

"I'm Eric," was his reply. It was thoughtful but yet distant, just as our relationship would prove to be.

The first time he called me was New Year's Day. It was getting pretty late in the evening. Mom answered the phone and told me that it was for me. When I heard Eric's voice on the line, my heart skipped a beat for about two hours. He told me about his dog and his life.

He called me, and I called him. For that whole month of January, we talked and talked. We grew closer and closer, escaping to the library (where we were sometimes kicked out for Eric making me laugh so hard!)

Some time between the night of February the first and February the second, we proclaimed that were officially going steady. We both confessed to liking each other.

We were walking together,and he started to walk very quickly. I asked him to wait up a second. He said that, if I wanted to walk with him, I better hurry and that he didn't wait for anyone.

The cruel emotional abuse was all that I could stand . I only called him about thirty doxen more times. No
matter ho extreme the [sic]

Everyone was staring at me on the ferry at the so-called happiest place on the earth. Disney World paralleled to the Titanic in that the happiest place can quickly become the worst place to be.

I called him once more. He said that he was busy. I never called him again. Months later, when I had a job at a video staore, he came in to talk to me. I treated him like a complaete stranger, but with politeness that I swould show the average customer. I looked at him blankly and said, "Do you need any help?" He looked annoyed and did not respond.

A Girl's First Date

[The below entry was not written by me. It is from a portion of a journal entry that was written by one of my early girlfriends. Names have been modified to protect the shy.]

There I was. I was seventeen and out on my first date. I could not believe that love was happening to me. He seemed to like me a lot, too. As for myself, I was out on a date with the guy that I loved more than anything in the world. The feelings he inspired were that of being absolutely awestruck. I worshipped thoughts of him. I would have given up anything if he whispered such a request. I was in deep.

We walked around the mall for endless hours. We had such a great time. Our first stop was Toys 'R' Us. Eric read me a book called "The Holes in Our Nose" It was disgusting, but he had the most charming way of reading that absolutely intoxicated me with loving thoughts.

Then we moved on to all sorts of shops, inluding Musicland in which I showed Eric all sorts of things like the No Doubt CD and Celine Dion's song "Because You Loved Me." We wet [sic] to this shop where he has a hacker friend who had shut down the computers of some of the shops at the mall.

We met up with his parents after he gave me a guided tour of Barnes and Noble. He apparently loves the books there about physics and I showed him The Fountainhead, recommending it, and he asked if I read it for a reason other than to read it, and I lied and said no, but I really read it for the scholarship, although I want to read it further, and I loved hear him talk about everything he loves.

His mom and little sister found us while we were playing chess. Rather, while he was teaching me chess. It was fun for me, but I think that maybe had a drag of a time.

We went to Piccadilly's after we left Barnes and Noble. The only thing was that I made friends with his sister and was playing with her so much that I forgot my purse in the car. I carried her inside.

[...]

On April 5, 1997, I met my Eric’s three-year-old sister, Lexi Herboso, and decided that I am definitely going to have children of my own. That is also one of the reasons that I left Saraland. I had a distinctive need to take myself and, therefore, my future children, away from the insanity that had been stepping on my heels since my earlies memories. was going to make it out, and my children would never,ever know the insanity of it.