Pink And Wrinkly...

Joey and Bbbb are sitting in the car with Yobbo and Mong; out of the wind. I really wish I had worn something warmer. It's freezing cold- and Dano and I are sitting on top of the picnic table near the skateboard ramp. I've got my arms wrapped around my knees to try and keep warm; never mind that I'm only wearing a mini-skirt...

She whispers to me that she really likes the guy in the Skid Row shirt, and I tell her that I've got my eye on his friend- the one with the shortest hair amongst them. We agree to discreetly find out for each other how they feel about us- and while I had no luck for her she came back and told me that the guy I liked really wanted to go for a walk with me.

I'm sober and scared. I hardly ever kiss a guy unless I'm really drunk- what if I forget how to do it and look like an idiot?

She half-pushes us together, making the first move for us- making us hold each other's hand-and we nervously set off up to the Beach Pavilion to have our little 'talk'. I ask him about the ring that he's wearing on his middle finger; it's heavy gold and has a dolphin encircling it. He takes it off and lets me hold it for a moment- and tells me that his grandmother bought it for him when he visited her in Italy a few years ago...

There wasn't a lot of chemistry but I kissed him for the rest of the night anyway- and when he asked if he could call me tomorrow I didn't deliberately change any of the numbers. For the next two weeks I considered him to be my boyfriend; and while our relationship didn't last very long it was certainly memorable.

He picked me up from school every afternoon on the way home from his Cartoon Class at TAFE. He came and watched me play netball one night and then we had dinner with his mum and dad. He came into where I worked and I made him a chocolate thickshake. And then I started to realise that I didn't really want to kiss him anymore- and the thought of doing anything more than kissing him was starting to get worrying.

We were all at a party, the whole gang of us- and I am kissing him on the beanbag that I later learnt was the dog's bed. We're under a blanket-which came out of the house in case you are playing along-and he's unbuttoned three of the top buttons on the shirt I'm wearing, which I've borrowed off my Sister. He's got about thirty-seven to go and he doesn't stand a chance. I've already decided that I like the same guy that Everybody Else does- the guy in the Skid Row shirt- more than I like my boyfriend.

I ask him if he'll go inside to get me another drink, and he does, so I take the opportunity to seek out his mate to drunkenly chat and flirt with. When my boyfriend returns he asks me if I want to head back to the beanbag, but I've had more than enough of kissing him now. Everyone else has wandered inside out of the cold except for us. We're standing beside the garage when he takes my hand and tries to make me hold his dick, which has magically appeared from out of nowhere. He's got a semi-on; which has got absolutely Nothing to do with wine, let Me assure you...

When I grab my hand back he urges me to 'Go on; give it a go'; and I tell him I can't give him head- or anything else-because his dick is all Red and Blotchy. He got a bit offended, I think, and we sort of broke up there and then. I later heard that he told everybody what I had said about his dick; then he allegedly told them that my vagina was all Pink and Wrinkly.

It may well be that.

But he never saw it or touched it; so how the fuck would he know?

Crashing And Burning...

I hate coffee. I'm no authority on the subject; I've never made Myself a cup- because it looks and smells like mud. I've never liked Peanut Butter either; though I can't actually remember ever trying it. Except for one time. Sort of.

It was the night of the Earthquake and we are at Knob's house. I'm not drinking but everyone else is- I hardly drank at all back then; in fact I'd only ever been drunk once before in my life. That was a few weeks earlier; I got really pissed on Vodka and pashed a guy with a really big nose. Huge. He's the first guy I ever kissed; twenty five times all up- to be precise...

We'd been watching the guys rehearse the song Wild Flower all afternoon in the hall they hire for Band practice. They are called Burn and are pretty serious about making it big one day. It's Knob's boyfriend's band. (I really should consider giving her a new name I suppose- seeing as we never called her that to her face.) He's the bassist and sometimes sings back-up for Foxy- who is the real talent among them; guitar-wise at least. Bbbb's just gotten onto the young drummer from the band- and I'm on with the rhythm guitarist. I know. Cool, huh?

It's the first time that either of us have kissed a guy and Everytime she walks past me she holds her fingers in gestures letting me know how her tally is progressing. I do the same and soon overtake the lead. Kissing's not what I thought it would be like, though. The guy I'm with is almost choking me with his tongue as he tries to force it further down my throat- but I presume this is what kissing is all about and so I don't complain. I've been waiting for this day to happen since I was born, I reckon, and even his lack of technique wasn't going to ruin it for Me...

After a while, though, I get sick of kissing him- the Vodka's wearing off and his nose keeps getting in the way; and also because I've got a wicked Pash-Rash. And we all know how that feels. I think he wanted to 'get onto' me the next time he saw me too, but I had other news for him. He ended up going out with Nic for a few years- they even lived together for a while; the nose obviously didn't bother her that much.

But that night- back at Knob's party- I was on with the same Drummer Boy that Bbbb had been with previously. She'd already moved on and didn't care in the slightest- and though his technique was definitely better than the guy with the big beak his kisses are still nothing to write home about.

For a start he has been eating peanuts- recently- there are still some pieces on his tongue and they are getting in my mouth. Heaps of them. All I can think of is that he has smeared a stripe, or a dollop perhaps, of Crunchy Peanut Butter on a butter knife and then wiped it clean on his tongue.

And now it's swirling around in my mouth and I don't even like Satay Chicken...

He's been drinking Rum and Cola; it washes his mouth clean and the experience of kissing him again is pleasant enough the next time. But then I see him near the Nut bowl again and I realise that I don't think I can go through with another kiss with him if he eats even one more peanut; even though he's really good looking and interesting enough to talk to- for a drummer.

I decide to lead him into Knob's bedroom, where we sit on the floor and make out in the dark. That's all I wanted to do- after all, he's only the second guy I've ever kissed; I'm hardly ready to think about having sex with someone on the first night I'm with them; well, not This time anyway. I didn't think it was unreasonable to just want to kiss each other in the dark.

Not that I think that's what he was really trying to do- have sex with me- I think he just wanted to absently probe me in various orifices for a while until he got bored; but I wasn't letting anyone near my Virginhood- for want of a better word- and kept moving and removing his groping hands from the various places he was intent on probing.

I suppose I turned all prissy and frigid...

So he left Me in there by Myself and went outside and told all the other boys in the band that I was a cock-tease. That, of course, was a lie. I hadn't touched his cock. Not once.

I'm glad of it now; but at the time I was pretty humiliated. Which was why it was so satisfying when, a few years later, he tried to kiss me again. It was so much fun telling him that I wasn't interested in him in the slightest anymore.

And the best thing was that I really meant it...

December Twenty Eighth Nineteen Eighty Nine...

It is almost half past ten in the morning. Ten-twenty-eight to be exact...

Dano and I are sitting on the peach-coloured leather lounge in her Rumpus room, watching the new Gun's n Roses video clip on MTV. We both agree that this is their best ever song and are idly chatting about Axl's skinny body. He is her idea of a Rock-god and I'm gently ripping her off because I reckon he's too weedy to be hot.

Nic and her boyfriend are picking us up at eleven to go shopping with them. I don't know why- none of us ever have any money. The song has almost finished when the television suddenly blinks off. We stare at each other briefly in surprise; and then the walls began to shake.

There is a large rumbling, it's coming from Everywhere, and I remember thinking that maybe the washing machine had blown up- because Dano's mum was just downstairs doing a load of laundry a minute ago. I can hear her now; screaming from upstairs...

Neither of us moves an inch. Dano has her mouth opened wide in surprise, like she was about to say something but had forgotten what. I can see the bricks of the house swaying in slow-motion and then it is over- almost as soon as it began- and the house becomes solid again. We look at each other, agog, and then our gaze takes us outside to the inground pool; where we watch as a large wave spreads out and washes itself out over the side, almost as if someone invisible had just dove into the still water.

We wander out onto the street where some of the other neighbours have also gathered. We are all wondering Did Everybody Else Just Feel That? What was That? Someone tells us they've just heard on their radio that there might've been a massive gas explosion at the nearby Steelworks. That seems more likely to the radio announcers- we're not on a Fault Line, after all. Then they played Martika's version of Carol King's song I Feel The Earth Move- and then we turned the radio off to save it's batteries.

All the power has gone off- and Dano's neighbour, Mister Green, tells us that the cracks in his ceiling have opened up; but at least everyone's okay. That's the main thing. Nic arrives late; she tells us that all the traffic lights are out and wonders why- because the radio in her car is stuffed and they hadn't felt the Earth moving- they had been driving along and had missed out on all the motion. We decide to go shopping anyway- maybe they still have power in the shops.

There's a lot of traffic on the roads now- people are trying to get home for some reason. It's becoming apparent that this was an Earthquake and that it's been a fair bit more destructive than we had initially thought. We're turned away from the shopping mall; the Security Guard asking us if we hadn't known there had just been a Natural Disaster? Yeah so; we only wanted to go shopping. I didn't know it was suddenly a crime of some sort. It's only when he tells us that the building might not be safe anymore and that they have to wait for the engineers to inspect it that I start to realise the magnitude of the problem...

We decide to go over to Knob's house and see how they experienced it over in over neck of the woods, and on the way there we learn that the Worker's Club has collapsed- trapping many and killing eleven from the early morning Bingo crowd. Later we learn that another two were killed underneath a collapsed shop awning on Beaumont Street and I catch myself feeling sort of glad that it's happened in the morning- if it had to happen at all, that is- because there is supposed to be a big concert held at the Club tonight-and my Sister had said she was planning to go along with all of the Henny Penny girls she worked with. And the death toll would have been so much higher had there been more than two thousand people in the auditorium that night.

Anyway; when we got to Knob's she tells us that she had been asleep when it all happened but that she woke up when she was shaken off her bed. We decide that we'll have a party at her house tonight to celebrate living through the worst Earthquake in Australian history, and set about gathering the necessary alcohol and party food. And in all the rushing about I didn't have the foresight to let anyone know that I was safe and well- and made Myself un-contactable for the next thirty-six hours.

Whoops.

You see, my Parents and little Sister had all been away camping at the beach since Boxing Day, and unbeknownst to Me were at that very moment driving back in a mad panic to see that the house, and me and my older Sisters and the cat, were all okay. I didn't know that, though, and because it was the school holidays and I had just finished year ten and it was Summer again I suppose I thought it would be alright to do whatever I pleased.

I'll also make it very clear that I didn't know my Hubby yet when this next story happened; that doesn't happen until the week after I turned seventeen. Anyway- this little story (I'm planning on posting it tomorrow) is about a Boy who was in a Band called Burn.

Try saying that fast three times.

The Flame...

I'm sitting on my little Sister's bed because I can't be bothered climbing up onto my own; listening to the small portable cassette player that's beside me...

That song, 'The Flame', by Cheap Trick is playing for the fourth or fifth time in a row and I've just rewound the tape and pressed the button to play it again when my father comes into the room. I look up at him in surprise and he sees that I've been crying. He asks why- in a gruff sort of way- and I tell him I'm upset because I don't think my 'boyfriend' wants to be with me anymore. This is the first he's heard of a boyfriend; and he snorts and asks if that's all the problem is before turning on his heel- leaving me alone to cry again; like it wasn't only the worst thing in the world that could possibly happen.

Up until last night I had really thought the boy I gave my virginity away to actually liked me; but then why would he have disappeared into thin air without me? Especially after me and Dano had just helped him and his mate win a hundred dollars on the Pokies? We were the one's choosing red or black, not them. We looked for ages before we realised we'd been abandoned with hardly a cent to our names- because we'd been shouting them both double JD's all night...

But he's been acting differently all evening. He doesn't want to hold my hand anymore and has been walking ahead quickly with his mate; ever since we got off the bus. They're trying to lose me and my friend. The two ugly chicks. To their disappointment we manage to slip in past the bouncers asking people for ID; but then he fakes a toilet break and disappears into the night.

I wonder what I'd done and why he doesn't like me when I would worship the ground he walked on if he would only let me. If I had the guts I'd ring him up or go and see him; but I'm sick of hearing him speaking in the background telling his sister to tell me that he's not at home when I call...

Still thinking on my bed; I flick my cigarette lighter on and turn the flame upside down upon the metal- heating it up for a full minute or more. When I'm sure that it's hot enough I stamp it on my flesh and hold it down firmly. There's almost an audible hiss as the skin sizzles- and I feel the sensation of a bright pain which I ignore. It feels nice. At least I can still feel something real; other than the emptiness and sadness. It doesn't even hurt as much as I do; it's not even close in comparison.

When it no longer burns I take a quick look at it before rolling my sleeve back down. It's a good one; the best yet- the burn deep and well-defined. The mark on the skin isn't red, but white hot- and puckers and blisters within seconds. I absentmindedly christen it with my Hubby's name. This one's for him. Not that he would even care. I'm sure he'd just think I was even more of a fuck-wit to know what I've just done under the guise of 'true love'.

I go outside and sit near the aviary and chat to Wally, Adam and Peppy. They're my dyke Love-birds; they have male names because I keep wishing that one of them were a boy so that they might breed and have babies. I've got a few dribbles left in a cask of warm wine and I tell the birds that I'm going to ring him in a moment; as soon as I've finished what's left of the wine- I'll do it. I need it to calm my stuttering tongue and racing heart.

I don't want him to tell me that it's over before it's even really begun...

I know that I already love him. I loved him the second I saw him standing on the stairs. That's why I instantly kissed him when he told me that blue was the colour of love. I hadn't even said hello or told him my name- I just pashed him right there and then. I've never in my life been hit by lightning but I can imagine how it feels. I wasn't deluding myself. I know in my heart he had a good time with me that night. It wasn't like all the times that came afterward; when he treated me like a leper and pushed me away. He liked being with me the first night. He seemed as keen on me as I was on him. I have to keep reminding Myself of that. Because otherwise he wouldn't have been with me in the first place.

Maybe I frightened him off by telling him I loved him after only the second time we had sex together...

But I really did love him. I knew what I felt for him was real because I can still- on occasion- look at him in exactly the same way as I did the night we met and feel the electricity run through my groin and stomach at the mere thought of him. It was instant and extreme- and stupidly, or not- like I had met back up with my soul-mate and he just didn't recognise Me anymore. Not yet. I just had to get him to remember who I was. (And in time I will. It's been sixteen years and I'm not giving up now).

I don't tell him any of this; it would sound too Whacky Wednesday for his liking. But because he really seemed to like me the first night we met I guess I thought he'd be pleased to see me again; that I had found him again despite his fake name because I was so keen to pursue that wonderful feeling he had given me...

I want to spend all my time with him and know everything there is to know about him. I just want him to want me; is that so fucking hard for him to do? Why doesn't he like me when I'm such a nice person to him? He only has to get one of his friends to ring and I'm straight over there with a carton of beer or twenty bucks for a foily (that's drug-speak; in case you are curious).

Over the next few weeks the smiley-face I created on my arm oozed greenish pus and scabbed over three or four times before turning into the keloid scar that is still prominent even today. My Father noticed it first; angrily grabbing at my wrist and demanding to know what it was and why I'd done it to Myself, while my Mother cried and worried about Me after it had been bought to her attention- I think- because my little Sister had dobbed me in. She didn't understand why I kept burning myself for no apparent reason; but I wasn't telling her why. None of my excuses would have been good enough for her anyway.

I suppose if I'm trying to make a point then this is it; the way my Hubby treated me back then still affects me today. I can't get the thought out of my head that he hated being alone with me; I know how he groaned when he opened the front door and reluctantly let me in; like I was the last person in the world who he would like to see on the doorstep.

I didn't dare hope that he would ever love me; I was flat-out just trying to get him to spend time with me; so that he could get to know me a little bit and realise I was okay. Not pretty- but still okay...

I made Dano walk for kilometres carrying her stilettos so we could search all of the local pubs for him. She was the only one who understood why I needed to be with him so badly; she even forgave me for accusing her of trying to be with him herself.

I guess the reason I'm thinking about all of this again at the moment is because the other night I walked home from the pub- retracing almost the exact same tracks that I had trekked all those years ago in search of my Hubby; a man who never wanted to be with me at all. It got me to wondering why I had walked for miles for him; often drunk, broke and in tears after another fruitless search. Why did I do it?

And here I was; this time walking home by myself rather than risk causing another public fight; the last one had us being caught on the security camera footage down at the Taxi rank. Apparently I was kicking my Hubby as he tried to force me into a cab; and they had someone review the film- thinking it may have been an abduction attempt- until someone recognised Us and knew we were only going home in our usual manner...

If you think that's bad every single taxi-driver that we ask has been to our house before- we're known for leaving things behind, interesting conversations and giving large tips that we can't afford. One of our regular drivers recently called us Functional Drunks; and when I pressed him for a definition he revealed that we were the sorts of people who can binge-drink every night but still manage to drag themselves off to work the next morning.

And I guess he got it pretty much right, huh?

Actions Speak Louder Than Words...

When I was still seventeen I had a one night stand- with a guy I'll call Ben the Boilermaker...

I was working at the Panel-beating Shop then; I had an office traineeship and I was meant to answer the phone and fill in the claim forms for the insurance companies three days a week. The other two days per week I was supposed to spend at TAFE- doing office studies and typing tests- but with Dano attending the same classes for her own traineeship we rarely turned up for classes and on the times we did we hardly ever stayed at school for the entire day.

There was never much for me to do at work; they only took me on because the government gave them money for training me- one thousand dollars when they initially took me on and one thousand dollars for when the traineeship was over. It was never a secret why they employed me; they admitted that they needed the money really badly at the time- and I was never guarenteed a job at the end of it all.

I used to start at eight and I'd be finished my work for the day by nine o'clock. That was when I became Smoko Girl. I collected the morning tea and lunch orders and would drive up to the shop to pick up everyone's food. I'd eat my morning tea in the workshop with the boys- sitting around on empty milk crates- and then go back into my office with it's glass sliding doors and doodle on a note-pad, or go to sleep for a while before I collected the lunch-time orders; the noise of the door opening would almost always wake me up before my bosses' or a customer could realise that I'd be snoozing on the job- I only got fully busted a few times...

In the afternoons my final duty for the day was ensuring there were enough beers in the fridge and two new packets of chilli Kettle Chips for the 'boys' to have when they finished work. They all knew that I wasn't quite eighteen but they send me to the bottle shop anyway.

I'm the only girl who works there, except for the old accountant who comes in on Wednesday mornings to do the books. She's German, with a thick accent; I find it difficult to understand any of the instructions she gives me- but I know well enough that she doesn't approve of me sitting with the guys at Smoko.

I had two bosses; one of them was rarely there because he operated the tow-truck side of the business and was often out picking up cars from traffic accidents. He was the 'nice' boss. My other boss was only in his early thirties, and his son- who was almost eighteen- you do the Math- also worked there as an apprentice spray painter. One Thursday after work I stayed back for three beers. Everyone but me and the younger boss had already left for the day; and the topic came up that my boss must have only been thirteen or fourteen years old when he became a father to his son...

He tells me that he's been with his wife for almost eighteen years and is bored by it all, having been with the same woman through all of his adolescence, and then proceeds to hit me up for a root. I'd told everyone at work all about my 'boyfriend' before- and how suited i thought we would be if only he would just become a teensy-bit interested in Me- in fact, Dano and I were planning on catching up with him and his his friend later that very night at the pub. It's only then, sitting on my desk- with my legs idly swinging- while my Boss harrasses me for sex that I realise that I've probably brought this on myself; staying behind drinking beer with him might have given him the impression that I wanted to spend some Alone Time with him. It wasn't him that I wanted to spend time with. I just wanted to start my Thyrsday night a little earlier than usual- and three free beers were the way in which I wanted to begin it; even though I still had to drive the car back home.

I've got my three litre cask of Vodka, Orange and Kiwi-Fruit Juice at home, chilling in the fridge, to share with Dano before we see the Funbusters later tonight; they play every week. How I wish they still made those casks; they were our Thursday night ritual. I gave the Boss the excuse that I couldn't because I was good friends with his son and couldn't do that to him and his mother- but the real truth was that he was just too old, unattractive, fat and creepy for a seventeen year old girl to want to sleep with- and then I left; collecting Dano from her corner before driving home to get ready to go out for the night- dressing up in my black catsuit and thigh high boots while getting drunk as we painted our faces and talked about guys...

We did run into my Hubby that night as I planned; I spent my entire pay buying us drinks and then he left without saying a word. I was pretty upset about it from what I can remember, and cried for a while in the toilets before Dano and I continued on to the next pub. I was still hoping to find my Hubby again- I told you before I was desperate to be with him and never took any of his hints- but he wasn't there; so I temporarily moved on.

This is when I met Ben the Boilermaker.

I was pretty trashed by this late stage in the night, though if I remember rightly he was about twenty years old and reasonably good-looking with a short blonde Flat-top. Dano's worried about Me when I tell her that I'm going home with him; it's about three in the morning by now and we both have to work tomorrow; but I'm so drunk I don't care- and depressed that the love of my life dumped me when my money ran out- so I go with him to a small terrace up the top of Town and had Myself some dull sex with Ben; who was so drunk he couldn't maintain his erection.

Sometime later, about six in the morning I think, I catch the first bus home that I can. My head feels like it's a split watermelon; and I stink of sex, booze and cigarettes; there were even white sweat stains under the armpits of my Lycra catsuit. I just want to portray what a lovely picture greeted the early-morning commuters as their eyes fell upon me on the bus. I'm pretty sure I was still drunk; My breath stunk of cheap white wine.

When I got home I tumbled into bed for five short minutes before my Mother comes into my room singing. It's her favourite song; 'Little Friend Good Morning'. I hate it because she sings it so cheerfully; and because this is how she has woken me up every morning for at least the last decade. I tell her that I'm not going into work today because I am still drunk and shouldn't be driving the car; but she made me go anyway. I sat in the shower-spewing for half an hour- and then got dressed and left. The drive to work was fucked. I could barely keep my eyes on the road because it was swimming in front of me- and the early morning sun I had to drive into was cruelly punishing my bloodshot eyes.

After morning Smoko I threw up my chicken and mayonnaise sandwich in the waste paper basket and my 'nice' boss sent me home because it was obvious to him that I was still drunk- he caught me trying to hide the evidence. That was the last time that I saw him because I didn't go back the following week. Or the one after that. I always knew that I wasn't cut out for working in an office but the main reason I left was that my younger boss used to pinch me on the arse when I walked by and would try to touch my tits in the mornings when I collected the boy's lunch orders from them. Just another reason why I shouldn't have stayed behind drinking beer with him in the afternoons I suppose. I only wish that I could have said goodbye to Ernie- the tow truck driver- before I left. He was a really nice man...

As for Ben the Boilermaker; about fifteen months later I saw him again at the same pub that I had picked him him at. I was sitting at the same table even- almost as if I had never even left; when he came over and we began talking. I excused myself to go to the toilet; and told him that I'd be really surprised to see him still sitting there when I came back. I stand up to go and for the first time he notices my very large pregnant belly; I've got less than a month to go before my eldest Son makes his appearance into the world. His eyes tell me that his brain is madly trying to remember Exactly when we were together; he's trying to ascertain if it's at all possible that my swollen stomach can be attributed to him in any way.

When I came back Ben was gone. No surprises there. But I would like him to know- if he ever reads this-that it wasn't his baby; poor old Ben the Boilermaker has probably been worried stiff for about fourteen years that he might have a kid out there in the world that he doesn't know anything about...

Rest Easy from now on, Ben. It would've had to have been the longest human pregnancy in history for that to be the case- because when I met Ben I Was still seventeen, and was now just three weeks off being nineteen. I know how slutty that makes me sound; but I just wanted someone to love me I suppose, and thought sex was all I had to offer anyone.

And I feel the need to clarify this for everyone; but especially to my eldest Son and my Hubby- just in case they ever read this- which is unlikely, though never completely out of the question...

But like I was saying before, I wasn't surprised when I returned from the toilets only to find Ben gone. Once again, actions speak louder than words. I imagine I wasn't even half-way across the dance-floor before he was out the door like a shot. Not that he is my Son's father; but I guess he wasn't ready to be a 'daddy' yet, either.

To this day I don't know why he was so worried. He hadn't told me that he'd been to the doctor and had fertility tests. He hadn't pretended to be Infertile like my Hubby had...

The Hunt...

I'm sitting in the Tree-house with Dano, Rowie and Daz. It's Daz's tree and Rowie is another one of his mates- but Mister James isn't here; so we've walked six kilometres for nothing. Oh well; there was nothing better to do anyway...

I'm pressing Rowie for information- what was the last time they saw him, what was he up to and where was he going after that and what exactly was he wearing. There's still a few other places that we can check out before I'm willing to call off the Hunt; the three pubs down the road will do for a start.

I take out my packet of Dunhill smokes and offer one to Dano before she has the chance to scab it. I'd rather offer her one than feel shitty at her. It seems like everyone's run out of smokes except for me; the guys both bumming a fag off me as well. ( I had to keep that once I wrote it.) Now I've only got five left; so I decide to smoke them all. At least then no one else can. Daz tells me I'm just being wasteful as I light them up at once; five together they are as thick as a short cigar in my mouth, but they are burning unevenly and I finish them at differing intervals.

The conversation has turned to the fact that Mister James has been avoiding my company for the last few times that I've tried to meet up with him; though he hasn't yet been openly hostile towards me- he just disappears into the night and I don't really know why, especially when we seemed like we were getting on so well. I ask Rowie if he knows why; I like Rowie- he's honest and always smiling. Unlike Daz- who I can tell sometimes secretly laughs behind my back. I suppose Mister James might have told him about how I throw myself at him when I'm drunk because I love him so desperately. I guess he laughs because he knows that Mister James isn't interested in being my boyfriend...

It's Rowie who spells it out for me- or tries to- but I try and convince him he's wrong anyway. You don't keep sleeping with someone unless you really like them- even if it's only just a little bit. They tell me that if he liked me so much that he wouldn't be sleeping with that other chick as well; well, this is the first thing that I've heard about her. They call her Nissa and I hate her already. How dare that bitch come between me and Him.

I know that I've got to find him; sooner rather than later. Before I go I stub the final burning cigarette out on my knee- pressing firmly into the flesh; grinding the red-eye into my skin. Rowie tells me not to be so stupid and I tell him I can't feel it anyway. And I'm only half-lying.

Dano and I leave the Tree-house and purposefully walk around the streets; stopping in at all the nearby local pubs in a last ditch attempt to find him for me. I'm ranting about this Nissa chick; while Dano tries to reason with me that even though it's a slackarse act Mister James isn't technically my 'boyfriend' and so isn't doing anything all that wrong. I know he's not my boyfriend; that's what the problem is- how can he be with someone else when I'm so in love with him. I'm more than ready to be his girlfriend- all he has to do is Start liking me and Stop fucking this other chick.

He's not at any of the pubs we try, and once we are broke we walk home again- wishing we had kept ten dollars aside for a taxi. Dano's trying to convince me that the Bike Track is actually the shortest way- and I agree with her but only so we can drink the bottle of wine that she has in her bag. We don't have a bottle opener- but we do have a skewer- which we use to dig out the cork, piece by piece. Afterwards, as we are sipping the wine through chunks of floating cork, I tell her that I'm over it. Him. I can't be bothered chasing him all over Town when he obviously has no interest in me- there's always another fish out there in the sea. And then, when we got back to my house, we made ourselves a bowl of spaghetti and tomato sauce- it's not actually as bad as it sounds- while we talked up ways to find out who this Nissa scrag was...

Obviously though, I didn't listen to my own advice; and continued to stalk Him for the next year and a half; until our Son was born. After that happened I found that I really didn't have the time or dedication that's needed to be a professional Stalker, as I could only pursue him when I had a babysitter.

And by then I had already decided that he Really didn't want to be with me, and so I sort of gave up on him for a while.

And that's when I met up with my Bastard Ex...

Mister James...

Being careful not to slip on the mossy surface I am walking down the darkened driveway; but Mister James is holding my hand tightly and I don't fall...

You should see him; he's the hottest guy I've ever been with.

It's a chilly September night and I'm wearing a pair of denim cut-off shorts and a thin black cardigan which I pull around my bare shoulders. I feel sick in the guts with nerves but excited; because I'm pretty sure this is going to be It. The night I'm going to lose my virginity at long last. I could have lost it few times before now; but he's the One it's supposed to happen with. I don't know that much about him yet; he's told me his name, that he's eighteen and that he's recently moved to Town from the country with his family.

For most of the night we've been sitting underneath the house where the party was held; pashing every now and then and stealthily drinking the Ouzo we've stolen from the kitchen with his mate and his Girl. And Fun? I've never had so much fun with anyone before. I can tell this guy really likes me back; his mad eyes have seduced mine all evening. I feel like my Reeboks are floating on air and my face is splitting from smiling so much. It's been the best night of my Life. Ever.

I'm seventeen; it was my birthday last weekend- but it may as well have been a year ago. Last weekend I had a crush on the guy in the Skid Row shirt- though of course I thought it had been love. It couldn't possibly have been love because it's Nothing compared to this feeling- and I've only just met this guy...

Stevo's warning to 'be careful' barely crosses my mind as we reach the base of the tree-house and climb the tall pine-log ladder to the top. Dano's already in there with his best mate; me and Mister James helped her set them up together earlier- She's head over heels in love already, too. There are a few mattresses flung on the floor; obviously this is the place where the 'boys' bring back the girls to pick up -so to speak. I don't care; I doubt he's ever looked at any of them like he's been looking at Me. I just wish I'd had the foresight to get all dressed up tonight and wasn't in my daggy shorts, still- but then, being at the party was totally unexpected. Dano and I were supposed to be watching videos tonight with Mong and Bbbb- it was only a last minute invitation that we got to be at the party at all. Fate wanted us to meet; it's so obviously meant to be.

We've drunk the last few Twist-Tops we managed to flog from the party as we left; it was dying in the arse anyway by one am. We choose one of the mattresses while Dano's right next door on the other with his mate. Very romantic I know; especially for the First Time Ever- though I haven't told Mister James about that part. I don't want him to think I'm desperate...

It's pitch black and the lights are switched off so that the Parents in the big house outside don't know that the boys are 'entertaining' any guests tonight. I help Mister James half-way out of his jeans while I frantically try to remember which pair of underwear I was wearing; hoping against vain hope that they aren't the ones that earned me my nick-name at the Motley Crue concert.

I'm nervous as hell now; he's guiding himself into me after expertly removing my pants while I hardly noticed as I thought about his strong hands on my body as he was kissing me. It hurts more than I thought it would; for years I deluded Myself all the horse-riding I had done would have taken care of my hymen- just like the myth had said it would...

But it feels like a sword every time that it enters and I can't relax; I'm stiff as a board and tensing more and more with each thrust. I don't want to be a boring root to him- what I really want to do is spit on my finger so I can give my old girl a little bit of wet; I'm so dry and sore (I know- I apologise; and there's another example of Honesty Overkill still to come). But I don't dare do that and so I stay that way until it's all over. I don't even know if I was any good- or if he was enjoying himself.

I wonder why a guy like him would want to do it again with a girl who is as boring as that in bed. And I know I was boring. I put my pants back on, feeling wet at long last- when I realise that it's actually blood. I'd already had my period for the month so I knew it wasn't that, but that he had just 'busted' me good. I start to feel paranoid that he's got blood all over himself too, now- not that I dare mention it to him; he'll be so turned off when he finds it though; knowing I was just a boring little virgin all along.

Dano has gone outside for a cigarette sometime during the Big Event and is now making her way back into the cubby again. She motions that her 'bloke' is ready to drive us home now; we have to get home before too much longer or we'll be in shit tomorrow and will probably get grounded off our parents. She reminds me that I have to play netball in the Grand Final in four hours and that's enough to convince me to let them drive me home- even though we were all still quite drunk.

Not that I want to go home; I don't want this night to ever be over.

I get dropped off first; Mister James commenting that he didn't live all that far away from me; only three blocks past the Park. Then he kissed me goodbye and said he'd see me around sometime and drove away into the night...

It was enough information for me to find him again- but he wasn't the same Mister James that I had first met. Which was a shame; because I've been trying to find that first guy for the last fifteen years- though every now and then the Doppelganger lets him out.

But I've told you about my Hubby before now, though. So you should already know who I was talking about...