I've been asked to spill about the boy I've mentioned a few times now, and it's not that I haven't wanted to... I've just been hesitant to share, for a variety of reasons. Including but not limited to: he's the first boy I've let read my blog while dating them (Hey babe!!!), considering my past relationships, I am petrified that this one, like all the others, is doomed to fail and end in heart break, and sometimes I'm just hesitant about our relationship itself, but I'll get to that. Without further adieu, the beans are being spilled.

Where to start when it comes to Josh is another issue. I guess we'll start at the beginning. We met during frosh week. I, the all knowing, all powerful frosh leader; he, the young, naive, gorgeous, get any girl he wants, froshee. Although initially I was attracted to his confidence and those baby blues; never, ever, ever in a million years did I think we'd end up together. He's too young, I'm seeing someone else, he's a player (I'm sure he wouldn't want me to disclose his kill count to everyone, but let's just say it's high. More than triple mine, high. And during frosh he was a chick magnet, and could have had his pick of girls on any given night)... etc. etc. At the time, it didn't matter, because guides and froshees aren't allowed to have anything happen between them, rules to protect the innocent, I guess. I knew by now that my long distance relationship wouldn't work out, and I was en route to ending it, and I have to admit, I was really attracted to Josh.

I just realized that for the short two months we've known each other, our story is really long and detailed. Basically I end things with the long distance relationship, I start seeing Josh and another guide I met during frosh week because I don't want a relationship, we become best friends who kiss, I end things with the guide, I still argue that I don't want a relationship,  Josh and I succumb to plenty of sexual tension (like a month and a half worth), I tell him I don't want him sleeping with anyone else, we meet the parents, we fall in -intense like that isn't quite love yet -. There are a few key moments that define the story that I remember clear as day.

The first time we really talked, we were on a 3 hour bus ride to the middle of nowhere to drink. He told me he was tired of the meaningless sex, that he wanted to ask me out for dinner. I laughed, sort of. Got scared, too.

The first time we kissed, we were sitting on my couch, and I was trying so hard not to let him kiss me. Then he did, and all I remember thinking was  "shit shit shit fuck fuck". Yeah, I was that against this at the beginning. On the same day, he told me a lot about his past, and we made a promise to never leave each other's lives and that no matter what we'd be best friends.

The night I kicked him out of my bed, telling him I was too claustrophobic to sleep in the same bed as him and he left at 4 am, without a fight, an argument. He completely understood, even if he didn't like it, he put up with it because he is patient, and understanding.

The night I decided I would have sex with him, I was at home, at the bar with my girls. I showed them a picture of him, and they were like "who cares if he's young, as long as he's not going to make you commit, he's gorgeous and you should go for it'.

The day we actually slept together. We were fighting, I was trying to tell him we should end the kissing, just be friends. Some where during the fight, I said "if there are things you want, just take them" and he took what he wanted, and in turn, gave me what I wanted. It was short, rushed (he had class/I had a meeting),  exhilarating and incredible.

The weekend we spent curled up in bed and walking about the market. The football games. Him letting me be possesive to my heart's content.

The nights he would go to parties, and end up calling me and ending up at home with me in bed.

Meeting his family, seeing him at home. This is when our relationship became ingrained in my heart. Before that, I was having fun, trying it out, not serious about it at all. Going home with him, the day we spent up in Niagara, taking pictures, having an amazing time, seeing him on his home turf convinced me.

This morning, when I texted him asking if he was alone in bed, and he called the second after.

He gets me. He puts up with me. He takes the bad with the good. He is patient, loving, understanding. He lets me cry about Phil, he lets me check his texts when I feel uneasy, he calls or comes over when he knows I need him to. He knew what he wanted, he fought for in for a month, and a half, and then some. He still fights for it, when he needs to. He understands when I'm possesive and crazy, jealous and unsure. He doesn't point out to me that dating exclusively and in a relationship is the same god damn thing because he knows that my mind likes the distinction on the hard days. He tells me he loves me, and I see it in his eyes, and he doesn't get frustrated when I can't say it back. He sees my hesitations and fears as challenges to overcome, not the be all, end all of our relationship. He may be young, naive, inexperienced in relationships - but he's learning. Most of all, he's my best friend. I can say anything, do anything and he won't leave or get angry. We talk things out, even when they suck. And I wouldn't want to have things any other way.

I know I am lucky that someone like him found me and wanted me. That he found me, and that he stills wants me. I only hope he feels as lucky as I do, that I treat him half as amazingly as he does me. In the end, we'll always go hand in hand, pinky to pinky, best friends forever. We may be lost, but were holding hands.

I have refused to jump on the Xanga is drowning ship for many reasons. They mostly revolve around the fact that I think that what we will get  from Xanga is what we put into it... and thus, filling it with crap about how it's falling down to drain seems counterproductive and useless. Another reason I have refused to jump on the sinking ship is because I love this place. It will always be my first real blogging home, so I can't really criticize it. Like the first apartment you moved into - maybe the ceiling leaked, or you had loud neighbours, or a dripping sink - but you loved it and still do because it was the first place you could call your own.

BUT, I am mad at Xanga. Very, very mad at Xanga. Like grrrr *angry face* mad at it. Punch a hole in the wall, kick the grate of the car, sobbing mad at Xanga. But it's not because of the drama, or the lack of postings or the repetitiveness. It is not for any of the typical reasons we've heard about in the last month. No, I think the reason for my anger is much stronger than that:
Not one post about TWLOHA made it to the front page yesterday. Considering how many Xangans depression/self-harm/addiction has affected, how many people wrote about it, how many people rec'ed those posts, this day was clearly important to many Xangans and yet Xanga failed to feature even one post on it.

I am angry. I am disheartened. And quite frankly, I am now scared about the fate of Xanga.

The red hot anger boiled through her veins, bubbling, begging them to burst. The words she wanted to yell, stuck on the tip of her lips, burning holes in her mouth. She held them back, for fear of the damage they could cause. His calm voice, his gentle touch meant to soothe away the anger did just the opposite, unlike in the past when fire met fire, she knew with him she needed to be rational, reasonable, sane. This truth ignited her fury more, and she had no choice but to step away from his touch, escape his cooling effects before she made a fatal mistake.