Alone in love

Party

Wednesday 24th May, 2017

Yesterday was one of the most eye-opening experiences of my life; I went to my first ever party. Obviously not like one from when I was about 4, where they handed out party bags, instead one where the only bags being passed were probably full of some illegal drug that my parents (especially my Mum) had warned me so much about.

To say that the day changed my life would probably sound a bit gay and exaggerated, but I realised and saw things that yesterday that will still stay with me for a long time, even if one of them was just watching my seemingly innocent best mate struggle to walk in a straight line.

Important events in regards to my teenage years have happened before this, however for some reason after yesterday, my life just feels as if it has changed significantly or at least, I think it has. I will reference events before this but this is really where my story begins, and when I really started to think about my life more.

It is in the summer after I had finished school, a long break of about three months, where I have left the house to my count no more than about five times to date, in the space of the four weeks we have had already off. Only a few weeks before, I was done with school, and to be honest the people there. Little did I know I now feel as though I met some of the most genuine and selfless people there.

To set the scene, I have begun to feel things that other boys were feeling, this had happened about a year or too before, but I still knew boys my age who's voices hadn't broken, and probably had as much hair downstairs as a cancer patient's. I hate to go into too much detail about myself personally, but it's important that I describe where I am in my childhood, to truly understand where this diary/novel or whatever is going.

In year 7, I was as innocent as a Jew in Germany during the wars. Girls were something I didn't care about in the slightest. I mean why should I? They were all shit at football, and that was what really mattered to me at the time.

In year 8 and 9, I began to notice girls in a different way. Some of my friends even stretched into the relationship category with them. Not me though, of course, I can't even get a girlfriend now, why would it be any different a few years ago. However I did begin to realise who the pretty ones were, especially with my mates discussing the topic rather gingerly. There were girls I began to like, and find attractive. Some of them I had never spoken to in my life, I thought they just seemed like nice people. To this today I still don't know whether I would have had the same thoughts at that age if it wasn't for my mates and other media. All I knew is that I hung around with boys every day, while some my age were going out on dates, sometimes even kissing, but sill nothing serious. Some days I would wake up, and convince myself to try and talk to some of these girls, it was if I was waiting for the right opportunity. It never came. It still hasn't now really, although I wonder whether I tell myself that to try and cheer myself up. To cut a long story short, year 8 and 9 were about as exciting as the rest of the ones before.

Year 10 changed the game a bit. Still sexually frustrated, yet still too nervous, I lived in a social limbo around girls, neither coming nor going, unable to take a leap of faith. I got around it of course through my love of football and cricket, filling a gap that would be dangerously empty without them. Eventually I settled for my situation, but the horrible truth was that I still wanted to have sex. I was only about fucking 14.

I never intended to start wanking, it kind of happened one day and has stuck with me ever since. Some boys had talked about it jokingly, but I would usually get embarrassed when it was brought up, and this was before I even had tried it.

To this day, and still being a virgin, wanking is the closest thing to a sexual stress relief. At first it was brilliant, every day would be improved immediately because of it, but it just feels a bit empty know, ironic I know, as my brain must think I'm getting so much more action than I'm actually getting.