Dear friends and readers,

This is different from many of the stories you've seen me write. It is more or less true (names and places have been changed to protect …well, ME). I had my first real boyfriend when I was 14, and a sophomore in high school. I began my diary. Told it more than just my dating quandaries, but filled with all sorts of teenage angst and melodramatics. (and looking back, I could be incredibly melodramatic). The diary ended about a month before my wedding, so I guess you really could call this the Dating Diary.

Why post my pathetic diary? Easy. While I realize many of us write in fantasy, I'm tired of 14/16 year olds thinking like 30 year olds. Realism Folks! And what's more real than an actual diary? In some respects the writing sucks. I have changed nothing but actual names. Thought about elaborating, but then, you'd get my near 30 year brain in places it doesn't belong. This is what it is.

The basics, however, still apply. This is my work, (for better or worse) is copyrighted by me, and no posting without my prior permission. Celeste's blow job principle is still in action guys. This may or may not include adult situations, so if you're not allowed to watch a nc-17 movie, scram. All other enjoy (or not *shrug *).


Dating Diary 1988 Part 3
By Dryad

Dear Diary,                                                                                                        12/5/88
Mom called my doctor, and he wants me to go to a gynecologist. My luck—there’s no female gynecologists!

Players is starting a Christmas game. Its called Secret Santa. For the week of the 12-16th you give the person a present each day—you receive one too, from a different person.  After school Friday, there’s a meeting. Each person who was in it guesses who his/her secret santa is-if you’re wrong, you make an idiot of yourself; but nothing happens if you are right.


So far only 3 people have signed up for it. I figure this out to help narrow it down a little (yes, I joined into doing it!)


Dear Diary,                                                                                                        12/13/88
I’m sorry I’ve neglected you but, well, you know how it is.  Today has been a day of ups and downs. First, I know I failed my English test (vocab and myth) and I got an 88 on my Grammar test! Then in chemistry, the teacher only gave us the problem part of the test, which was a snap. Then I got a warning in Algebra. I didn’t even get my gift from secret santa (yesterday I got a little thing of lip gloss—children’s lipgloss!) I’ll get back to that later.

On the bus on the way home, Jason smacked me on the forehead once and hide in the seat so I didn’t see him, then he’d do it again. I always believed 3 strikes and your out, so I got up out of my seat; He turned around and went to go in the back and I grabbed a handful of hair and pulled back—hard. We got into a scuffle which I got the better of.  That was pretty cowardly—hitting from the back then hitting a girl? Most ungentlemanly like. That could be taken as a good or a bad.  I now reinforced that I’m not to be reckoned with and made Jason look like a fool, so he’ll probably want revenge.  Mom found out and said I should have told the bus driver—I was in the second seat, and the bus driver saw!


I told mom he started it, he did it more than once, and I got sick of it, and I’d be damned if he was gonna hit me again! So much for my fight, he doesn’t deserve the ink I’m writing with.

I am being mean to Sandra, my secret santa person. I created a riddle to help her guess who I am. Monday I gave her a candy cane wreath. Today I gave her a pin that said “of course God made man first--As a rough draft!” She thinks women are superior to men. I’ve gotta go now, its past my bedtime.

Dear Diary,                                                                                                        12/25/88
Its Christmas! I have gotten a color TV (!) a skirt from Sasha, 3 pairs of socks from Lianne, powder and a Sachet from Chan, I got perfume, a mini piano, bubble bath from my secret Santa (who turned out to be Lindsey) sheets and a unicorn blanket from Mr. and Mrs. Castle, a book about winter gardening and a sachet holder from Kim and Al. A shirt and a purse from Aunt Edith and Uncle Maurice. Perfume and pantyhose from Grandma. The last 3 books to Anne of Green Gables from mom and dad. A scientific calculator and a Reba tape from Katie; more socks, 3 essential oils (strawberry, violet and rose) a Bellamy Bros. Tape (which I already had) Peanuts, Macadamia nuts a whole set of different colored pens.  My TV is really great. It has push buttons and is a 13”. This is just this morning, though we still have this afternoon.

Katie got a synthesizer for her big xmas present. Actually, its pretty neat—it plays things like fireworks, popcorn, iceblocks.


Dear Diary,                                                                                                     12/29/88
Its Thursday. The week is going by so fast—I am starting to write a new book—between Rainbow Valley and Rilla of Ingleside. I am trying something new; I write a chapter, correct it until I feel it’s perfect, then go on to the next chapter. I got a raise in work. I bought Reba’s new tape—sounds pretty good. Paid mom back and put the money in the bank.-my next check I pay mom for the tape put half in the bank, school clothes and “Further Chronicles of Avonlea”. I got that stupid rash back (Yuck!)

I talked with Josh today at the music store.  He introduced me to his father. (saying about Aunt Laura, since his mom went to school with her—which reminds me, I still have to send a thank you letter…oh shoot!)


I now have $936 (or something to that extent) in the bank.  Or was it $948? I don’t know and I’m too lazy to look it up! “Rilla of Ingleside” was soooooo extremely pathetic! Walter gets killed in the First WW. Jem comes back with a limp, Carl (Meredith) lost an eye. Rill at first was a spoiled brat, but then she “adopts a war baby”. The mother had died and she became a much better person for it. (let me tell you!) Diary, its too bad you can’t read, this is like the best book I have ever read (and I have read more books than anyone could imagine!) All my plants are dying—yes, I’m a murderess—I never could keep a plant alive in my room—except that stupid cactus which always comes back!  I really must go to bed now!

To be Continued
in
Dating Diaries, 1989

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Copyright Dryad ([email protected]) 2003


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