You Were Hot When You Were 16

Sorry dear readers but prepare yourselves for a rant (a rant which might just contain one hundred and one typos cos I can haz wine).

Ready?

Set?

Go…

Don’t you just hate it when you bump into someone you haven’t seen in ages, who is so unhappy, unsecure and all round so much of a freakin’ nonsense that they project (oooo look at me, I said project, I could totally go on Oprah right now) their shite and pointless existence on to you and try to drag you down to their own pointless level?

(Uh oh, did they succeed? I’m ranting after all; meh, etc).

Anyways, tonight I was told by a teeny-tiny inconsequential being that ‘My boyfriend ‘made’ me’.

The boyfriend in question being the boy I went out with from 14 through 17.

Now, aged 31, I resent the implication.

Whilst the boy in question, doubtlessly was a large influence then, I’d like to think I’ve grown up (albeit only marginally) since.

Seriously, it’s getting kinda tired.

We’ve all changed.

We’re no longer the people we were when we were young.

Increasingly I’m beginning to think that there was a bloody good reason for moving on from the toxic friendships that I had when I was 16.

I’m also getting tired of the ‘you were beautiful then’ comments.

I wasn’t beautiful then. I just had longer hair and less baggage.

Meanwhile, you’re just a short stumble away from a racy little number, a mid-life crisis, a drug addiction too late to be edgy/troubled/dangerous; only sad.

Oh, and incidentally love, those little incidents create baggage… The kind they put stickers on at the airport, and charge your overweight for.

Perhaps I’m not what you thought I was. Perhaps, dear heart, I was never what you wanted me to be… But a cold fuck and a goldfish memory (however rose tinted) just isn’t me.

Not anymore.

Perhaps it never was.

Perhaps you were so busy ‘knowing’ me so well, and for so long you neglected to notice that in fact we’ve all moved on.

…Well, everyone bar you, my love.