The lie!

[out_there]

So damn amused by the eight responses I got (and not one of them was right).



1) The first bone I broke was in my wrist when I was three. It happened when I fell out of a second storey window and missed the concrete footpath/sidewalk underneath me by mere inches.

False. I did fall from a second-storey window when I was 2 or 3, and I did miss the footpath by mere inches, but I only stubbed my big toe. Mum took me to hospital and everything, but that was the only damage.

First and only broken bone happened when I was 19-20 and is in my foot. It actually happened because I was being an idiot. We’d just moved into a really nice upstairs/downstairs place, and I was running around mucking around with stuff and generally overjoyed about the place. I managed to trip running upstairs, and fell face first onto the stairs/upstairs landing. I did hear a loud crack at the time and freaked, thinking I’d managed to break something on the wooden staircase. I also just swore for the next three minutes or so, because my foot hurt and I thought I’d sprained my ankle being an idiot.

As it turned out, I walked on it for the next three days before finally going to the doctor (because the swelling and bruising kept getting worse, not better, so I figured a doctor’s visit was in order) and getting it put in a cast. I attended the first three weeks of uni on crutches (not fun when you’re going from Clayton to the city, and have trouble balancing if you take textbooks with you). Ended up dropping out that year and taking a 12 months leave of absence after x-rays didn’t show the healing and there was talk of operations and months of bed rest. As it turned out, I was fine, I was healing fine, and there were no complication and no permanent effects (other than the fact that I naturally walk straighter on the broken foot).

2) The first time I read kinky porn was when I was twelve. It was the Beauty's Punishment/Release books by Anne Rice (borrowed from my father). However, I had read sexually explicit scenes before, having read a quite a few Wilbur Smith novels since I was ten.

True. I’m amused that this seems so believable for most slashers. You guys know me well.

3) The first time I kissed a girl I was fifteen. It was weird friendship with benefits type of arrangement that quickly led to more sexually, but never led anywhere emotionally.

True. (Sorry, Signe, no drabble for you.) Lasted for a couple months and screwed with my attitudes towards sex and relationships for a while. It also left me with a long-lasting distrust of Role Playing games/scenarios (also why I won’t role play now). It’s odd because I tend to think of myself as a not very worldly type of gal, but I did get into sex fairly early. As it turns out, she’s the only girl I’ve slept with, but that’s more because I couldn’t be bothered going out and meeting people than anything else.

4) The first time I kissed a guy I was nineteen. I was very drunk, and took him home that night, but wouldn't go all the way.

Totally true. This seems to be the crowd favourite though (deadspiders, edie22, lilacdiety and iibnf went for this). Since most people don’t believe it, I might as well tell the whole tale.

I went out disco-ing with Mum to an over-28s night. Mind you, this is fine for Mum (her age group) and fine for me (not interested in anyone anyway). Did I end up kissing the cute guy with the Blair-hair that I had my eye on? No, but I was offered a drink by the only other 19 year old there (he’d come with his older brother) and said yes more for the sake of politeness than anything else. I mean, he wasn’t a particularly bad-looking guy, I just wasn’t exactly awed and/or interested in him.

Well, I hadn’t drunk much (didn’t drink under 18 and this was the first time I had more than a glass or two of Midori and milk), so the scotch and coke that he bought me went to my head. The trouble was that I was dancing, a lot, and I get thirsty. This was before I’d discovered the sense in always having a bottle of water between alcoholic drinks when dancing, and always making sure that if a guy offers you a second drink, make sure it’s water. So, he kept offering, and I kept drinking. (In hindsight, I think I had about 8 or 10 drinks, which is why I can’t remember all of the night in perfect clarity. *g*)

We danced, and he was certainly the one pressing the situation, and we ended up kissing on the dance floor. Mum was taking someone home, and suggested that I do the same, and I felt like I’d be a prude to say no, so I did take him home. I can’t remember much of what we did when we got home but I can remember a few things. I didn’t let him go all the way (I had condoms, but said I didn’t and used it as an excuse), I go down on him (but I can’t remember much of it other than it wasn’t as gross as Mum seemed to believe) and that he fell asleep/passed out while I was kissing him. I can also remember that he went down on me and that I was highly unimpressed but tried not to show it (it doesn’t help that my only comparison to this 19 year old drunk guy’s was a 15 year old girl who was very good with her hands). It did manage to turn me off the idea of talking dirty for a good while ("I’m going to lick you until you’re dry" still sounds rather painful to me.)

As it turned out, he slept in my bed, hogged both my doona and my bed, and snored very loudly. I ended up dragging in a mattress and trying to sleep on the floor with a spare doona, so it’s not surprising that I woke up a bit cranky and a little happy to see him go. Anyway, in his defence, he asked me out to dinner that night (hmmm… would have been a Saturday) and we agreed to meet in the city outside Myers. Well, I ran about 10-15 minutes late (for me, that’s virtually punctual) and when I showed up, he wasn’t there. I shrugged, didn’t think much of it (didn’t care too much either way to be honest) and went back home.

Well, the phone was in my brother’s room that night, and this guy decided to call up at about 2am, pretty drunk, to talk to me. My brother said that he brought the phone into my room and woke me up to give it to me. I think I must have been still asleep because I have absolutely no memory of this at all. As far as I can recall, I slept soundly through Saturday night. However, my brother swears that he gave me the phone and went back to bed, but overheard me being pretty angry at the guy (I basically growled at him, but my brother couldn’t make out the words) and hung up on him.

The entire experience did teach me not accept drinks or dances from guys out of misplaced politeness or pity; it’s better to hold out for the guy or girl who really strikes your fancy. There’s no need to settle for someone, because you just regret it later. (It also taught me the importance of sitting down and talking with Mum, and telling her that when I said that I wanted/needed to go home, I wasn't looking for her support to take the guy home, I was looking for her to play the Big Bad Wolf and giving me a polite way to finish the night.)

Just for your information, in total I’ve kissed five people. The girl and guy mentioned above, another guy (met him at the Buffy Ball in Canberra, really liked him, made out in his car for hours, but I was too shy to just offer my number and he was too shy/tired/uninterested to ask for mine), another girl (just a weird friendly, I’m drunk and kissing’s fun type of thing) and another guy (gay, but it was just a case of testing kissing skills). Apparently, I’m a good kisser.

5) The first time I worked in a job was when I was nineteen (almost twenty). It was a full-time position as a junior accountant in Canberra. I've never worked part-time in my life.

Also true, even if celli and melwil don’t believe me. I never worked part-time. Part of this is because I’m a lazy sod, and the other part is that Mum always emphasised concentrating on studying and not working. We were never particularly rich (ie. most of my high school life we were living on the Single Parents Pension, Dad’s maintenance and Austudy) and I could have helped the family finances by working, but Mum was adamant that we didn’t have to.

This is mainly because her parents split up during her last year of high school and she ended up working to help her mother. For about eight months her weekday routine was to work at her mum’s cafe in the morning (6am-9am), go to school (9am – 3pm), pcik up her younger siblings, drop them home, work after school in the hospital as a diet maid (4pm – 7pm), and then work at the cafe and close up at 11pm or midnight. Then, she’d drag herself home, eat, sleep and set her alarm for 2am or 3am in order to do the study required for year twelve. Seriously, I’m amazed she passed, and she still did better than the rest of her siblings. (It’s a vast difference from Dad, who spent most of his last year skipping classes and hanging around with mates, and then refused to sit the final exams.)

It’s pretty much set the example for my years at uni, too. If you’re going to class, you should be studying. If you don’t have enough money to afford to study, and pay rent and go out, you don’t go out. Basically, you can’t get something for nothing, so whatever you want, you have to give something else up to achieve it. (Or, as my granddad would say, you can have everything in life, you just can’t have it at the same time.)



There we go. That’s a little more that you know about me. Possibly more than you wanted to know, but tough luck now. *g*