Dear Teenage Diary,
I went down the gym with Sheila and I couldn’t believe it but Noah was there with Alex. I can’t figure Noah out. I mean I don’t know whether he’s interested or not. He didn’t phone me all week, but then he turns up at the gym. I didn’t go to talk to him in fact I went out of my way to ignore him, I guess partly because I was angry with him and partly because I felt guilty because I’d got off with Matt the night before. He kept looking over at me and when me and Sheila went outside he followed us, but never came up to me. I guess he was too shy. I kind of still like him, but a whole load of me is attracted to Matt. The thing is today is the last time I will see Matt because he has to go back home and he lives 64 miles away – not much chance of me ever seeing him again.
We bumped into Matt at the bust stop on camp, quite fluky actually because he told us their warden had told them they had to be in by 9.30pm which only gave us an hour together. Anthony arrived about 5 minutes later on his motorbike. I felt really awkward around Matt and you could tell he felt the same. He kept apologising about last night and about how he shouldn’t have pushed it too far. I kept telling him it didn’t matter. I suppose we got talking more when Denise got on the back of the motorbike with Anthony because it meant we were left alone. We all eventually ended up sitting in Les and Archibald’s tent. By then Denise and Anthony were really close again. Matt started talking to me, but I said, “can we talk while they’re not there.” So they went outside. Matt put his arm around me and said he hoped I didn’t think he’d used me and that there was no point in getting too heavy because he lived so far away. He just kept apologising and saying, “you do understand?” I do perfectly. I knew nothing big would ever come of it. So then he said, “can I have a good luck kiss?” So we kissed in the tent. Again it was heaven. I will never forget his kisses, they were just perfect.
We then got out of the tent because they had to go. Matt gave me one last goodbye kiss trying to make it last as long as it possibly could. Then they both got on the motorbike. We said bye and started to walk away. They turned the lights on and started coming towards us and missed us. They drove away waving and then as they went around the corner they beeped the horn and that was it. A perfect ending to a perfect weekend romance.
Only we realised we hadn’t given them our telephone numbers and I didn’t know their last names so there was no way of keeping in touch with them. Denise was crying and even though I wasn’t I was so depressed because I’ve never met anyone so nice as Matt before. We spent the rest of the night moping round the village, looking at every car just hoping they’d be in it, knowing full well they wouldn’t. The phone even rang in the phonebox and Denise answered it but no one was on the other end. I can’t believe I will never see him again. Denise is going to write a letter and she’s going to try and find them early tomorrow morning to give it to them with our telephone numbers. I hope she finds them, but I really don’t think she will. I can’t believe I let him go so easily, but maybe it’s less hurtful that way.
I’ve decided that I should phone Noah up tomorrow and just find out where I stand because I still like him but I just don’t know how he feels about me. Why are all the nice boys so far from my reach? All I know is I will never forget Matt and now it is all written down I have proof to myself that it really did happen and it wasn’t all just a dream.
*All names have been changed from those in my monthly teenage diary to protect the not so innocent.
Remember to come back on Monday for the next installment of my 1995 teenage diary.
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Becky Stafferton is a full time blogger over on her website The Art of Healthy Living, mum of 2 and certified Queen of the hashtags. She continually strives to promote a realistic, sustainable and positive image of how to lead a healthy life. When she’s not writing or reading her teenage diary she can be found swigging Prosecco from the bottle, running through muddy puddles, making lists of lists, having a good old moan, scoffing flapjacks and squatting like her life depends on it.
Sorry I missed the previous blogs of your story. I think I should read it from the beginning.