summer by the lagoon

situationships, they're funny right? 

you invest so much time and energy into someone who tells you from the start that they want nothing more than the occasional fuck, yet like a hopeless (read: tragic) romantic you pour more and more love into the other person in the hopes that they'll label you. 

for me that was V. 

i'd never felt such an electric pull towards a person before. i went on a date with him in the middle of my breakup with alex and i wasn't planning on doing anything. just a dinner, maybe a drink and then go home, that was the plan. i was intimidated by his presence and his teal eyes would stare a little too deep into mine. he was everything alex could never be and everything i needed in that moment. 

so i went home with him.

i considered it a one night stand and thought we'd leave it at that. yet here i was at his house again 2 weeks later. and then again. and then i'd come over while i'm on my period just to chill. then we're doing groceries and laundry together. 

it starts with a toothbrush.

and before you know it you have a makeup bag in his bathroom and a drawer of your own for your clothes.

this went on for almost a year. being showered in forehead kisses. crying infront of him. going on dates every day. telling my mom about him. going to portugal together. meeting his family. looking for appartments together. 

but we were nothing, right?

no label means no rights.

so of course it was okay for you to be a two-timing dickhead.

i can't even call it cheating.

no label no rights.

time to cover up these tattoos (again).

reaching the finish line.

 Two weeks went by faster that I thought. Exactly 14 days ago I decided to go on a break with Alex, with the main reason still being him not having a job after 6 months. We have had countless of fights about this and it feels like he still doesn't understand that it's not about him having the most money in the world so he can spoil me in gifts, but that we are both financially stable and making it possible to meet each other. 

I knew from the start that going into a long distance relationship would be a tough fucking battle, but what can you do when you're head over heels in love with a person? 

So when he promised me that he would finally (read 'this was the 3734th time he said this') take finding a job serious, and decided to go chill with his homies again, anger got the best of me and I told him to fuck off. Blocked everywhere. 

Why is it so hard to understand that it bothers me? I'm not asking him to get a manager position in 3 days or work at the office, even going back to bartending or restaurant work wouldn't bother me. It's the fact that he is not actively searching for one. I gave him so much time to find a job, even helped him by sending 50+ links to job vacancies and wrote multiple motivation letters for him. I would still be so proud of him if he would've gotten rejected by 50 places, because at least then I know he put effort and focus into finding a way to take the financial burden of my shoulder and saving money to do things together. It just bothers me that he prefers to do nothing at home or hang out with his lil loser homies in the skatepark. He keeps saying it's just a phase and that he's not lazy,  but what else can I call it? It's just laziness at this point, and he knows it. 

It breaks my heart that I lost the possible love of my life over something as imbecile as being jobless and it hurts me even more that he isn't willing to change the narrative. It's not like I'm asking him to do something irresponsible. Who fucking doesn't love money in this world? Who doesn't want to spoil themselves and their loved ones with gifts or save up to go on a vacation. Don't you need money to survive? Groceries, rent, school, driver's license, health. Why do you want to stay stuck in a vicious cycle? 

It tears me apart to not know what he's doing or who he's with. In some way trust can waver when you and you're partner are bad, and I'm scared that in a moment of weakness he will into the eyes of another woman and find his happiness there. Even if it's just temporary.

But fuck it. I gave him months of time and space. I gave him endless resources and help. I even worked my ass of at two jobs combined with school so I could provide for the both of us when I flew all the way to Lisbon to see him. I've spend over 2500 euros on a 10 day trip, and it wasn't even anything fancy. 

If he wants me, he will do what's right and eventually reach out to me. I'm always the one reaching out to him after a fight. This time I won't do it first, or ever again. If he doesn't reach out, then I will know my place in his heart. Better to find out now than 4 years down the right. 

So now I'm going to continue sipping on my cocktail at this beach club in Zeeland, enjoying the sun and ocean waves. My happiness doesn't depend on a man anymore. 

If he wanted to he would. 

breaks leading to breakups.

In some way I know that we're a case of right person, wrong time. I just don't want to accept it yet. 

My relationship with Alex has come to a halt. What used to be an exciting new adventure slowly turned into a bitter nightmare. 

So I asked for a break. 

I asked for a two-week break so that he could focus on finding a job and getting his schedule back to normal without the pressure of considering me into his daily tasks. I know it sounds very vague but I'm not here to talk about our upcoming breakup. I was cleaning my room today and suddenly remembered a moment between us that overwhelmed me with emotions. 

We always joke about how we never made love, which is not the case, just because we prefer a certain type of sex. In our eyes, 'making love' is slowmotion sex. The slow thrust, eye to eye, passionate candlelight movie sex. Truth is we both just like it rough and that's why we deny making love to each other. 

But during my last trip to Lisbon in May we weren't on good terms at all. We were fighting for weeks and didn't intend to stay together. He came over to my Airbnb the night that I landed to talk things through. We were so distant from each other but everything inside of me burned for him to touch or hold me. I was drawn to his lips since the moment he started speaking, while I just sat there in silence with tears in my eyes.  One thing led to another and before we knew it, clothes were being torn off. At one point, while our bodies gradually started becoming one, we made eye contact and that's when he said 'I love you'.

I knew right there and then, with our bodies intertwined, we made love. 

The feelings that went through my body as he said those words were a mixture of passion, sadness, euphoria and longing. It's not like this was the first time he said it, but something about this moment felt so intensely pure to me. 

I miss you, Morgado.

hello.

 

hi. it's been a while.

So I left you guys on the biggest cliffhanger of 2017 with that ending, sorry. I had a couple friends of mine text me if I was ever gonna finish the story and what happened to my blog. Honestly, I just forgot about it. 

After graduating high school, I got so caught up in life. New boyfriend, going to university, making new friends, trying new drugs. One thing I can say for sure though, 2017-2020 were the worst years of my life. 

I hated the relationship I was in. I hated him with all my guts and never even found him attractive, and yet I stayed for 2 years. Why? Lord knows. All I know is that I never loved him for a second, I was just bored. 

University? Also a mess. My first year of uni I got kicked out because I didn't have enough credits. I transferred to another school and I'm still there because your girl never learns to focus. 

Since 2017 I've lost a lot of friends. The "underwater snakes", as you guys may know, split up and I'm only in contact with 2 people out of the group. Besides Jer, I don't really have anyone else I consider a best friend. Yes of course I have friends at school and I still am on good terms with the people from ICU, but it's not like how it used to be. A lot has changed. 

He changed as well. 

He has two kids now. He moved back to The Netherlands after she became pregnant and lives with her in The Hague. They seem happy. 

I'm happy for him. 

But that chapter is closed and I haven't thought about him in almost 2 years, because now, 8 years later, I can finally admit that it was never love. Everyone thinks he's my first love, but he doesn't deserve that title. 

Alexandre does. 

I've dated my fair share of men. I tried so hard to find the love that I wrote about in my songs, but I always knew it was in vain and out of boredom. Maybe that's why I only wrote break up songs for over 7 years, since I never knew what love felt like. 

Until I met Alex. 

We met in the most romantic but unromantic way possible. 

It was during my study abroad in Portugal that we met. I was in the train with my friends on the way home from the beach and right in front of me was standing the most handsome guy I had ever seen in my life. From his physique, to his hair, body and tattoos. I wanted him. I turned around and told Jer that he was my dream guy and most of the time the story stops there, but not this time. I don't know what divine energy gave me the courage to do what I did, because remind you, we were at the beach all day and I looked like a burned chicken nugget, but I walked up to him and said the lamest sentence ever said in human history:

"Hey, can I just say.. you're really hot. Like really hot" 

Someone gaslight gatekeeper girlboss me, please.

He gave me a quick head nod and thank you, and I didn't expect much from it, tbh. I just felt like I needed to tell him how handsome he was.

and it worked.

Right before the last stop of the train, he asked for my instagram and I asked him if he was single. He told me it was complicated and replied the same, as I was also kind of "seeing" someone at that point. After we parted ways, I decided to DM him with, again, the lamest sentence ever:

"hello future husband" 

seriously, light me on fucking fire. I got the driest "hey" back and after some small talk I kind of forget about him for a month. Until he invited me for drinks in one of the last weeks of my study abroad. I got ready but he was still at work, so I invited him over to my place at night. Yes people, the introverted Ira invited a random stranger to her house at 1AM for drinks and drugs while living abroad on her own. My mother would be so proud. 

And the rest is history. We spent the most wonderful 20 days I had left together and I knew, I wanted him for the long run. I didn't have much hope at first, because with him living in Lisbon and me living in Amsterdam, how could we make long distance relationship actually work out?

Yet here we are, almost a year later, planning to move in together. 

Do you really wanna know why?

There he was. 

The last guy I kissed before I sobered up.

I couldn't approach him sober, I had to get drunk again and fast. So instead of walking up to him I made a U-turn towards the bar. I drank half a bottle of tequila in a matter of seconds. Not a single drop left. I wanted more, I needed more. I kept on telling myself that I was trying to get wasted so I could throw myself at that fine young man again. I kept looking for more alcohol.

Everything that would make me forget about what had just happened in the bathroom.

Bingo, a full bottle of vodka. I felt like a obese kid in a candy store, my happiness was indescribable. Smiling from ear to ear I reached out to this bottle of heavenly poison. Well, I tried. Someone held me back before I could.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing now?"

Great, him again. The one person at this party that I didn't want to see. I wanted to scream and tell him to mind his own goddamn business but I couldn't find the strength. Who the fuck does he think he is? Why is he taking care of me like I mean something to him? Why was he acting like a fucking boyfriend all of a sudden? He lost that title months ago. On the other hand, one part of me was happy. He didn't leave. He didn't stay put in the bathroom. He went after me. Did I still mean something to him?

Again, I hadn't noticed that tears were falling freely from my eyes. Thank god he couldn't see them. My stare was fixated at my fucked up Dr. Martens. I wanted to look up and meet his eyes but I couldn't do it. Not again.
I was avoiding his stare like the plague and he knew exactly why. We both knew that the moment I'd look up shit would go down. I would either be throwing hands or making out with this man. Oh yeah, remember the 10 shots I took before he held me back? Yeah.. I'm feeling those right now.

I couldn't do it. I can't put myself through that pain again twice in the same night. Eventually he would get tired of this, right? I do have to say, from where he was standing, if he looked down, there was one nice ass view. Proud lover of my boobs, fight me.

Distracted by my boobs, I didn't realize his hand was moving. All of a sudden he grabbed my face and forced me to look up at him. Fuck, that was sexy as hell.

This time his eyes weren't empty. His eyes were filled with something.

It wasn't the connection we lost, it was fire.

His face was a mix of anger, sadness and exhaustion. His body was tense and his grip on my cheeks tightened to the point it started to hurt but I was too focused on his gaze to even feel that pain. He didn't look like the 19 year old guy I started dating way back. He looked like a man ready to take on the whole world and let me tell you, it looked sexy as fuck. If it wasn't for our fight in the bathroom or the intense glaring I'd bang him right there, on the kitchen counter, in front of everyone. I swear to God, I'd probably looked like a hamster. Or a fish..you know Miss Puff, or whatever her name was, from Spongebob. That type of fish, what's it called agai-PUFFER FISH. I swear, I looked like a puffer fish at that moment but he didn't seem to care. He wasn't even looking at my boobs, the disrespect.

"You wanna know why? You wanna know why I dumped you in such a fucked up way? You wanna know why I blocked you everywhere?"

And that's when I heard the words that took away my happy thoughts about banging him. The words I thought I would never hear. The answer I thought I would never get.

That's when he said:

"I..."

-to be continued-

Why?

Two bottles of wine, nine tequila shots and 6 beers later.

There were about 200 red cups on the floor, some guy was puking his guts out in the corner and a couple was making out on the sofa. My friends were either killing their liver or dancing to Suavemente by Elvis Crespo.

My head was spinning and my world was starting to get blurry. How did I end up like this? Oh wait, that's right, alcohol. This party was supposed to be the party of the year, and it was. We did it. We hosted the best houseparty in history. This was one for the books.

Then why did I feel so empty?

Everyone was having a blast and here I am, walking away from the fun and trying not to pass out. Something was missing. It wasn't alcohol because 95% of my blood was now replaced by vodka. It weren't my friends or my potential baes either, everyone I loved was around me.

Well, almost everyone. There was still one person I couldn't get off my mind.

I was a mess. I could feel it. My hair was all fucked up, make up smeared and I was too fucking wasted to even focus on walking. 

That's when I heard the one voice that sobered me up immediately.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?"

It was him. That raspy yet soft voice that I could always recognize, even in the state I was in at that moment. He was right. Why was I doing this to myself? What did I gain from drinking my brain cells away? Shit's expensive. 

I felt myself slipping away. My legs started to feel weak and I could feel myself losing balance.

That's when he grabbed me by my arm. In my moments of weakness he was always the one keeping me steady. Just like tonight, six months after we'd last seen each other.

I finally knew why I'd been such a hoe all night, grinding and kissing 6 different guys. I finally knew why I wanted to drink all my worries away. I finally knew why I felt so empty. I finally knew what I needed.

I needed him.

I needed him to scold me about my reckless behavior. I needed him to hold my hair while I was puking my guts out. I needed him to force me in to a shower (fully clothed, pervert) to sober me up. I needed him to get me some hangover food. I needed him to see the real mess I was after he left me. I needed him to look me in to my bloodshot eyes, pleading for him to answer the question that's been on my mind for the past 6 months.

"Why?" 

At this moment we were both sitting on the bathroom floor. He looked at me so confused. Of course, who wouldn't be when someone randomly asks you why? My clothes were soaked and my makeup was all over my face from the sober-up-shower (eyeliner still poppin', waterproof bishhh). 

"What do you mean, why?", he asked. 

I turned my head to look him straight in the eyes, looking for that connection. Could he still see what was bothering me in my eyes like we used to? 

Why did you do it? Why didn't you let my drunk ass fend for myself? Why did you suddenly decide to cut off all contact with me but take care of me right now as if you care about me? Why did you plan so many dates with me to tell me ten minutes later that we should stay friends? Why did you tell me that you couldn't wait for me to meet your family when it was never in your intentions to start something serious with me? Why did you flirt with her when you knew she was my best friend? Why couldn't you come up with a better excuse than "I'm busy with school, I'm busy"? Why did you caress my cheek to turn me yours the next day? Why did you leave?

Why? 

My head was full with these questions but did I ask any of them? No. 

I couldn't see it anymore. I couldn't feel it anymore. When I used to look into his eyes I could see a whole universe. I'd see a childish soul. I'd see a strict, business man. I'd see a scared little boy. 

I'd see the man I used to love. 

Now I only saw dark, empty eyes looking at me like I was some stranger.

I didn't realize I was crying at this moment. Tears were falling freely from my eyes.

I didn't cry because I still wanted him. I didn't cry because of all the alcohol in my system. I didn't cry because I missed him.

I cried because I lost such a special connection with someone. A connection that took us months to build. A connection I thought I would never find again.

Then it hit me.

The bond we had was gone and so should this pity party I was dwelling in for months.

Stand up, fix your make up and get back to being the best hostess of 2017. I'd probably missed a good 35 minutes of the party, 35 minutes I could have spend drinking some more spiked punch or creating some drama because who doesn't love drama.

So I did. 

I got up, and walked out of that bathroom. I could hear him calling my name. I could hear him trying to get up and almost slipping. I tried my best to not look back and just walk out of that door to never look back again. I was so close. 

"Please"

That word. That word is what made me stop in my tracks and turn around one last time. His posture was weak and for a second I think I saw it. I could almost see that spark in his eyes that I thought we'd lost but I shook it off. It was probably just my imagination. 

"Enjoy the party."

Those were the last words I ever said to him. 

The image of his eyes kept popping up in my head. It's not real. You were just imagining it. It was never love just lust. It was all fake.

Was it? 

Fuck that, let's find that dude I was kissing before.

Blue Dogs & Black Birthmarks: Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Should've swiped left.

08-10-2016

That was the day I swiped right. If only I swiped left that day, things wouldn’t have been so complicated.

You know what, let me tell you everything. Let me tell you the story of the one and only guy that could put me in depression for months.

So it all started in October when I downloaded Tinder because some dickhead I dated (if you can even call it dating) end September decided to show his true colors. I think almost everyone who reads my blog knows that I fall for the the typical fuckboy. They just make me swoon and sweat and I can’t.

Okay back to the story.

So I started swiping, praying to God that my new boy toy would help me forget my old one.

Stop.

There he was. I don’t know what came over me at that moment but I just fell in love. He had something. There was one picture of him showing his back and damn that booty was poppin’, lemme tell ya that. He looked familiar too. I started to think about it but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Then it hit me. It was THAT guy.

A few months earlier another friend of mine downloaded Mint (like Tinder but almost no one uses it) and she saw this Asian dude. She texted me like “Homegurl, I found your next husband, you’re gonna love him”. 

It was him.

She sent me some pictures and I got thirsty  so I told her to hit me up. Eventually we forgot about it because only creepy old white dudes use Mint, so she deleted it.

Back to October.

I immediately swiped right and have mercy on my soul, we were a match.

I didn’t think much of it. It would be one of those “hey how are you good me too great” type of conversations. At least, that’s what I told myself.

Buzz.

I got a new message.

And this is something I will never forget. The worst fucking pick up line ever. Are you ready?

“Hey are you summer? Cuz you’re hot ;)”

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

I was desperate, thirsty and bored so I looked past his failed attempt of flirting and talked to him.

Best mistake ever.

We clicked, like for real. We moved from Tinder to Facebook and let me tell you, a dolphin was born. Every time the Messenger notification came, I dived. What happened to the whole wait a few minutes before you open a message rule? It disappeared.

I even spend my whole trip to Barcelona texting him. I needed a Go Fund Me page after that trip because my phone bill was hella high.

At this point we were talking to each other like we were in a relationship. Remember we hadn’t even met. It just clicked.

So I came back from Barcelona and we'd discussed it for a really long time now.

Let's have a date.

We started planning and thinking about what we could do for our very first meeting. Dinner would be awkward because what if I spilled some pasta or got something stuck between my teeth. An amusement park would be a bit over the top (and remind ya, EXPENSIVE) and a coffee date was a serious no-go, we all know why.

So let me present you our first date.

The woods. The fucking woods.

Who in their right minds would have their first date, with a guy she met on Tinder, IN THE FUCKING WOODS? 

Me. I did.

How that ended up, that's for another day.