Mirror, Mirror on the Wall...

I have kept a diary since November 21, 1998 – my fourteenth birthday.

Here lies 10 years of unadulterated indiscretions for your viewing pleasure.

I like to think of them as my magic mirror on the wall. They reflect my belief that everything is about me, and they can’t lie.

Let’s start at the beginning:

The date is December 4, 1998. I am a freshly minted fourteen-year-old and by the sound of it, I am already suffering from a serious case of the Boy Crazies.

The first prince charming to see page time is Tony Vargas. According to my magic mirror Tony is…

“a sweet, beautiful sophomore who is so perfect for me! He is dark skinned, polite, practically gorgeous, AND he likes me.”

Except…

SIX other boys get mentioned in the first four pages of my diary, which covers a mere 3-day period. Tony may not be “the one.”

Ian – “is like my best friend, and its totally obvious that he wants me. Dating Tony should teach him to wait too long for love.”

Mike – “poked me in the stomach and told me he knew I wanted it.”
Very romantic.

Tom – “is pretty cute, but he told Ian that I had a jew nose.”
Ignorant prick.

Nick – “is like an older version of Ian, except he plays the guitar and drives an awesome 1996 Toyota Corolla.” 
I’m wet just thinking about it.

Mosher – “fingered some girl in the bathroom and tried to get me to smell his finger.” 
Sounds like a charmer.

Frasier – “is a freshman. He is so cool! He’s in Forensics and stuff – but he smokes and he is a punk.”
Thank god.

At this point, I am wondering – Did I know any females other than bathroom slut girl? How did I pull off a 4.0? When do boys grow up and become men? Oh wait…

Lesson #1: There are lots of boys in High School. Try to go back somehow. Drew Barrymore proved this works in Never Been Kissed, and Hollywood is just like real life.

Addictions and Syndromes

Hello. My name is Jessica, I am twenty-seven years old and I am BOY CRAZY (Hello Jessica...). I discovered the opposite sex sometime around my twelfth birthday, and since that fateful day, I have found it difficult to focus on much else. I like them in all shapes and sizes, and because a girls gotta eat, I have done my fair share of sampling.

My therapist says I have unrealistic expectations about romance.

If believing that I am actually a secret princess destined for prince charming is unrealistic, then she may be right (this one time). Luckily, my “Disney Syndrome” is not as out of control as my “Seinfeld Syndrome”: a dangerous condition which forces me to turn and run if a man exhibits any sign of inadequacy. Real life examples include:

“I just can’t get over his tiny hands.”

“He puts ketchup on everything.”

“His dog kept looking at me weird.”

“I found Nickelback on his ipod.”

“He said the words ‘cool beans’ with a straight face.”

Don’t get me wrong, I am always hoping the next man will be prince charming and the few times I have fallen in love, its been in the frightening Fatal Attraction sort of way.

So, after two bottles of wine and enough cheese to kill a toddler, I have decided to do something rash. I am going to consult the only person who won’t lie to me (other than Walt). I am going to read and share my childhood diaries in an attempt to better understand my addiction.

WARNING: There is a strong possibility that this will be entertaining, but also potentially embarrassing.

Ready, set, stay tuned for the Boy Crazy Diaries.