She questioned what the relationship was, questioned endlessly what it meant, what she meant, where it was going, how soon it would get somewhere else. She asked why the phone didn’t ring, why there was a lack of correspondence from his side, why there was a lack of anything from his side. The boy didn’t know what to say or write. He had many things to do and had trouble fitting it all in. when they did talk their conversations were diverse and for her reassuring, she loved to look into his soft eyes and when he was near her she felt calm, excited and happy.

If she wasn’t questioning she was day dreaming up situations that were not perhaps suitable, but she was a lusty girl with one thing on her mind, the movies teach us to watch out for the adolescent boys but I tell you now she was the out of control, hormonal nightmare that parents fret about. Again the boy was unsure what the correct protocol was although perhaps he might have wanted to experiment with some details at some point in the future, who could say. Although some of her letters said that she hated what men wanted from her and that they could take it so easily.

She couldn’t think straight, she didn’t really know what she wanted, she thought she knew exactly what she wanted but looking back on that scared little girl who constantly demanded to be told her worth because she didn’t know what it was, and I feel so sad. I want to stop her and tell her to calm down, I want to stroke her hair and kiss her on the forehead. I want to tell her that everything will be ok and that she doesn’t need to panic so much. Love is not like the story we are told or even observe for ourselves from our olders and betters (ha ha) it is an ever changing part of life that moves and changes like a river. It can be sweet, it can be bitter, it can be hot and it can be cold. You don’t believe me do you that it can be cold, clearly you’ve never hated someone you love. Love can make you cry and it can make you laugh, it can give you strength and then knock you to the floor. It confuses and confounds by immeasurable amounts. Love whispers in your ear and then slaps you in the face.

In the end it was a very short romance with the exception that the girl never forgot the boy and never forgave herself for being impatient and the resulting feelings for her were difficult to put in to words, as love was perhaps too strong and like was definitely too weak.

You have to be understanding, offer advice without ever expecting it to be used. give love, encouragement and support.

A shoulder to cry on and the offer of a bottle of wine never goes amiss.

To be a really good friend you have to look past all the horrible parts of a person and just concentrate on that shining quality that makes that person. If they are your friend you will love them and you wont judge them.

To be a really good friend you have to be honest, but only if the friend can handle it, honesty is far too brutal for most. If they are a really good friend too they will appreciate honesty.

To be a friend is to stay in contact, it doesn’t have to be every day, but every now and then, one or other will know when it’s been too long.

You can’t grip on to friends; you need to give them space to have their own time, to appreciate your absence. It makes it all the better when you meet up.

hug your friends like you are never going to see them again, unless you are angry with them. It is ok to be angry with friends, and sometimes it is the natural death of a friendship. People grow and change, some friends can’t give you what you want or need, let them go off on their path and don’t morn the loss, there are plenty of new strangers to become friends with.