25 going on 12

If I was in grade 7 I would be SO cool right now. Aside from the fact that for once in my life I would be the most *ahem* developed of my friends; BPP just picked up at the roller rink. Yeah baby, love on 8 wheels.

A mate convinced me to go with him to a roller disco at Kings Cross on Friday night and amongst the tight pants, sweat-bands and tube tops, I found a sk8terboi (or however Avril spells it) to call my very own.

We held hands, played tag, shared a lemonade (and bacardi), he told me I had pretty eyes, I told him he was really strong, he walked me to the tube, I wrote my number on his hand and he called later to make sure I got home ok– it was just dreamy. Unfortunately not sure the ‘relationship’ will survive outside the rarified atmosphere of the roller rink, which means another bloody ‘it’s not you it’s me’ conversation in the near future. Oh to actually be 12! My best friend could’ve taken care of that tedious task at little lunch and I’d be left free to pursue other things… like ridiculously hoping Mr. Disaster Waiting to Happen will call.