Sour Cherries.

I apologize blog. I apologize for not writing in you for two months - I am a terrible person. Life goes on, what can I say?

Two whole months of my life that will be completely unaccounted for.
To be fair, I wrote a massive post about my journey to Callander, but this stupid piece of shit system deleted the whole thing before it was posted. It was really long... Like, at least three miles worth of type. I was pissed.

Bryce gave me keys to his condo this past weekend.
Normally getting keys to your boyfriend's condo wouldn't really be something that I considered blog worthy, but the fact that the keys cost $160.00 (I'm not going to lie), made me feel gooey and possibly (although I will never admit to it), a bit weepy.
What was strange about the moment was that my friend Eda was standing in our presence while he handed over the keys. It must have been a very strange moment for her because I am very sure that the passion between Bryce and I was very evident. Some may say that it took the shape of a garage door opener.
It is hard to want to slip your boyfriend the tongue and not be able to do it for the sake of the public eye. God damn you eye, God damn you.

So moving onto funnier stories: My first boyfriend ever.
While first boyfriends are generally a funny topic without the aide of a story, my first romantic adventure is by far the greatest one ever recorded, period.
Allen was eighteen when I started dating him - I was fourteen. He was also studying to be a pastor and invited me to his college "semi formal" (y'know the only college's that have semi formals are the ones that God owns).
Anyway, it ended badly on Valentine's Day. I broke it off with him after I gave him the soundtrack to Titanic solely for the reason that he wouldn't put out (He wouldn't kiss me you perve! I was fourteen!). He punched a mirror and directly proceeded to remove my grade eight graduation photo from his computer, which served as his screen saver.

Yup. This is the stuff child molesters are made of.

Allen barely kept in touch over the years.
He became one of those lunatics that sent out mass emails to all his friends outlining how George Bush was doing God's work along with other nonsense. This only caused me to return the MASS message, correctly outlining with bible verses and common sense how George Bush was in fact the devil.

He didn't like this.

Our relationship hit the breaking point when he tried to convert me back into Christianity (after reminding me that I had committed the unforgivable sin), in a Starbucks. He gave me a panic attack and later commented, "Jeeze, sounds like you're a bit out of shape. Maybe you should walk more."
I tried to explain to him that pushing people into corners by pressuring them with guilt that was branded into their brains at a very early age wasn't healthy for our relationship. He considered it the truth and that my guilt was God telling me that I had fucked up.
Later that evening I sat in front of my webcam topless explaining to him: "If you don't want to talk to me Allen, just turn off the webcam. Jeeze, it must suck to have someone pressure you into doing something that makes you uncomfortable. Why are you breathing so hard? You must be out of shape."

Apparently my line of reasoning didn't equate to the glory of God and so he stopped our conversations.

I can't say that I'm feeling a great loss.

I found out a couple days ago that Allen is now engaged.
This was relayed to me because his Facebook had sent out a request, asking his friends to give him money so he can take his bride to be on a three week honeymoon in Florida. Apparently he knows that God wants him to have a three week honeymoon. I wonder if three weeks of romping around in the sunny south on someone's charity is what God intended the 10% of our earnings to go towards.*

"If everyone I knew just sent me 20 dollars, I'd have more than enough money to go on vacation for three weeks! If everyone I knew sent me a little bit more, think of what we could do together!"

Ten dollars he was coveting the fuzzy pink handcuffs.

What the fuck was I thinking becoming a Pastry Chef?
Its clear that all the money is in the church and now that the guilt of God's love is evidently paying for my Brother to get his cherry popped, the only question I have left is:

Where do I sign up?

*It was later made evident to Allen that asking his brothers and sisters in Christ to send him money so he can fuck was not appropriate. He asked everyone to kindly disregard his request.