I am so sorry wasn’t able to get a post up yesterday, I ironically had a football match on Monday night, (when I normally start my next day post) and a party afterwards, resulting in my absence yesterday from school (My sleeping until 2 pm, and my illness until this morning was my reason for not being able to write the post in time). Tragic I know.


The pull football had in England is of similar strength that it has in my town in the winter (first semester/term). My school; students, teacher, parents, the entire town, prides itself on the home football matches that happen every Monday. (No not Friday like every high school movie, but on a Monday night). This is why in my area it is common to have parties on a Monday night and if you are someone like me that means very likely you are going to miss a Tuesday school day. (If you haven’t caught on my work hard and party hard a motto I live by as well as literally everyone in London, then you know now.)

It was funny because when I lived back in London my family was divided between Arsenal, which my dad supported and Chelsea, which was supported by both my mum and my brother.then me who being stuck in a boarding school where all the girls prioritised Lacrosse, meant that my football knowledge was awful. I even remember once my dad got me a ticket with him to the Arsenal directors box just so I would support his team. It was sad because, my indifference to the sport meant people who lived in America, knew more about a British sport then me.

When I first moved here, surprisingly the respect people had for the footballers in our town was not shocking because it formed the basis of every American movie, (jocks ruled the school). You could immediately pick them out from the crowd, in their varsity jackets, that are just so iconic. Their tough, obnoxious, loud exterior and of course their obsession with smashing and dashing. It was of course your classic boarding school boy (my understanding of a situation always results in making a comparison  sorry if it’s annoying), someone who truly believed the world owed them something. However at the same time no one can deny unless you are truly lucky, that you have fancied one of these boys in your lifetime or at least someone who holds these characteristics.

Anyway upon moving to America, although initially being so uninterested in football because of my lack of knowledge of it, it soon became clear as school continued it was unavoidable. First of all I had become good friends with a couple of boys from the team and my brother had began to play, after being forced to do years of Rugby at his old school. My love for my brother meant that me watching his games were mandatory (even though these weren’t on a Monday night because he was not part of the varsity team anymore of a recreational one because he was not the best), so I was forced to brush up my knowledge on this sport. Also the boy that I had met at the party the previous week, I found out was on his football team and we had been talking non-stop (about football a bit) since we last had met, which also allowed me to gain knowledge about the sport. All these factors made me become more well-informed about football. I had even started to learn the rule of on-side and during my gym lessons, I tried to implement it, although I was not a natural, more like shit.

I had now began, when I was free to come out to the garden and attempt to play with my brother, although most of the time he would make me be the goalie and try to smack the ball at me.

However my main port of football came from a boy (who is a friend) I was becoming closer and closer with was (he who no the named) but the boy I had in my AP English and History class with. We now began to eat lunch together every Friday and Wednesday when we both finished the same time before lunch. Because he was also a football player we always discussed the sport (not just the sport, but my interest on the members of the team of course), this became even more knowledgeable about the sport despite still being absolutely awful at it. I remember last Tuesday after school, when I was waiting my brother to finish practice, because my mum made me drive him home, (Jack is what he is going to be called to make my life easier), Jack because he played in a different team to my brother, (who was still no where as good as his peers, due to only his recent dedication to the sport), he was willing to play with me. We kicked the ball about (I attempted to), and I tried to score a goal against him, but failed to hit the target on basically every shot (sad I know). Anyway although my football skills never progressed up until the present, both my knowledge and understanding of the game did which encouraged me to watch them and not just go to the party afterwards.

Football parties:

These were the best from my experience, despite Saturday nights being fun, nothing can compare to the rowdiness and inhibitions of Monday night post victory euphoria.

Of course due to my lack of investment into our high school football team either team victory would result in me and some of my friends (the ones who didn’t have boyfriends that were on the team) would attend the competitors victory party (provided they were under 30 minutes away from our town). All these football after parties would be jokes and chill, because you would arrive in your baggy jumpers which you had to watch the game in less you wanted to freeze and leggings. You would just drink and smoke hash or weed until you passed out or threw up and get with a someone you didn’t know for a dare. It was basically a man cave type party if that makes sense but thats what made it fun, you could do whatever your heart desired without getting judged.

Each time I attended one of these parties (I don’t want to paint myself in a bad light, but rather tell the truth), I have woken up the next day in the same house, with the same clothes on feeling absolutely hung over, because as you probably are already aware my motto is go hard or go home.

Thanks for reading

Any questions comment

Sorry I wasn’t able to update yesterday


New boys

This post is hard because I want to tell you my story but the boy situation reaches the present: so sorry for the spoilers.

Before I moved: when in London I went to an all girls boarding school, so during term time it was almost impossible to speak to a boy, unless it was a rare weekend when you went home. However during the holiday, when I came home, I was unleashed along with the entirety of the boarding school population to the male species.

My male friends were predominantly made up of the boys I would summer with (go on holiday with) and those my family were friendly with. So again I still had limited interaction with the male species. However, once I turned the rightful age of 15, my male best friend and I, a boy that I spent almost everyday with when at home, as he only lived  a couple of doors down from me, found out the concept of ‘friends with benefits’. And at the rightful age of 15 years and months my virginity was lost. Now I don’t know what’s normal where you live, but where I did in London, I was by no means the first, and surprisingly to many about 3/4 of the Kensington teen population had lost their ‘sacred’ virgin status before me. This was due to boys and girls in my area being exposed to drugs and alcohol from a young age and clubbing being experienced from the age of 15. Also I think once someone loses their virginity it become a race not to be the last and I remember during year 10 it became a trend to have sex. 

I remember after that we continuously maintained our relationship throughout the whole of year 10 and 11, neither of us got into other relationships and even though I was speaking to people throughout this period, none were serious enough in resulting in the end of our ‘Best friends with benefits’. As much as he loved me, he was never in love with me and I can proudly say that it was mutual, I think looking back it was partly because I knew he only wanted my body at night and not during the day, he didn’t want an emotional relationship and most importantly he wanted other girls company’s as well as mine, which made me hold back, in hindsight I probably could have loved him if I put my heart out there. 

Anyway moving on to year 11 summer when I met the first boy I was infatuated with, who I stopped my ‘Friends with benefits relationship’ for. I met him through my younger brother who went to an all boys boarding school, while watching one of his rugby matches because my parents couldn’t make it (I think from my blogs you will begin to understand that my parents were mostly absent.) Anyway, we continued to ‘talk’ on snap chat then progressed to face time during my school term (I remember being thrilled when I got his number, lol).

I remember my first time spending a long period of time together, we were invited to a mutual friends party. I remember the dress code being smarter because it was at a bar in London, and I remember wearing my best dress (for me and admittedly a tiny bit for him), getting my makeup and hair done. I remember that night getting both high and drunk (well not literally remember), and we all know that is a very dangerous concoction if you have ever experienced it. After we had moved from the bar to club and finished our night off, I remember waking up in my house in my dress with no clue what had happened the night before. As my friends recalled, he had taken me home, put me in bed and put the duvet over me, I’m pretty sure that when I became boy crazy of (boy singular crazy) in my case. Our relationship began in August and we date eight months, after breaking up in April, after I found out he had been constantly cheating on me. My heart shattered and my sole broke, however this was worsened when my parents told me we were leaving to America just a few weeks after. I had told the boy I loved him, I had had sex with him I had shared my life with him, and despite how many times he had told me he was “sorry” and “made the biggest mistake of his life” and that “he loved me”. I knew I could never forgive him and I believe thats what made me try and isolate myself in the summer and the beginning of the school year. 

Thats right you guessed it it’s been a difficult 2018. 

Current situation: I remember when my relationship ending distancing myself from the possibility of being with boys, not getting with anyone despite watching him party with girls all summer (on Snapchat). America I have to admit meant the end of our relationship was more final, despite his constant calls I received over the summer from him. Anyway, moving on. During my first few weeks of school, because I was now at a mixed school and virtually spending practically everyday with boys was inevitable. (I have to say an all girls boarding school definitely did not prepare me for a mixed school) I made gradual friends with boys, although I was admittedly seeking friendships with girls more, but as I went to more parties or more parties without getting with or hooking up as American’s say it, people became more curious, inquisitive about my life in London, did I have a boyfriend, basically. I remember being desperate to not divulge into my life, believing it is better to keep them operated, and I definitely didn’t want to bring up memories of my past relationship, so I blocked out all the questions, gave zero fucks and finally decided to move on.

By the way, it wasn’t external pressure that resulted in my moving on, but internal pressure and knowing that my ex was out there fucking the entirety of West London and probably South West London. 

These thought started to lead me down the same path I was on prior to my relationship, having fun, maybe too much fun but I didn’t care. It may be classified as leading boys on, because I genuinely didn’t care about any of them. In a matter of weeks I had got with four boys, all of whom where good looking, and two of who I was talking to before I got with them (Make out, not sex). It was not until after then I realised that where I was, as I have previously said that gossip spreads like wildfire, people were judging me for thinks that I had never been judged about before, as I had always been a nun in relation to my friends, things that I definitely did not want to be known for.

I remember all this gossip pushing me back into the shell and led me to isolate myself from my new friends. I began to eat in the IT suite for a few days, not go out the next weekend. I took me two weeks too realise how little I cared about a reputation that would not define me, and I realised it was based on your ‘typical high school jealous girl’ (cliche I know). My friends were loyal and that relieved me from the constant pain I was feeling about missing my bed friends back home. 

But the good news, although it took me time to adapt to the new boys in Long Island and the difference in attitudes about boys, I have done successfully which has helped me get over my ex. 

I will continue to discuss boys in my present and passed 3 weeks, but don’t want to include anything that will take away from other accounts. 

Once again any questions comment and any thoughts on my structure and language. 














My first American party

It is currently 630 on a Monday morning and wrote this last night to publish this morning, please comment if any questions.

Now parties in England were a frequent occasion for me and where I lived in Kensington they were mad. Always Drink and always Drugs. Everyone was always on something whether it be weed, KET, Coke. Raves were mental and everyone could drink because everyone had a fake ID (by just borrowing a year aboves). Most people would get with randomers at clubs and most  people would definitely not remember their night the next morning. If you have ever been to a good rave, concert, party, you would know that when intoxicated, high or whatever these were fatal on your mind, body and soul.


Now before you judge me, what most people don’t understand about my friendship group was that it was incestuous. Everyone had sex. Everyone had sex with one another. But there was often very little drama. Relationships casual. Benefits more likely than love. However, when I moved to the suburbs of New York, I could barely comprehend the contrast of attitudes, it was crazy.

And now where I currently am in Long Island, families get involved in ‘drama’, things that in London would only involve the ‘kids’, gossip here spreads quicker than wild fire because nothing much is ever going on, and the difference between London is actually crazy.

This was all revealed to me at my first High school American party:

I remember taking a solid hour to dress up for my first party, partly because it would be in attendance by the majority of my peers. I had put on my favourite flared black jeans and a thrifted top that resembled clueless and barely covered my bra. I remember having no idea about the dress code, what the classic American party outfit would be, but I decided to stick with my relatively ‘out there’ fashion, and hopefully look relatively presentable. (I think my decision to go and look nice in hindsight was not to make impressions but that it was fuelled by insecurities or my wanting acceptance) I also remember my nerves, my hope to make proper senior acquaintances and also wishing for fun (This once again shows me that despite trying to fool myself I obviously did care about others thoughts of me). I also remember being especially thankful that this party would be for both the future junior and seniors, meaning I could go with my brother and therefore not be standing there awkwardly the entire time, (I don’t think you would have caught me there if it weren’t for my brother attendance).

We arrived late of course (I guarantee if you gain anything from this blog it will be understanding my tardiness). The party apparently started at 9 but I was not there until 11. Now, I have never been to a ‘Freshman’ or ‘Sophomore party’, but all my friends now (spoiler) constantly describe them as lame or boring, but in comparison to London club nights and raves and even parties, these ‘upperclassman’ parities were similar even though we didn’t have to pay the typical 10 pounds (dollars) just to enter. What I can say about this American party was that everyone had a judgemental attitude,in hindsight that may be because I was new, but it seemed excruciating eat the time. Also, not everyone was down to get drunk or down for fully focused on having a good time and some people (especially girls) were seeking the boy’s attention.  I explicitly remember being desperate for fun at that point, I know sad but  imagine being cooped up in your house for two weeks and only seeing your friends on face time.

Anyway continuing with the vague memory of my first American party:

I arrived at a teenagers house (who’s name was anonymous to me in that moment). I immediately walked in to witness boys and girls getting with each other, people with red basic cups that you see in movies and enough people that could fit in a club. (first impression was that it was a typical American party, that I had witnessed a thousand times in a movie).

It’s funny because you ofter think that movie’s are fake but in that moment I truly believed that high school was going to be identical to the movies.

I walked in literally feeling all eyes on me (cliche I know, but nevertheless true), people seemed intent on meeting or looking at the new British boy and girl. I was never really one for making friends and in England I had relied on my best friends and their extroverted confident attitude to introduce me to people, but at that moment I remember  learning a vital lesson, that I would have to make an effort, despite previously and naively thinking that I would be happy with no friends for a whole year.

This is when I decided to walk to the kitchen confidently, and pour a drink for myself next to a group of girls. (Of course it was 90 percent vodka and 10 percent Coke, I needed my nerves to dissipate quickly). The girls immediately began to talk to me, obsessing over my accent, wanting to know why I moved, thankfully complementing my outfit that had previously put me on edge. And just how my drink quickly disappeared so did my nerves, I had made a friend or two and I remember that making me so fucking happy. (I mean obviously I could classify them as friends yet, but it was obvious they were nice girls.)

I remember dancing in the middle of the dance floor with the girls I had just met, talking to a fuckload of people boys and girls, but that night essentially was a blur, a fun blur for sure. And although it wasn’t London and I wasn’t partying with my best friends I had a laugh and began to realise that it was possible to have a decent year.

oh and BTW the next day I was vomiting non stop, the similarities to London were crazy.


moving (first week)

I left London.

I arrived in New York, this is my journey:

When I moved to Long Island New York (area not disclosed), I imagined it to be like any high school movie, cliche and cliquey. You would have the Drama geeks, the geeks, the populars, the jocks, the cheerleaders. I moved having no identity, I realised I could start again leave my closed off, posh girl, cold, stereotypical boarding school girl identity behind. However, I soon realised that I actually didn’t care and the person my school had nurtured me into being, may not have fit the classic American vibe, but I wasn’t American.

My loneliness was apparent as soon as I arrived at my new house, but I didn’t really mind, I was focused on achieving great SATs so it did not matter that I had essentially wasted my first year of A levels by moving, but I soon realised I was eventually going to be forced to leave my bed and meet new people, despite my intention being ignoring everyone and everything until I graduated and the move back to London for university, but I was fooling myself if I believed I could go unnoticed for a whole year.

The Town that I moved, I soon realised could be described as minuscule, especially in comparison to London and reminded my of an episode of ‘One Tree Hill’ or ‘Friday night Lights’, despite being in New York. There was about 10 restaurants on the high street and was nothing like anything I had experienced in London, or even at my time in the countryside.

For the first week I continued to revise, work hard, hang out with my brother who became my best friend and stay in my room (boring I know), but I wanted to keep my presence on the street limited. However it was inevitable living in a small town with a small population and a small variety of restaurants, people would begin to question who these British people were invading America. And here, begins my first proper encounter with High School life:

Me and my brother had decided that day, after about a week of living in America that we were going to a small Japanese restaurant, as we had not eaten sushi since we had arrived and were beginning to get withdrawal symptoms from avocado maki. We stuffed our faces as usual eating at an equivalent to 30 miles an hour and after half an hour receiving the check and heading to Ben and Jerry’s for an ice-cream.

This is where and when we encountered our first proper conversations with a group of high schoolers…

My initial interpretation that American teens were rude and confrontational were correct. This group of boys, who I later found out to be going into their junior year just like my brother, as soon as we had ordered ice-cream asked who we were. No Sorry, or please or polite language just a “who are you?”. This I remember immediately made me role my eyes and stereotype them as egocentric boys who were entitled. However, my brother’s relatively extroverted attitude, unlike me who would have rather walked out that shop, began to make conversation with them, leading us to discuss our future high school characteristics and characters, as well as discuss our move the reasoning behind it for a long time.

By the time I left, my initial impressions had changed, but not too fantastic boys who I admired but decent, charming boys who were obvious ‘players’. With the constant flirting from that night, I immediately understood what an mixed American High school and town was going to be like. I soon unfortunately realised that going under the radar as a ‘British senior girl’ was not going to be successful, and with the benefit of hindsight buy initial thoughts were accurate.

However, I left alone soon after, allowing my brother to socialise with his new peers, along with my melted ice-cream which forced to throw it in the bin as it was uneatable and an invitation to a ‘summer party’ that Saturday night for the future seniors and juniors in my new town.