A Nasty, Nasty Little Boy
Oooooooo!!!! I HATE that child. I HATE him, I HATE him! This guy is spreading tons of rumors about me (TOTAL lies, mind you!) with my friends (and to people who probably would be my friends). Most of my friends are like "Nah, that's not Manon. She'd never do something like that," like Tucker (God bless Tucker!). But still. Other people's moms are raising their eyebrows. Here's the deal.This completely idiotic guy (who used to kinda sorta be my friend, but he was too much of a jerk, so I ditched him) is telling people that I wear Britney-Spears-esque clothes - that he and his sister (she even says she saw me, too) spotted me walking down the street in a tiny, belly-baring top and hot pants. Then they both said I was a goth. Now, I have nothing against goths, but I am not one of them, nor will I ever be!!! Saying I wear dark make-up and wear black clothes. OK, so I do smoky, sexy eyes sometimes for parties. So? And just because I wear black pants, though sometimes with a black shirt, doesn't mean I'm a goth. Also, they've contradicted themselves. Goth chicks usually keep themselves pretty covered. I think the most revealing they'd wear is a miniskirt with tights and a corset. They wouldn't dress like a hoochie mama, as these two brats are stating.
Now, earlier tonight, I learned that this dude told Tucker that the reason why I broke up with one of my exes was because I asked him to have sex with me and he said no. Oh my gosh, that is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. One, the reason I broke up with him was because in four months we hadn't gone anywhere. It was better we were friends. And two, you see this ring on my finger? *holds up hand* This is a purity ring, get it? That means I'm saving myself for my husband. Thank God Tucker defended me and didn't believe it *pats Tucker's head*
Now this guy's mom is wanting nothing to do with me. Well, good riddance, I guess.
Oh, one last thing. He also said that I did my first bf in the backseat of a car. Number one, ew. Number two, ew. And number 3, ew.
Bad thing is, this bastard goes to my school, though on different days. What if he was telling this to my, my teachers! Or other classmates! OK, breathe, Manon, breathe. Deep, slow breaths.
Tomorrow I've got a mind to go up to his house, ring the door bell, and break the son of a bitch's nose when he answers. Really, I just might.
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