The Girl With The Nine Wests

We all have that unsure feeling in the gut of our stomach when we see an ex, regardless of what sex you are.

There is always the knot that refuses to loosen, the lump in the throat that won't dissolve and the shakes that threaten to start the next earthquake to rock the entire world. We try and remember the bad points about them but none ever spring to mind. We never remember the smelly feet, the way they sniff really loudly and it sounds like they're shifting a year's worth of mucus, or the way they made us cry after breaking a promise.

What happens, though, when 'it's not you, it's me' is right. What happens if it really was you? If it really was you then what happens when you realise it, but realise it too late and they've moved on? It seems that every relationship has its breaking point, some are more resiliant than others, but some are like thin glass; flick it and it breaks.

There's no way to glue the pieces back together to make it perfect again. It'll always be tainted and marked with cracks that will always show no matter how dark a room you put it in.

So what now? I say, pretend the cracks aren't there, or buy a new glass to share with the same person. Don't break this one and you will have Cinderella's happy ever after.

When my first ex and I broke up when we were sixteen, I let go of him emotionally but stayed good friends with him. He disappeared (seems to be a recurring theme) and when he re-appeared he was with another girl who he called princess. He used to call me princess. I made sure that I let go of him in all respects after that. The walls came up and the smiles became my mask, but I still had boyfriends and brief encounters.

Even though the walls stayed up, every guy left an impression. I never realise that the impression has been made until they return. A certain guy returned into my life and shook it up despite the fact that I kept my walls up higher than before he still hurt me a little bit. It was the fact that he appeared to be truthful and then blocked me from his life, I even have the conversation as proof of his apparent honesty. All my friends warned me about him the first time. Notorious ladies man and all around player.

I think that the chance of a challenge is too hard to resist. Finding an honest man is a big enough challenge nowadays.  Finding a man with brains and looks is an even harder challenge. Combining the two is near impossible. At university, it should be easy to find an intelligant honest man, especially at a university that specialises in teaching. But no, the men are merely boys stealing their father's Playboy magazines and staring at women, wanting to do unimaginable things to them.

It seems that the male population are watching too many sex DVDs and the way they treat women is a reflection of that. They don't open the doors, they expect women to be able to bend in unimpossible ways and they expect it to be as easy as blinking. But what happens when the men realise that the girl they are next to is someone that they haven't stopped thinking about since they woke up half an hour ago. They're not thinking about the way she avoided (or gave in to) sex, or the way their fingers felt against their skin, they're remembering the way they smiled at them and the way their eyes never left theirs and their heart starts to race again.

That is love. Ok so what happens when you lose that person and rediscover them? The memories come flooding back even though you mentally locked them away for all eternity.You're heart remembers the beat that it skipped and it skips that same beat when you see the eyes that never left yours the first time you met.

That's what happened when the ex I mentioned came back into my life with a girlfriend, but a few months down the line he is single again. My heart starts to race and I find myself hanging around that extra few mintues to see if he comes online so I can talk to him. It's ludacris, I never get this involved and never have. I've never wanted to either.

So what is the definition of love? Is it the beat that your hearts skips? The time they spend on your mind? Or is it simply unexplainable?

When does wanting to lose a few pounds turn into an eating disorder? And when does this obsession of losing a few pounds dip into your bank account?

My mother, on a quest to lose the pounds that have been hanging on for the past few years, has just bought a treadmill for £200. I personally cannot stand treadmills. You stand staring at the same vista for however long you are on them, and they cost a lot of money. A run around the local park is free (apart from buying the trainers and clothes etc, but it is certainly cheaper than buying a machine) and you see something new every time you go for a run.

Also, we have recently had a conservatory built and, even though there are two sofas and a lot of my niece's toys in there, she thinks that there is room to keep it out of the way.  We live in a 3-bedroom ex-council house and we only managed to buy the house and do the alterations we have because of inheritance money. Therefore, we don't have enough money to squander on machines that take away the honour of having parks surrounding us.

Statistics say that most anorexics become that way because they have constant access to means of exercise. They all started by saying that they wanted to lose a few pounds and started ridiculous diets like the Shake Diet where all they consume are lettuce shakes or carrot shakes, nothing with enough calories to keep you upright for the entire day.

Anorexia has so many different shapes and forms that they are hardly noticed. Calista Flockhart of Ally McBeal fame admitted to having an eating disorder when she came close to death. It was the same with Nicole Richie. Everyone remembers the pictures of her on the beach where she had to fold over her bikini bottoms because they were too big even though they were a stupidly small size. She finally came to her senses and started to eat again in order to get pregnant.

So where is the line between a diet and anorexia?

It's been nearly 3 months since words have been exchanged, and the feelings have been supressed beyond recognision, but when I see his name on a website, my heart pounds and my throat goes unusually dry.

We had been together only a month but his intensity washed over me and I welcomed it with ignorant bliss. His words were the ones that every girl wants to hear and he promised me everything that I never knew that I wanted. Japan, hot air balloons, roses. Things that would make Edward Cullen look like a caveman. But he disappeared to focus on his car and I moved on to fill his place with useless excuses for the male gender.

I tried in vain to talk to him but his pride continued to get the better of him as he ignored my advances. After he left, his place was filled with a prat, a needy giant and someone who cares only about philsophy. My history with men is not what I want it to be, but I can hardly complain when I have the best friends in the world.

So can the temporary replacements ever become a permanant feature after the one they replaced left such a mark?

Thanks to a little stupidity on my part, my mother was reduced to tears and I have been banished from the world that I have grown part of.

After a clash with a fellow hall resident, I put up a moronic status on Facebook, threatening to protect my pride after she threatened to stamp all over it with her threadbare plimsoles, now I regret it. I didn't think it through, yes I admit that, but I cannot comprehend how it has gotten to this stage. Surely, freedom of speech should be total freedom and not limited.

The man in charge quickly became the man who everyone considers to be a bully and a racist and a homophobe. It seems that the man has a thing for bullying coloured girls, their mothers and their gay best friends, well we're the only ones reduced to a state of pure anger which turns into tears.

As I feel that truth is perfection, here is the background story. She complained about the noise from my floor officially in December 2009 and a letter was posted under my door saying that an adjudication meeting was being arranged for me due to my bullying her. Nothing happened, so obviously I carried on with my life (why put it on hold for something that may not even happen?). Like any student, I celebrated my friend's birthday with alcohol and bumped into the complaining girl. Assault? I don't think so, but she clearly did and got the police involved. The head of halls is swearing blind that the police came to see me, but no one on campus except the complainer and her adult helper saw them... Suspicious, I know. Then, two weeks later, a letter arrives through my door which says that I have been suspended and am not allowed to return to campus.

I wasn't allowed to get any of the stuff from my room, I wasn't even allowed to say goodbye to the amazing friends that I have made. Mum struggled to bring back half of the stuff I have managed to accumulate thanks to my £500 overdraft and student loan. I thought this should be ok and that mum, being the angel that she is, would be able to head back up the motorway to collect the rest of the stuff. But, thanks to that feeble excuse of a man, she had to bring home the entire contents of a 19 year old's room otherwise they threatened to get it skipped. Throwing away someone else's belongings is surely theft, but mum got stressed. So stressed and angry at the lack of sincerity shown by this man that tears came to those baby blues. Thank goodness for the amazing friends I have because one of my hallmates gave my mum a much needed hug.

Surely, if he can make a single 40-something mother-of-four cry, he can clearly make a 19 year old's life a misery. And he has for the past 4 months. Undoubtedly, he has made many other people's lives a misery too. If I wasn't so insanely deep into my overdraft, shopping would be my saviour.

So where is this invisible 'freedom of speech' line that is crossed so frequently and will it ever be seen in time for it not to be crossed?