Not only did I keep diaries, I wrote in notebooks too.
Those two years were so pivotable in who I turned out to be. At one point, in one of those books, I just wrote a 20 page letter to myself, outlining all that had happened and how I felt about each boy that been a part of my life.
It's like I instinctively knew, I was making some life long decisions at age 16 and I needed to record all the details for future reference.
At one point, I really, really liked boy 1, and two sentences later, I'm talking about boy 2's eyes. Then the next day, boy 3 asks me out, and when I say I need to think about it, he asked my best friend to 'go around' with him. And then boy 4 came on the scene and confused me even worse.
The thing is, I only dated Mark. He was the only guy I ever kissed.
But I was mixed up about the other guys that were in my life. Or could have been in my life.
Reading all those diaries I kept in those days has shown me one thing. Sixteen is too young. I was told repeatedly from a variety of sources, that I was mature. Mature beyone my years. At school. At church. At work. At home. At sixteen, people were saying I acted older than other girls my age. I think that had me thinking I was mature enough to be caught up in a dating relationship.
But, wow. I so was not. Not. Not mature enough. I took it way too seriously. And I was one ditzy chick, let me tell you.
And it all started with this: