I had sex with my brother's best friend.

I have feelings for a friend of mine from back in high school...unfortunately I graduated first by a year, and before then I was too immature to tell her how I felt. 2/3 years later, we've both been busy so we drifted apart butat some point I had told her that I wanted to date her back then, and still did. She said then that she thought that would feel weird, since I "am a good guy friend (even though we haven't had much chance to talk in the last couple years). Two days ago I talked to her on the phone and she told me she would be in town. I didn't know her that well then in high school, and what she said then does discourage me a bit--but I have seen it happen before... However, I want to make it count even if I have to start small with a meaningful memory--I don't want us to drift apart after this. But...I really and truly don't know where to start! So...this is my plea for advice from those who are better at living than I. Ideas, experiences...anything is welcome!

i love to smoke pot. my best friend knows a smoke pot and looks down on me for it....yet she gets drunk every weekend and sees no problem with it. last weekend these two girls got drunk and they were so fucked up and we had to take care of them (my best friend and I) the effects of the alcohol on them was so annoying and just...lame. while when i smoke pot, i eat taco bell and tell my friend funny stories. yet, she still looks down on me for smoking pot....she like thinks she is surperior. anyways i feel like my best friend shouldn't judge me and should accept me for who i am. i don't smoke a lot, maybe 3-4x a week. she is a great friend, and i don't want to lose a friend due to marijuana, but she won't even open up her mind or even try to understand why i like ganja. she's never even tried and i've tried to get her to try so she'll understand why i love weed so much. i love my stoner friends. we smoke out of hookahs and eat ice cream together. we sit on our asses and have fun...

A few months ago I got a email from a girl I had met on vacation before I was married, saying she was in New York and could we meet up. I arranged to meet her behind my wife's back, saying I was visiting a male friend in New York. I kept my male friend with me when I met this girl so I wouldn't be too tempted, but I was so excited to see her that we held hands and flirted alot. Then I escorted the girl home to her hotel with out my male friend, but I went it and we went to bed together, I didn't sleep with her though. Now I feel guilty for seeing her but also wish i should I had slept with her. She is everything my wife is not and I dream about her all the time, but she has a boyfriend and lives in Germany. She is so sexual and alive and confident, my wife is American and so uptight about sex.

after being "recovered" for 4 years, bulemia has found it's way back into my life... and it feels like Christmas morning.

I met a guy with amazing eyes last night. This guy turned up in my pub and came over to order a drink. Normally, I don't make much eye contact with customers - sure I'll look them in the eyes, but only briefly, and sometimes not at all. I looked him in the eyes, I'm not sure why, I guess 'cause he was looking me straight in the eye. And suddenly everything else just didn't exist, I was just caught in his eyes. I was desperately trying to pay attention to what he was saying but it was really difficult. As soon as the eye contact ended, I was very... professional. I just got the drinks, asked if he wanted ice, etc. Did my best to appear unaffected, and didn't look him in the eye again, in case it happened again. As soon as he left the bar I regretted it. All I wanted was to look him in the eyes again.

"I don't love you" was the biggest lie I ever told.

Four years ago, I was raped by my boyfriend. I was nine years old. Right now, I'm almost positive it happened, but for a long time, I couldn't decide whether the memories were true. It didn't seem like someone I loved so much could do something so ugly. Recently, I found the picture of him at that time that I stared at longingly for a whole summer. I still wonder whether he ever thought about me or missed me half as much as I missed him. It's been four years, and I still see him five days a week in one of my classes. I don't know how I don't run out of the classroom screaming.