So long, thanks for all the psychosis.

Well, I suppose that's that. We've done the exams, had the Leaver's BBQ, had the pre-Prom party, had Prom, and had the after-Prom party (well, I did). Short of getting results, we never have to go back ever, ever again.

Oh no, what a shame.

School is, was, and will probably always be an interesting place for the LGBTQS community. I can think of no other place in the world that has such a high concentration of conflicting emotions and agendas. Sometimes it was great fun, there was a rumour that the hot guy I fancied wasn't quite as straight as everyone thought and the conversations were so full of innuendo that a passing gigolo would've blushed. Others, however, were pure hell, I was being forced to look on as someone I fancied kissed someone who wasn't me and everyone male viewed me as some kind of predator, just waiting for them to turn their backs so I could pounce on them.

That said, my second ever post had this picture in it, so maybe they were a little justified in their fear.

That said, I think I speak for all the Homojournalists when I say that we wouldn't have missed it for all the porn in Germany, mainly because the porn from Germany is likely to be a bit on the odd side, but also because we all met each other at the school we go to, and we've all helped each other be more open about our sexualities.

That, and we gave you Constant Readers some frickin' excellent reading material.

On average.

I guess I'll have to go full stalker now to keep us all together... for the good of you Constant Readers, of course. Feel free to let me know who to stalk first at homojournal@gmail.com.

Yours menacingly,

James

Cthulhu didn't go to Prom, so I had to punch him in the face at the pre-Prom party instead.

Ps//

It's Mel here,

I thought I might hijack the end of this post to impart some of my Prom wisdom. 'Tis the season after all. Here are my tips for going to prom as a lesbian couple.

1. Do everything you would do as any other kind of couple and blackmail/kidnap/sue anyone who tells you otherwise.

There we go. Hey, it worked out well for Eli and I, I mean sure Mr N is still missing and Mrs M looks vaguely traumatised....

One last piece of advice, don't wear a dress that is longer than you are tall, male or female. I have dusty footprints on my dress and it was impossible to dance in, though this said, it did double up as a cancan dancing accessory and cape. 

Love Mel.

BITCH, THIS IS MY POST! Note to self: harass Mel.