Petits Filous

By C C

When I was 17, my boyfriend at the time read my diary and found out I had cheated on him. I lived in a 4-storey town house where my bedroom was in the attic and the kitchen was in the basement. While I was happily eating my dinner at the bottom of the house, my boyfriend was at the top of the house reading my worst but best-kept secret. 

I’d chase every dinner with two Petits Filous yoghurts – when he was visiting, I would share my twin pots of French deliciousness. That evening, I ran up the 3 flights of stairs to present him with this little pot of heaven, but I didn’t get the response I would usually. He had his back to me chain-smoking his liquorice roll-ups out of my window, he didn’t say any words but I knew something was wrong. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my purple sequinned diary sitting open on my bed. My heart sunk. He had read my confession about getting with my ultimate crush who had been at the epicentre of many of my teenage dreams. 

For as long as I can remember, I would go weak at the knees whenever I saw my crush. He was older and lived next door to a family member, an hour or so away. I was painfully shy and couldn’t even muster a hello. To find out I was going on holiday with him and his family, filled me with secret excitement but also, fear. How the hell was I going to be comfortable in a bikini around him for 10 whole days. 

My crush was sharing a bedroom with his brother while I had to share with his brother’s girlfriend. It was New Year’s eve and we were allowed to stay out for drinks to welcome in the new year together. His brother took advantage of this and begged for us to switch beds so that he could sleep with his girlfriend. And so we did. We chatted for ages in our twin beds and then he asked me to get into his. I knew it was wrong but at the same time, it feel like all my wildest dreams were coming true. We kissed, a lot, and then I climbed back into my bed. Nothing more was said while on holiday and after those 10 days, I never saw my crush again.

I told my diary that I was glad that this night of passion had happened, happy I had cheated with the guy of my dreams and that I didn’t feel any guilt towards my boyfriend. And there we were – Petits Filous getting warmer by the minute – while my boyfriend and I argued, cried, kissed and burned my diary pages. I said and did whatever I had to do for him to stay with me. I didn’t feel glad anymore, I didn’t feel happy I had cheated, and I did feel so much guilt.

When he took me back, I felt like the luckiest girl alive. When in actual fact, I wasn’t lucky at all – he had cheated on me while I was on that holiday and continued to throughout the rest of our immature relationship. Knowing what I know now, would I choose to replay that night of passion and the turmoil that followed once more? Let’s just say I’m relieved to never share my Petits Filous again.