June 9th

He said "See you." If you never wanted to see someone again you wouldn't say "see you." You'd say something like we really have to talk, or, it's not me it's you or if you don't leave me alone I'll take out a restraining order.

Well at least that's what they usually say to me, but Simon said see you. As in "I'll see you." Which is what you would say to someone if you wanted to see them.

This thing with Sheila, well I do have an overactive imagination--that's what makes me such a giant talent. Maybe I'm blowing this all out of proportion. Simon is an artist, a free spirit. He feels the need to connect with all human beings. No matter how tacky their jewelry is or how '80's their hair is, he feels the need to reach out. The very worst thing I can do is try to rein him in.

I understand the heart of an artist.

June 10

My mother is a freak. She is acting like her wedding is going to be the social event of the season.

She was tittering over the guest list with Mr. Van Heusan and they were oohing and ahhing over floral brochures and honeymoon spots until I thought I was going to scream.

I tapped my pencil on the table and said "Do I have to remind you people that this is a place of business and not a social club?"

They started laughing like a couple of maniacs and it really pissed me off, so I gave them a really dirty look and went back to my game of Solitaire.

I'm sick of being the responsible one. From now on if she even asks for my opinion (which she hasn't bothered to do because she couldn't care less in a million years about me because she's so wrapped up in lover-boy) I'm going to say very frostily "It's no business of mine what you do at your wedding." and hopefully that will destroy her. If it doesn't, I'm going to add even more frostily "keep in mind that I was at your first wedding."

That is so good that I have to save it.

June 11

I am so happy!! Me and Simon are OK again!!!!! (although where I got it in my head that we weren't is totally beyond me). I bumped into him in front of his building and he looked so happy to see me.

I looked really, really hot. I've got a liquid-lift bra that gives me boobs that I can rest my chin on and I got a support device that shoves the fat from my stomach to the back and gives me a really perky butt. I was hot!

The only awkward moment was when he asked me what I was doing in the neighbourhood. It's hard to come up with a good reason to be strolling the streets around abandoned factories but I had a great story. I told him I was soaking up atmosphere for one of my pieces. I told him that I was following forces and before I knew it I was in front of the building.

He really got into that and we went up to his place and drank some wine and then we did it!

It was fabulous. I realize that I am more than just a muse to him I think my sexual powers have cast a spell on him now that I can get into Tantric sex without snickering out loud.

I am so happy!!

June 12

My mom has asked me to be her Maid of Honour. I thought that was so sweet. They looked so cute sitting there that I just couldn't resist them. It really gives you a lift to see people so in love.

I couldn't help but think of me and Simon. What would it be like to be married to him? Although neither one of us believes in the institution and I pity people who feel that they have to bow to social convention. I don't think I'd wear white. I think I'd wear champagne.

June 14

WHEN AM I GOING TO LEARN?

I went over to Simon's place last night with a couple of bottles of wine and some food. I wore the liquid lift again but something was wrong with it as it kept veering to the left and I felt I had to compensate.

Simon seemed really preoccupied and I wondered if he noticed that my left breast kept slipping under my armpit. He just watched TV and drank the wine without saying anything.

On a whim I'd stopped into Linda's Love and Lace on the way over. I picked up some oil called Red Devil that is supposed to be dynamite. You rub it all over and when your lover blows on you it's supposed to get hot.

Simon loves to experiment with different things so I thought this was a sure fire way to secure my place in his life.

I started nibbling at his ear but he kept waving me away it wasn't until we'd finished the second bottle of wine that he showed the slightest interest.

I pulled him down and seductively poured the oil all over my body, he seemed to find that really arousing and the next thing you know we were really going at it. It was the most passionate time we've ever experienced--and then the phone rang.

He jumped on it like he was a fireman and excused himself to take it in the other room.

I was pissed off, but I was also really curious to hear who was on the phone. I tried to tiptoe to the door but Simon has hardwood floors that creak like mad. I decided to crawl across the room on my hands and knees and just as I reached the door he threw it open clocking me on the forehead and sending me sprawling behind it.

He didn't even ask me if I was OK. He started searching for his clothes and said that he was sorry but something came up.

I was sitting in the corner rather dazed and as greasy as an eel trying to think of a graceful segue to who was on the phone. I was going to start with the miracle of communication but he saved me the trouble by telling me who it was.

Sheila couldn't get her bathroom window open and she needed him to come pry it open.

I was stunned I couldn't think of anything to say. He was almost whistling as he pulled on his socks. I scrambled to the bed to find my clothes as he slicked back his hair and said he would be in touch.

I am mortified.

My top and pants are just ruined because of that oil,I felt menopausal on the bus home whenever a breeze hit me and I've got a huge bump on my forehead.

How could I let myself be treated like that? I am a human being and I deserve to be treated with respect. That's it, it's over. I HATE HIM.

 

New to Jenna's Diary?

You are probably thinking"Say, I'll never catch up, so there's no point starting now."

Well that's not true, Jenna can't follow a thought for more than a second so you won't be missing a thing. (And quite frankly that attitude is the reason you are not a neurosurgeon.)

Click here for a past diary excerpts.

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