Tuesday, August 24, 2010


(You're right! This is fiction!)

Dear Diary,

I am so in love with my boyfriend... My ultimate soulmate... The love of my life, my baby: Rob.

So, I'm just here to write about how I’m not a jealous or a possessive girlfriend. No, I don’t think so! Not at all!

I am confident that my man loves me and is loyal to me. He had proven so many times that he’s faithful to me and to our relationship. We're in this together... aiming for a lifelong partnership and happiness!

Anyway, not because I glare at my baby and pinch his side when an ugly bitch bats her fucking eyelashes at him doesn’t mean I’m jealous.

Or when I throw a mini tantrum because he forgets to call me when he said he will; then my imagination runs wild, thinking that a whore caught his perfect green eyes doesn’t mean I’m jealous.

Or when I refuse to have a mind-blowing sex with him because someone called his cellphone and he didn’t voluntarily tell me who called doesn’t necessarily mean I’m jealous.

Or when I give him the dreaded silent treatment (this drives him crazy, by the way) just because some lunatic witch couldn’t get the message that he’s taken and sends him an email; and I wonder how that fucking girl got his email… damn her to hell!!! This doesn’t mean I’m jealous.

Or when I don’t answer his phone call when we’re away from each other because I read something absurd in the magazine that’s not even true…just some shit those fucking gossip magazines fabricated… until he worries like crazy and starts calling our friends and every member of my family to make sure I’m fine… Hmm… Even this doesn’t mean I’m jealous. Sometimes, I just want to, um, be alone. Nothing that’s gravely unexplainable.

Or when we’re in the prying eyes of the public, I subtly give hints that HE BELONGS TO ME so that every ambitious, deranged, delusional, bitch – male and female alike – would get it, you know… This doesn’t mean I’m jealous or possessive. Right?

When I am seen wearing his shirt he had worn just the night before doesn’t mean I’m making a statement or something… Well, it’s just that his shirt is comfy. That’s all.

When I sort of proudly ‘display’ the things he had given me (my baby knows how to make me feel loved, I swear), like my ring and necklace… This doesn’t mean I’m telling the world who I belong to or who he belongs to. Come to think about it, neither of us has to say anything or any confirmation because, come on… can we be more obvious? We’re just making our lives bearable. We choose to keep what’s important to us ours… private.

And by god you’re right, dear diary, if you think I’m greedy when it comes to him. I DON’T FUCKING SHARE! No, I’m neither jealous nor possessive. I simply don’t want to share. It’s bad as it is that I have to share his lips with his leading ladies in his movies… Grrrr… Life sometimes isn’t fair! Shit! Fuck!...NO, THIS ISN’T DRIVING ME CRAZY! Damn! I’m just expressing a concern, is all!

It’s funny, though, how all these things make my baby love me even more. He always says it makes him feel loved and cherished. Of course I love him and I cherish him. But what boggles my mind is when he tells me that I am acting jealous makes him horny and said that it’s hot. Honestly, I don’t know what he’s talking about. I’m always calm and collected… always reasonable… I THINK!

You know what they say… a couple sometimes mirrors each other. True! Because when a guy approaches me, I swear his hands become these super flexible, like elastics, because they’re all over me in an instant. And his cute, adorable pout becomes this mega pout attached to my neck or my nape... and sometimes when he couldn't help himself, to my lips.  It’s hot, actually. I love it. What am I saying? I love everything about my Rob.

Recently, we were caught making out... Not a big deal.  Really, how many times have we been caught canoodling, holding hands... We figured that it doesn't matter how many times we were caught holding hands or kissing, for as long as we don't comment about any of it, we're good! 

There you see now, dear diary. Rob and I are both mature human beings. We protect each other because we’re that important, if not the most important, in each other’s life.

Okay… I gotta go now so I could call him… see what he’s up to. I miss him like crazy.

Until next time,


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