cellini's Diaryland Diary

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Just a Woman

So where was I? Oh, yesterday. Right.

So yesterday I was guiding. Again. For a well-intended big galoot who was too fucking loud to be stealthy and who couldn't sneak up on anything, A good guy but he could not be quiet enough and so he didn't get anything. I still get paid though, so whatever. I put in a full day of hard fucking work in the freezing cold and I think that I earned my fee.

Then I had to get changed and head straight for a Christmas party for a prominent local newspaper. ALONE.

Yes, Trish could not be troubled to line up babysitting. So I went alone to this party. Everyone of note was there. As were many people and fetching ladies who were of no especial note. I spent a while talking to the few people who I knew. And then everyone seemed to know who I was but I didn't know them and it was weird. People would walk up to me and quickly introduce themselves and mention some anecdote about an odd thing they had eaten and then giggle and leave.

Is this really what its like to be famous? Fuck this shit. They all know who I am and act like I should know them. And they ask for a picture with me or something and then they beg off. What the fuck?

I wish that one of the women had stuck around. One of the women of any age. There were lovely women of anywhere from 18-60 with whom I would have been happy to spend the night.

I miss having a woman in bed with me. I miss having a woman who is with me. A woman beside me at a party whom I can introduce. Whom I can talk to in between introductions. A woman for me to kiss and to fuck and to fall asleep with.

Fucking hell, I'm lonely.

Right now I have email from TV producers and my publicist and my editor and from TV networks and random other people that I need to look at and respond to. And what the hell? I have all of these trappings of success. But all I want is a woman to have it with and I just don't get it. Why? What the fuck is wrong with me? I can't be ugly or they wouldn't be trying to give me a TV show.

What I get out of all of this adulation is NOTHING. I get fucking fan mail from total strangers every fucking day. I get interview requests and email from the Washington Post and don't even have time for that. And... and...

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. All I really want is a woman to sort of melt into and fall asleep with.

So this party was just sort of alienating. I ran into Leah. Leah who I was in love with in high school and Leah whom I went to prom with. Leah who broke my heart. You know what she said to me? "Oh my God - we totally have to do an article about you for XYZ." Because she writes for XYZ magazine now.

Jesus fuck. Why couldn't you just kiss me? Or smile? Or walk away? OR SAY ANYTHING ELSE.

I wanted to cry. And I left a few minutes after that. I stumbled back to my car, slightly drunk and broken-hearted. And then I sat there in the car with the heat on until I was sober enough to drive.

I hate pretending to be married. And yes, its a fucking farce at this point. I just want a woman. More than I want the next book deal or TV show or anything else. Just a woman. Please.

11:17 p.m. - 2010-12-10

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