It's just a diary
By: Meghan Coley
I think I really like this guy.
Here’s what happened today before I ended up running down the street in my underwear:
I almost left for a spontaneous trip to Paris with some really good friends
who were trying to distract me from my failed declaration of love.
Mark showed up out of nowhere, even though he was supposed to be in America,
and told me he’d forgotten something back home (how mysterious… it was a kiss goodbye).
We ended up in my apartment, and of course I needed to change my underwear.
But then he saw my stupid diary. I’d left it open on the table. It was conveniently
flipped open to some of the pages I’d written about Mark before I really knew him,
back when I thought I hated him.
I heard the door shut, and he was gone.
He barely gave me enough time to pull on some sneakers before he was halfway down the block (it was snowing, I wasn’t about to freeze my toes off).
I thought he was leaving just when we’d finally come together.
I thought my stupid, illfitting opinions of the guy he hadn’t ever been
were going to drive him away,
that he had realized I’ve been single for too long,
have a legitimate drinking problem,
and have grown to care for him in all his weird glory way too fucking much.
But guess what? He was just walking to the store down the way to buy me a new diary.
Can you believe that? He chose that moment, of all moments, to leave and get me a new one.
It gave me quite the fright to be perfectly honest.
All I could say once I caught up to him was “I’m so sorry.”
I tripped all over my apology as two old ladies stared at me in my leopard print undies.
And Mark, he… he just stared at me, too. Until he pulled out the beautiful, bright red diary
I’m writing all of this in right now.
He said: “Time to make a new start, perhaps.” I about melted into the ground.
And then we were kissing and I didn’t care that those two old ladies were still staring.
It’s quite funny to look back on all this now.
I’m quite aware of the fact that he’s a catch -
and a really good kisser, too. I can’t not mention that.
And I don’t care how cheesy it sounds - I’m gonna end this entry by saying I think I love him.
It feels simple and right. I love Mr. Darcy.
Bridget Jones's Diary (2001)
I think I really like this guy.
Here’s what happened today before I ended up running down the street in my underwear:
I almost left for a spontaneous trip to Paris with some really good friends
who were trying to distract me from my failed declaration of love.
Mark showed up out of nowhere, even though he was supposed to be in America,
and told me he’d forgotten something back home (how mysterious… it was a kiss goodbye).
We ended up in my apartment, and of course I needed to change my underwear.
But then he saw my stupid diary. I’d left it open on the table. It was conveniently
flipped open to some of the pages I’d written about Mark before I really knew him,
back when I thought I hated him.
I heard the door shut, and he was gone.
He barely gave me enough time to pull on some sneakers before he was halfway down the block (it was snowing, I wasn’t about to freeze my toes off).
I thought he was leaving just when we’d finally come together.
I thought my stupid, illfitting opinions of the guy he hadn’t ever been
were going to drive him away,
that he had realized I’ve been single for too long,
have a legitimate drinking problem,
and have grown to care for him in all his weird glory way too fucking much.
But guess what? He was just walking to the store down the way to buy me a new diary.
Can you believe that? He chose that moment, of all moments, to leave and get me a new one.
It gave me quite the fright to be perfectly honest.
All I could say once I caught up to him was “I’m so sorry.”
I tripped all over my apology as two old ladies stared at me in my leopard print undies.
And Mark, he… he just stared at me, too. Until he pulled out the beautiful, bright red diary
I’m writing all of this in right now.
He said: “Time to make a new start, perhaps.” I about melted into the ground.
And then we were kissing and I didn’t care that those two old ladies were still staring.
It’s quite funny to look back on all this now.
I’m quite aware of the fact that he’s a catch -
and a really good kisser, too. I can’t not mention that.
And I don’t care how cheesy it sounds - I’m gonna end this entry by saying I think I love him.
It feels simple and right. I love Mr. Darcy.
Bridget Jones's Diary (2001)
All Text Copyright (C) 2023 Meghan Coley