No. of impure thoughts - 865
No. of changes of clothing before going out - 7
No. of hours spent in a beauty salon - 4
No. of snogs - 1
Big Brother must be monitoring my diary - option 4 (the suici** one) was deleted from last night's entry. (I didn't really intend to do it, but yesterday was a v. bad day)
Today was my big day - dinner with Aston. J gave me the name of a top end beauty salon in London and I arrived there this morning and threw myself on their mercy. I asked them to make me look great - after much tutting, the manager said that with intensive effort they could aim for 'barely acceptable'. Basically, I don't know how woman stand it. I had 4 hours of sheer unmitigated torture. The 'non surgical facelift' to try to right my drooping Botox problems was first, followed by blackhead removal, followed by waxing. (I believe its called a 'back, sack and crack' wax in Australia). It brings tears to my eyes to remember it. They said they had never heard anyone scream that loud, but I was past caring by that time. At the end of it, I limped out 400 pounds poorer, but with skin as soft as a baby's bottom. But if I get a chance to show it off tonight, it will be worth every penny.
I arranged to meet Aston at the Oxo Tower, and got there early so I could be sitting at our dimly lit table trying to look my best. She looked spectacular - her long brunette locks swung over her shoulders, and she wore a fanastic short black dress. Dinner went really well, and the conversation was flowing nicely, when Aston suggested we moved out on to the terrace for drinks. As we stood there, overlooking the Thames, with the sun setting in the background, I looked into her eyes and prepared to kiss her. However, I suddenly became aware of riotous laughter behind me. I looked round, and couldn't believe my eyes. Could that really be Chelsea, queen of my heart, partying on the terrace with a group of friends??
I tried to keep calm, but I couldn't control myself. I broke away from Aston and ran across to Chelsea, calling her mame again and again. She looked up and said only 3 words - 'Who are you??' I was gutted. I've spent all these months worshipping her in my dreams and she didn't even remember me. Aston slapped my face and said that she had never been more insulted in her life.
So here I am - alone again, naturally.
As I stood there, shell-shocked, a pretty waitress approached and said that she had seen everything and wanted to make sure I was OK. She insisted on getting me a drink, and looking after me. In fact, she even insisted on walking me to my car, and kissing me goodnight. Oh Milano, my dusky Italian beauty - could you be the new love of my life????
