Oreos For
Breakfast: Chapter 37
By the Paperbag Princess and
Pumpkin Coach
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Nick's Journal - February 8, 2003
Rachel-
It was like walking on eggshells all day. Every time my phone rang or someone came to the door, I would pause whatever sports show I was half watching and Anna would look up at me from surfing the websites and we’d just freeze. Was this it? The police?
But it never was. 24 hours passed and I had a lawyer and every tabloid in America was going to press with speculation that I’d beaten up Paris Hilton, who had overnight morphed from America’s slut to America’s sweetheart. Only the truly honest bloggers were admitting that most of America wanted to hit her, too.
Not that I hit her.
Shoved her? Yes.
Pushed her against the wall while she attacked me? Yes
Grabbed her shoulders to get her away from me? Yes
Screamed at her while she screamed back? Absolutely
That’s all that happened, but that wasn’t good enough for the tabloids and celebrity websites. Is that good enough for you? Rachel, I don’t know what to say to you to make you believe that I didn’t do this. Do you believe it? I mean, if I could date Paris freaking Hilton while I was supposed to be ‘finding myself,’ what more was I capable of?
All the guys have called. And I guess I’m glad that they seem to be rallying around me. I can’t tell if they think I did it or not. It does look pretty damning.
On a positive note, this has gotten Mom and Dad to stop fighting over Aaron for a day. They both had to talk to the press. You know them. Claiming to be clearing my name but really just after whatever little amount of press they can get from the situation. Who knows, maybe the National Inquirer and Globe are paying for their stories. Wouldn’t surprise me.
They even managed to find a woman I’d cheated on Paris with. When Paris was still mad at me for going to Japan without her… Well, yeah I’m a weak weak weak man. I spent all this time NOT cheating on her and then just figured why should I if she was only going to believe the stupid stories her friends told.
And don’t get me started on her friends. They were unbelievable. Within hours of our breaking up they started selling their stories, too. Overnight I went from the nicest man Paris ever dated to a white trash boy with anger management problems and was never good enough for her.
Wonder if they knew that she wanted me to propose?
Yeah, that’s the joke, Rachel. That night we broke up? The final straw for the Paris Hilton chapter of my life? It was that she thought I’d been to Tiffany’s to buy her an engagement ring. Can you believe it?
But it wasn’t an engagement ring. I don’t know for sure if you still talk to Anna or not. She’s my best friend, Rachel, and if I’d never met you, I think that we might have ended up together. One day when I grew up and stopped being obsessed with vapid girls who only cared about my money and fame. But not now. There is no hope for Anna and me because she will always remind me of you. She will always be the woman who is like my first true love. My soul mate.
I don’t know if I deserve you or not, Rachel. Today I’m betting on the fact that I don’t deserve you at all. And if that’s the case, then I’m totally fucked. Fucking fucked. Because you are my soul mate, not Anna. Anna’s a lot like you, but she’s no you. She’ll always just remind me of you and remind me what I could have had, but I threw it away.
Maybe I was too young for you after all. Maybe I really did need to grow up. Maybe I will always have the maturity of a 12 year old when my family disintegrated and my life changed both for the better and the worse. Who knows?
All I know is that Paris Hilton was the biggest mistake of my life and that’s saying something given that I’m writing to the ghost of my true love and know beyond a shadow of a doubt that if you don’t take me back next month I will be alone for the rest of my life.
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