It’s been a while since last I wrote to you. How are you? WHERE are you? What have you been doing? The only information I seem to have from you these days come from the snippets of gossip I happen to find at the Awful Truth boards or Hollywood Life. Neither really seem to give me a complete picture of what’s been happening, and if we’re being honest, I’m getting a bit distressed.
Afterall, I am your secret girlfriend. And as your secret girlfriend, I have to admit that this really upsets me. I mean, here I’ve been, still “waiting in the rafters” as it were, for what, FOUR YEARS now… continually showering you with support via my private photos, and emails, and texts and letters just like this. Yet, what do I get in return? Nothing, nothing, nothing.
It’s as if I don’t exist.
I mean, all during Breaking Dawn promotion, you were non-stop about Kristen this, or Kristen that, and now that promo is over, I STILL don’t hear anything and it’s as if you and Ms. Grumpypants both have gone spelunking or something for as little as I see or hear about either of you. Are you living in a cave off of the shores of Attu Island? And with that trolling troll?
How could that be? After all this time, it’s been I who has held steadfast in our mutual love. It’s been I who has been here (wherever “here” is depending upon the report) waiting patiently for your return from your contractual obligations with “THAT GIRL.” And it has been I who has had to endure hearing about the pregnancies of first TOM’s girlfriend and now that Jackson person’s, when I was promised a child myself. By you!!!
Truly, I’m starting to worry.
I mean, just because I am “secret” doesn’t mean I’m invisible. Apart from that person seeing us in a London Theatre on a night when it was known you were in L.A., I’ve really been kept under wraps. A girl’s gotta get out and about some time, and preferably with the love of her life on her arm.
Just once, I’d like to see – and be seen – out with you, and in public. I can imagine it now. We stroll side by side outside the Ivy in London or some other noted Theatre district restaurant, and you hold me close, my radiant golden tresses cascading down from where my head rests gently on your big, strong shoulder. Of course, we’ll have called the paps so they can take loads and loads of photos for the morning Sun and OK Magazine.
What I imagine would be nothing like that “sighting” of you and HER from last night, where she goes to some sushi restaurant and you show up AN HOUR LATER! An hour later? Why, are you trying to act like a normal couple? You know, the kind who chooses to meet each other at a selected locale on their way home from work instead of arriving together? Did you get stuck in a meeting, or traffic or something? I mean, aren’t you supposed to make a grand entrance TOGETHER?
I mean, really. And to think this was only your SECOND time out seen together after Breaking Dawn promo has ended. Is that how PR works? For heaven’s sake, the Breaking Dawn DVD comes out this weekend. Surely you could drum up some better publicity than a lame night at an obscure sushi joint.
Next thing you know you want to tell me that you really are a boring individual who prefers to stay in most evenings so you can play your music, or relax with a good book, watch a documentary film and just enjoy a quiet, and private life with your girlfriend.
And what was with those photographs? Surely, if you are in a relationship ONLY for PR as you tell me is the case, then why oh why did you take photos with that girl separately? Why couldn’t you take one together – you know, like a real, genuine PR couple would? And I really think you need to talk to Nick and Steph. Why didn't either one of them call the Paparazzo so that they could take a million and three pictures of you and that girl arriving and departing? Isn't that how PR works??? And why aren’t you smiling? And why are you wearing the same shirt that she was seen photographed in while on the set of that Snow White movie? That’s YOUR shirt, or is it one of the ones you told me came from that closet of stuff that Summit put together for you so you could push your PR relationship.
Kind of like that dog.
It’s bad enough you chose to eat at some unknown little sushi house instead of one of the bigger-named restaurants in town, but now I have to endure separate photos, and shared clothing?
Oh well, at least I can cut out the one with you only and use it to put in the frame on my bedside table.
I suppose I’ll cut my ramblings short for today.
If I don’t hear from you in the next week or so, I hope to see photos of you from Festival Berlinae next weekend. I’ll be scouring the internet for our secret signal. If I don’t see it, maybe you could send an extra message to your aunt. You know, she could write the words “secret” and “girlfriend” in a tag or something. I’ll be on the lookout.
Love and kisses and other naughty things I really shouldn’t mention publicly.
Your secret girlfriend.
P.S. I’ve set up a MySpace page in the event you want to contact me there. Under the name Olivia. I’m sure you can find me seeing as how a few of your more devoted and rational fans have already tracked me down. They really are your TRUE fans. I hope you appreciate their efforts to smear your name and make you out to be a money grubbing, spineless asshole get the truth about you, and us, out there to the masses.
With love from Los Angeles London.