Turns out, he wasn’t laughing at me. Because he followed me to the station and bailed me out as soon as he could. He used all of his leftover cougar money to get me out, and he won’t even be getting any more because he broke things off with her that day that I left his apartment after he saw how upset I was that she was there for a date. This was all fine and good, but here’s how the conversation went from there:


Paul: I love you.

Me: Thanks.

Paul: What? I love you, you belong to me!

Me: No. People don’t belong to people.

Paul: Of course they do!

Me: I’ll never let ANYBODY put me in a cage.

Paul: I don’t want to put you in a cage, I want to love you!


Naturally, I ran away. This is too much, too soon for me to handle right now. Sure, I like Paul, but telling me that he loves me means that he wants to have me. All to himself. And just how well would that work out for us?

So a few days later I’m in a cab, all ready to go to Miami with all the money I made off of selling those pearl Tiffany earrings from José, when he appears out of no where and hops into the backseat with Cat and I. He starts giving me this speech about how I keep running from my problems and how I say I’m a free spirit but if I keep acting like this and never accept love from anyone, then I’ll never be happy. I couldn’t stand this anymore. In an erratic fury, I threw Cat out of the cab along with the necklace and cried, “No one belongs to anyone! I don’t need anyone but myself!”

Then he left, and threw a little blue box on the seat next to me. I swear I couldn’t breathe for a full minute. I slowly opened it, and there was a gorgeous necklace stamped with “Please return to Tiffany’s.” I started sobbing uncontrollably and leapt out of the cab, realizing the huge mistakes I had just made. I owed it to Paul to give into myself. Anyone who ever gave you confidence, you owe them a lot.

I called out for Cat until I caught up with Paul around the block. He was holding Cat. Naturally, I apologized profusely and agreed with him that I have some serious abandonment issues and to please give me another chance.

He said yes, and kissed me. Thank goodness, I don’t have the slightest idea who else would ever put up with me.

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Well this is incredibly awkward. I’m minding my own business and packing my things for the west coast when two policemen knock on my door and suddenly tell me that I, Holly Golightly, am under arrest for being involved in dealing cocaine with José. Really though, do I look like a drug dealer? I’m wearing Chanel.

All I could think of when they were putting me in the back of the cop car was how José has yet again let me down. I can’t go to LA with this man. I realized that I didn’t even know him well enough to know that he was dealing coke. And to make matters worse, I noticed Paul peeking out his window at me as I was getting into the car. I tried to hide behind my Raybans but it was no use. He’s probably laughing at me and my poor life choices with his cougar right this minute.


Cat and I are going to LA and I’m never going to have to worry about money again. I can pay back Fred. Isn’t this lovely?

Who needs writers, anyway?

Just when I thought things could not be more complicated, José arrives at my door with a little blue box from my beloved Tiffany’s. There were pearl earrings inside and I couldn’t resist putting them on while he asked for my forgiveness. He also asked if I was interested in a modeling contract out in LA, rather than the acting job (which I inquired, did he give to the café girl?).

I went up to Paul’s to ask him what he thinks I should do, not just for the sake of being with José, but for my career. Or rather, the start of my career. Paul was telling me that he didn’t want to stand in the way of my dreams, but that he wishes I would stay, naturally. I was getting all sorts of emotional and was honestly about to kiss him when Publisher Cougar shows up in his open doorway asking if he was ready for their date. He didn’t say no, so I left.

Honestly, what is wrong with men in this city?


Paul really does a fabulous job at cheering me up. We went out last night to a club and I felt as careless as a 17-year-old. God, I’m only 26. Is that old?

Anyway, after a lot of drinks and dancing, Paul and I realized we like each other. Well, I mean, I certainly enjoy his company. But I can’t like Paul—he is just as poor as I am. He’s funded by a cougar, for God’s sake. What have I gotten into?

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I knew this would happen. It was bound to, I suppose. Paul was at the café around the block from our building and saw José with another woman. He even sent me a photo of them together as proof so I would believe him. How exactly am I supposed to pick up my life in New York and go shoot a movie in LA with a man who is telling other girls the same thing?

I confronted him and ended things. He denied it, of course, but I don’t have time to deal with drama like this. I have plenty of other men that would want to support me, after all. I hope. The only reason I can afford this apartment is because I borrowed money from my brother Fred. Most of my wardrobe is made up of gifts from ex-boyfriends. Poor Cat doesn’t even have a name, let alone a collar. It seems kind of pointless when I barely have my little apartment furnished. Everything seems so temporary. But I like it; I don’t want to be tied down and locked into anything—even making that stupid movie.

Paul and I had a conversation about all this after he told me about José, and that’s when I learned about that older woman I saw him with. She’s his publisher, and also a cougar, evidently, since she wants him and he feels obligated to be with her since she is not only funding his book, but his life while he writes the book.

I told him that better be a good book.


José took me out for lunch today and it was lovely. He is quite rich, I’ve realized, and wasn’t lying when he said he was a director. He invited me to fly out to LA with him soon to play a part in a new movie he’s making. My God, is this really happening? I’ve heard about people coming to cities and meeting the right people at the right time, but I wasn’t sure it would actually happen to me. I mean, I’m from Texas. (I’ve ditched that dreadful accent, thank God.)

A strange thing happened, though, when I was walking up to my building after José’s driver dropped me off. I noticed Paul had an older woman over—maybe about 45—and let’s just say it definitely wasn’t his mother or aunt. Very odd; I didn’t peg him as someone who was into that kind of thing.


My God, what an amazing night. My little studio apartment was filled with all of my favorite people. One of my friends brought this charming man named José over and we really hit it off. I usually prefer the Wall Street types here, but José is a director originally from LA and asked me if I was an actress. I told him I wasn’t anything in particular, but I could be. Also, Paul came. I was half-expecting him to show up, since he seemed a little intimidated when I invited him to a party on one of his first nights in New York. But there he was, chatting with my friends and getting along with everyone. He kept giving me looks when I would catch his eye from across the room. He didn’t seem to get along with José very much, though.

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I was looking for something to wear to a party I’m hosting tomorrow when I noticed Cat standing by the window last night. He leapt out onto the fire escape (I suppose I don’t have much furniture for him to lay on) and I nearly dropped my Chanel perfume.

I ran after him and followed him up the ladder to the floor above us. But when I grabbed him, I couldn’t help but notice the new guy’s window was also open, and he noticed us, too. I looked at Cat and decided this was a good time to introduce ourselves. I waved and he came to the window and invited us in. We ended up talking for hours! I told him about my love for Tiffany’s and he didn’t quite understand, but I explained it this way:


Me: You know those days when you just feel awful?

Paul: Yeah?

Me: It’s horrible. Suddenly you’re afraid and you don’t know what you’re afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?

Paul: Sure.

Me: Well, when I get it the only thing that I can do is jump in a cab and go to Tiffany’s. Calms me down right away. The quietness and the proud look of it; nothing bad could happen to you there. If I could find a real-life place that’d make me feel like Tiffany’s, then – then I’d buy some furniture and give Cat a real name!


Turns out, he’s a writer working on his first book. How typical of a New Yorker, right? Anyway, he seemed absolutely intriguing so I invited him to the party I’m having downstairs tomorrow night.

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Ever since I finally moved to Manhattan, I just can’t seem to stay away from the store front of Tiffany’s on Fifth. Of course I’m far too poor to actually buy something from there, but mornings like today, when I’m still in the dress from whatever party I was at the night before, I like to take a cab there and look through the windows at the gorgeous displays while I drink my coffee and have breakfast.

On my way back, while I was searching through my seemingly endless purse for my apartment key yet again, I noticed I have a new neighbor on the floor above me. A very handsome man named Paul (okay, I might have glanced at his name on the mailbox). I wonder what his story is.

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