Thank you all for reading and reviewing. I know I've been a bit lazy lately but here you have the end. I hope you'll like it cause I felt a bit stressed when I realised I'm doing what I hate when others do – quit writing on a story I follow. Enjoy, I had fun )

And as you know…I don't own anything. Not even the computer I'm writing on.

Chapter 8 – frankly my dear butt…

Thursday 7 June

Weight 60 (v.g.) calories1976, cigarettes none! (Working on giving them up so that Marc will see that I'm ready to try harder this time. Plus – they're bad for your skin.) alcohol units 4 (nobody's perfect…)

Right. I know I waited a bit long to tell Marc. But it's not like it's all been sofa time. Even though you should never underestimate the value of a good soap opera – they learn you things about relationships your parents would never dream about telling you. Something about learning the hard way or not wanting to teach the children that everything sucks. Cause it might turn out okay If you only believe. Personally, I think it's just a load of crap. "Learning the hard way" is just an excuse for the parents to see their children mess up there lives. Cause then there own life doesn't come out as bad in compare. I know that's what I'd do at least.

But like I said. I have been using this time to get healthier and to come up with something good to say when I see Marc. I still haven't got any ideas of what to say however, so I think I will just take it as it comes. Nobody want a learnt speech anyway, right?

So - I went home to Marc. And this beautiful girl with legs like Rebecca opened the door. She looked at me as if I was from another planet. I might as well have been, cause even with having spent hours in front of the mirror before coming there, I looked like a wreck compared to her. Her hair was all shimmering and her dress was so elegant and yet she had that casual look about her. I bet she's just one of those people who could walk into the Oscar's without anybody realising she shouldn't be there. And if she would sit in a cabin with a cup of hot chocolate she would fit perfectly too, like an ad. I wouldn't even be surprised if she woke up looking like that.

I was thinking that if I'm still not lesbian, nothing in the world could make me. Then I realised that I was just standing there, amazed, and the horrible thought hit me – why was she in Marc's house?

"Yes?" She asked. She sounded polite even though I could feel she was irritated. I wonder how she does that? ...

Back to reality Bridget!

Of course she wants me to go! She's probably having a wonderful time with my ex- could have been -husband. I prepared myself to get the hell out of there when I remembered Rebecca. How I had hated that woman – and still, everything had set out for the best. So I decided to at least try.

"Hello. I'm Bridget Jones." Goofy smile. "I wonder if I could talk to Marc for a minute. Or perhaps two." Nervous laugh.

"Well…I'm afraid not…" What! She would have him all evening and she couldn't even give me two minutes!

"… Cause there's nobody named Marc living here." Oh. Relief… quickly followed by confusion.

"So, when did he move then?"

"Actually I don't know. But my fiancé and I moved in about a month ago."

"Okay. Thanks."

"No problem." Breathe taking smile. Maybe I should ask her for some clothing tips. No, that would be weird. And it wouldn't matter anyway, cause I didn't have the legs. She closed the door and I walked away, quite shaken. She just couldn't be human that one.

Friday 8 June

Hours in the mirror for nothing last night. But now I have checked things up and I know where Marc lives. And most importantly – I know he lives there alone. Actually, he could have a cat, I bet they don't write in cats.

What's weird though is that he lives in a whole different place now. It's still a nice neighbourhood, but it's not as close to the city and it's not at all as expensive. I hope he hasn't got fired! Oh, come of it Bridget! That doesn't matter really cause I'd love him anyways. It's just a bonus that he's top barrister. A really nice bonus. Like the butt. The butt is such a great bonus.

I'm on my way then. In my best clothes and my new mascara. Nothing can go wrong. Oh, who am I kidding? Everything can go wrong! I'll just hope it wont.

Saturday 9 June

I met Marc outside his house. He was – listen to this – watering he's flowers! At first I thought it was the gardener, but then I noticed the butt. I looked at it for a while until some old lady walked by and gave me a disgusted look. Then I made my presence known by coughing very naturally and ladylike (– or not.) Marc turned around looking surprised, then he got up and looked very glad to see me, only to remain in the same place looking very indignant. I walked the few feet left so that we had a normal talking space.

"Hello Bridget. What do you want?" Nice. Very nice.

"If you don't want to talk to me than just say so. I'm not here to get money or anything if that's what you think." He looked as if he tried to tell whether I was telling the truth. Then he finally spoke.

"I'm sorry. I just didn't expect you to come by. Three months later."

"Well you're not so good at picking up the phone either." I gave him a friendly smile. I just couldn't be angry that he hadn't called right now. He smiled back and brushed some dirt of his kneed before removing the working gloves.

"That's true. Maybe that was the problem all the time. We wore both too proud." He sounded like it was no chance of making it right. It had to be!

"Maybe it was." I said. "But I think it also was my stupidity and way of always saying something else than what I mean." Ha! There you have for pride! I'm not too proud to admit my own mistakes.

"I guess that played a big part to." He laughed. "But then again my "upper class bitch" image didn't help much either."

"So you admit it, do you?" I was just teasing him. But he looked me in the eyes very seriously.

"Yes, I do. Even though I thought at the moment that you were overdoing it, I realised later you had a point. So I sold the house and moved here. Now I'm working on the upper class bitch thing so that the next perfect girl won't leave me because I fold my underpants." He was thinking about getting another perfect girl! So maybe this was no idea… but wait!

"You think I'm perfect?" He suddenly became very aware of his shoes and studied them for what seemed like ages. I held my breath.

"Of course I do. We just weren't perfect for each other."

"But see, here's where you're wrong! We were perfect because weren't. I liked that you folded your underpants and that you knew so many things. And I like to think that on the areas that you lacked in knowledge I could fill in. When you were too uptight I was too released, so that together we were perfect." Not so bad for someone who didn't have a speech, huh?

"Oh, Bridge. That sounds good. So why did it never work?"

"Maybe because we didn't talk enough about our feelings. Cause I know I sometimes felt things you never got to know because I couldn't express myself. But Daniel said…" Oh shit!

"Daniel!"

"Yes… I bumped into him." My turn to be aware of my shoes. " He said that he thought we were perfect. And I mean if he says so it has to be true, right? He also said that you should realise I will always be me, but that if you love me half as much as I love you… Like in I love you, Marc! Not as in Cleaver loving me…anyways…. Then you should be able to live with my abnormality." He actually smiled at me. Please God don't let this be the end of it. He must know by now I'm not interested in Daniel.

"Okay. If Daniel Cleaver says we're perfect…then as you say, it must be true. But Bridget I don't know if I can take splitting up many more times." Oh, he sounded really hurt.

"Three at the tops!" Then he gave me a smile that convinced me now and for all that I would never be able to love a woman. And never another man. Maybe not even a child - as much as I love him. I smiled back at him. And then I realised he had just made a joke, and a good one too. That was actually rare, so maybe we could change. I would start that honestly thing right now!

"I love your butt in those jeans…"

And one thing led to another… now I'm in Marcs bed. Thank god he hasn't started with cheap beds. I don't think I ever wanna leave this place. Let's hope I don't have to.

Tuesday 12 June

Wonderful life. Wonderful Marc. Wonderful butt. So we have yet again set a date for the wedding, this time in August. I've always wanted an autumn wedding. And this time I know we'll make it, even though we will have our problems. I have quit smoking for real (although I don't know for how long), and Marc has quit being an upper class bitch. It's like a fairytale… I'm going to be Bridget Darcy!

…I'll live with it.

The end

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