Princess on the Brink (The Princess Diaries 8)

Okay, this totally isn’t helping.

And the sight of all these duck heads is really psychologically disturbing to me.

I mean, not as psychologically disturbing as the fact that my boyfriend is apparently moving to Japan for a year.

But almost.

I’m going back out there. I’m going to be supportive. I’m going to be happy for Michael. I’m not going to say anything about how if he really loved me, he wouldn’t go. Because I can’t be selfish. I have had Michael all to myself for nearly two years now. I can’t hog him from the rest of the world, which really does need him, and his genius.

Except.

EXCEPT WHAT AM I GOING TO DO IF I CAN’T SMELL HIS NECK????

I might die.

Tuesday, September 7, 10 p.m., the loft

I shouldn’t have done it.

I know I shouldn’t have done it.

I don’t know why I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. I don’t know why I couldn’t make my lips say the things I wanted them to say, like, “Michael, I am so proud of you,” and, “This really is such a great opportunity.”

I mean, I DID say those things. Really, I did.

But then—as we were walking down that bike path by the Hudson (Lars could barely keep up, we were walking so fast…well, mostly because Lars was texting people on his Sidekick as we went, but whatever), because it was such a nice night and I wasn’t ready to go home yet, because I wanted to squeeze every minute I could out of my last few days with him—and Michael was telling me how excited he was about moving to Japan, and how they eat noodles for breakfast there, and how the shumai you buy on the street are even better than the shumai at Sapporo East—somehow the words, “But, Michael…what about US?” slipped out of my mouth, before I could stuff them back in.

Which is probably the lamest, most idiotic, Lana Weinbergerish thing a girl in my position could have said. Seriously. Pretty soon I’m going to start snapping the back of my own bra and be all, “Why are you wearing a bra, Mia? You don’t need one.”

But Michael didn’t even skip a beat. He went, “I think we’ll be fine. Of course I’m going to miss you. But I have to admit, it’s going to be a lot easier to miss you than it’s been to be around you lately.”

And I totally froze in the middle of the bike path and was like, “WHAT?”

Because I’d known it. I’d totally known it. I’d asked him if part of why he was going had to do with me.

And it turned out I was right.

“It’s just,” he said, “that sometimes I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to deal with it.”

To which I was all, “Deal with WHAT?” Because I had NO IDEA what he was talking about.

“Being with you all the time,” he said, “and not. You know.”

I STILL didn’t get it (yes, I know I am the one who is suffering from developmental retardation and not Rocky, after all).

I was like, “Being with me all the time and not WHAT?”

And Michael finally just had to say, “Not having sex.”

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yes, that’s right. My boyfriend apparently doesn’t mind moving to Japan so much, because that is easier than being around me and not having sex.

I guess I should consider myself fortunate, since it’s clear from this that my boyfriend is a sex maniac, and I am probably lucky to be getting rid of him.

But, of course, that didn’t occur to me at the time. At the time, I was just so shocked by what he said that I had to sit down.

And the closest seat was a swing in the Hudson River Park playground.