Gigi

I don't know what you want. You told Grandmamma...

Do you mean that?

You told Grandmamma that you wanted to take care of me.

Beautifully. That is, if I like it. They've pounded into my head I'm backward for my age... but I know what all this means. To "take care of me beautifully" means I shall go away with you... and that I shall sleep in your bed.

You weren't embarrassed to talk to Grandmamma about it. And Grandmamma wasn't embarrassed to talk to me about it. But I know more than she told me. To "take care of me" means that I shall have my photograph in the papers. That I shall go to the Riviera, to the races at Deauville. And when we fight, it will be in all the columns the next day. And then you'd give me up, as you did with Inèz des Cèvennes.

Why shouldn't I know? You're world famous. I know about the woman who stole from you, the Contessa who wanted to shoot you, the American who wanted to marry you. I know what everybody knows.

Yes, Gaston. Until it begins again.

Why did he fly off the handle? He knew I'd answer him back.

Gaston, I have been thinking. I'd rather be miserable with you than without you.

What time tomorrow will we get there? / Can I watch you play roulette? / May I stay up late for supper? / Is it awfully awfully upper?

Is everybody celebrated, / full of sin and dissipated? / Is it hot enough to blister? / Will I be your little sister?

The night they invented champagne, / it's plain as it can be / they thought of you and me. / The night they invented champagne, / they absolutely knew / that all we'd want to do / is fly to the sky on champagne / And shout to everyone in sight / that since the world began / no woman or a man / has ever been as happy as we are tonight!

...It's plain as it can be / they thought of you and me. / The night they invented champagne / they absolutely knew / that all we'd want to do / Is fly to the sky on champagne / and shout to everyone in sight

That since the world began / no woman or a man / has ever been as happy as we are tonight!

A necklace is love! A ring is love! / A rock from some obnoxious little king is love! / A sapphire with a star is love! / An ugly black cigar is love! / Everything you are is love! You would think it would embarrass / All the people here in Paris / To be thinking every minute of love!

I don't understand the Parisians / Making love every time they get the chance / I don't understand the Parisians / Wasting every lovely night on romance! Any time and under every tree in town / They're in session two by two / What a crime with all there is to see in town / They can't find something else to do! I don't understand how Parisians / Never tire of walking hand in hand / They seem to love it, and speak highly of it. / I don't understand the Parisians! When it's warm, they take a carriage ride at night / Close their eyes and hug and kiss / When it's cold, they simply move inside at night / There must be more to life than this! I don't understand the Parisians / Thinking love so miraculous and grand / But they rave about it, and won't live without it / I don't understand the Parisians!

With all the talk there is about you, Gaston, I've never heard it said you had any taste in clothes!

Say a prayer for me tonight / I'll need every prayer that you can spare / To get me by... Say a prayer / And while you're praying, keep on saying / "She's much too young to die..." "On to your Waterloo," whispers my heart / Pray I'll be Wellington, not Bonaparte... Oh, say a prayer for me this evening / Bow your head, and please stay on your knees / Tonight...

I don't remember it all by heart. One mustn't read novels; they depress you. Don't wear powder; it ruins the complexion. Don't wear corsets; they spoil the figure.

Your sugar isn't that good. I'd rather play you for candy.

What I would really like - is a Nile green corset with rococo roses embroidered on the garters.

Grandmama, you must admit, one doesn't have to turn oneself inside out for an old friend like Gaston. It's silly. It's absolutely silly.

When it's over and done with, Gaston Lachaille goes off with another lady. And I have only to go into another gentleman's bed. That won't do for me. I'm not changeable. That won't do for me.

Girls are taught a lot of stuff growing up. If a guy punches you he likes you. Never try to trim your own bangs and someday you will meet a wonderful guy and get your very own happy ending. Every movie we see, Every story we're told implores us to wait for it, the third act twist, the unexpected declaration of love, the exception to the rule. But sometimes we're so focused on finding our happy ending we don't learn how to read the signs. How to tell from the ones who want us and the ones who don't, the ones who will stay and the ones who will leave. And maybe a happy ending doesn't include a guy, maybe… it's you, on your own, picking up the pieces and starting over, freeing yourself up for something better in the future. Maybe the happy ending is… just… moving on. Or maybe the happy ending is this, knowing after all the unreturned phone calls, broken-hearts, through the blunders and misread signals, through all the pain and embarrassment you never gave up hope.

But when I was hurling my body onto yours, you did not seem to want to make it happen.

Look, I just went out with your friend Bill. He might be just exactly what I need. No drama, he calls; he does what he says…

But you didn't! And that same wise person told me that I'm the rule. That I have to stop thinking that every guy will change, that I have to stop thinking that...

A girl will never forget the first boy she ever likes.

We are all programmed to believe that if a guy acts like a total jerk that means he likes you.

I may dissect each little thing and put myself out there so much but at least that means that I still care. Oh! You've think you won because women are expendable to you. You may not get hurt or make an ass of yourself that way but you don't fall in love that way either. You have not won. You're alone. I may do a lot of stupid shit but I'm still a lot closer to love than you are.

I think I've figured it out. Remember when I went out with that notary public and he cheated on me and then Anastasia from upstairs told me about how her boyfriend cheated on her in the beginning then he totally changed and now they're married and crazy in love?

No notary. Anyway my point is, Anastasia is the exception, not the rule. We have to stop listening to these stories because they rule is most guys who cheat on you up front don't really care about you very much.

Ok, Ok. Exhibit A. Chad the drummer who lived in a storage space. He only used me for rides and yet I continued to stalk him for most of 1998. Then oh, um, there was Don, that broke up with me every Friday so that he could have his weekends free. I was delusional about that relationship. I used to refer to him as my husband to random people, like my dental hygienist. Anyway, all my friends used to tell me about how things might work out with these dipsticks because they knew someone, who knew someone, who dated a dipstick just like mine. That girl ended up getting married and living happily ever after. That the exception and we're not the exception we're the rule.

Hey Conor, It's GiGi, I just thought that I hadn't heard from you, and I mean how stupid is it taht a girl has to wait for a guy's call anyway, right? Cause we're all equal right? more than equal. more women are accepted into law school now then men. Call me, oh this is GiGi, call me.