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So, it seems Gabriel has seen fit, in his usual drama queen fashion, to publish the information that, not only did I have a very short-lived "paisley skirts and patchouli" phase -- which, I assure you all lasted about three minutes, and was totally about a boy, and therefore an instance of a total loss of faculties -- but that I also have "a secret."

It's true. I do have something to tell you all.

This, as you all must know by now, is a forum on which I express my boundless, devoted, and absolutely sincere love for Trent Reznor. Trent, it must be said, has led me on voyages of discovery, awakened my mind and body, taught me courage, the importance of personal truth, and has, quite literally, been part of my heart and soul, for half my life. Such is the power of art to fill us up and move us in so many ways, and Trent is my favorite artist.

What I don't really talk much about, in this forum, is that I am an aspiring artist, myself. In June, I travelled to London with someone I've been working with for the past two years, a mentor and friend, to assist on a photography gig. That job is the reason I was able to attend two Trent-stravaganzas in London -- experiences of Trent's sheer, staggering potency and raw physical substance -- that were burned, on that occasion, into my very skin.

You all know, obviously, that Trent really, really turns me on, right? Well, some of you may remember that on Thursday, July 13th, in London, I touched Trent, and something strange happened to me. That night, confronted, as I was, with his sheer responsive reality, I was filled with a strange, almost paradoxical, voracious dreaminess. I wandered back to the hotel slowly, alone and in a haze, through the streets of London, and every nerve in my body was tingling and alive with almost painful desire. It was as if my boiling blood was coursing through my veins, and carrying not oxygen to my brain, but pure, unadulterated LOVE. 

I'm not sure how to explain how I felt, exactly, but it was like being drunk. I was buzzing with the heat of it, absolutely disoriented, and when I arrived at the hotel, Michel, my friend, was there, waiting for me. I saw him for the first time that night, and he saw right through me. His sharp, blue eyes drilled cool holes in my defenses, and a relationship that we had both tried to keep professional for so long -- Michel is more than 20 years older than me, and I had been working with him since I was only 19 years old -- became something else. Being touched at that moment was truly something I cannot describe, and I totally surrendered.

In the early hours of the morning, Michel convinced me that I should come to Paris, and enroll in art school there. Gabriel and I were having issues, like usual, because he is an immature, melodramatic little INFANT, and it seemed like it might be a good idea to spread my wings a little. Michel, like Trent, in his distant way, has always encouraged me to seek new vistas and fertilization for my work, and it was as if all the romance of Paris, the city of art and love, called me in his voice; so, at the end of June, I rented a top story walk-up in the garret of a beautiful old building, intending to stay for a summer course of study, and return to school in San Diego in the fall. 

Well, I missed that deadline.

After our night together in London, Michel and I agreed that it was a little crazy, and that we should keep our relationship platonic. He is 46 years old, and I wasn't sure I didn't land in his arms that night in London for all the wrong reasons (I mean, maybe it's only in movies that people call out the wrong name in the heat of passion, but that doesn't mean that your mind and heart can't be full of one man while your body is with another). So, we went back to our old way of being and working together, and Michel continued to mentor me with all my work.

The thing is, over the past month or so, something has happened. I don't know if it's the cooler weather, and the way we sit closer together to stay warm, or the way Paris feels like a storybook all the time, with it's gorgeous streets and little cafes, but something has changed for me. Maybe it's the wine, or the white flowers Michel sends me every monday, or the way, whenever he comes to my little flat, he fills it up with his warm, clean scent; but the thought of leaving Paris has become impossible to entertain.

Last week, I told Michel I couldn't leave Paris, and he kissed me deeply and with hypnotic slowness that left me totally limp, and he asked me to marry him. Since I can only assume the fact that Trent has yet to answer any of my letters probably means he has no intention of claiming me for his own, I said yes.

And that, my friends, is why Gabriel thinks I'm "on crack."

Fuck you, Gabriel.

Posted by Dierdre ~ in inside_dierdre | Permalink


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Gabriel's just bitter because, now that he's openly sucking cock, he wants you to be his fag hag, and he feels you slipping from his bony grasp.

Posted by: Baal Glyttr | Oct 7, 2005 1:20:46 PM

I'm so happy for you, Dierdre. You were right about Gabriel. It hurts, but I'm done.

Posted by: Alex | Oct 7, 2005 1:27:43 PM

I guess Maise and I aren't in the best spirits about marriage right now....but I hope all turns out the way you hope D. Congrats.

As for older men...I did that too. But I don't think that's went wrong with my situation...let's just say, I don't bode too well living with a moody self centered artist (that's the nicest thing I can say right now).

It's fun to talk fantasy, but if confronted even with the likes of Trent friggen Reznor, I'd say no thank you (see comment above about moody self centered artist).


Happy weekend all.

Posted by: bex | Oct 7, 2005 1:35:05 PM

Congrats, D! I had my suspicions... and I'm actually pretty happy for you. I'm sad that I probably won't get to meet you, though, haha. Paris is a little out of my reach. =P

Posted by: Kim | Oct 7, 2005 2:01:03 PM

Nice, Bex. Way to shit on Dierdre's happiness.

Dierdre, I'm happy for you, but I hope this doesn't mean you're going to forget about your true love.

Posted by: Jane | Oct 7, 2005 2:13:10 PM

Oh, NICE, Dierdre. Way to watercolor the whole thing up so it looks like you're just some blissfully in love girl who met the fella of her dreams. Wedding Barbie called; she wants her pink taffeta back.

Why don't you tell the readers the part of your story that you've left out, hm? Why don't you explain to them how you're betraying not only me with this shit, but them, and Michael Trent Fucking Reznor himself, you sell-out???

Posted by: Gabriel | Oct 7, 2005 2:30:10 PM

Ah l'amour! Oh Dierdre, I am so very happy for you! To find a wonderful, romantic Frenchman. And this mai jusqu'a decembre romance is a beautiful thing. It is better to have a mature man who knows what he is doing to be your life partner than a man who is infantile and knows very little about les mysteres d'amour. I am hoping to be invited to your wedding, if I may be presumptuous.

As for Mme. Jane's comments and Gabriel's comments, I know that you are not betraying notre amour. I know that you are moving on to a love that is true for you and your heart. And I can only wish for myself the same happiness you have found in a long-distance relationship, where, once you are together with your amoureux, you find the true meaning of l'amour et la vie. Use this love to deflect the ill feeling of all of the haters.

Grosses Bises, cherie. I know that notre amour would be as happy for you as I am. xxxxxxoxxxxx

Posted by: Mimi | Oct 7, 2005 2:44:06 PM

Congratulations, Dierdre! I think Gabriel's just being bitchy because he misses you...

Posted by: maise | Oct 7, 2005 3:10:12 PM

Why do I feel so sad, suddenly?


Posted by: Dierdre | Oct 7, 2005 3:15:38 PM

Don't be...I'm sure this will all work out fabulously, and I'm truly happy for you!

Not to steal your thunder in any way, but I would REALLY appreciate the opportunity to throw this out there:

Hey WTCers...since my life has become totally fucked up in the matter of seconds, I'd really like some advice from people who don't actually know me...you know, more objective, yet sympathetic types. Unfortunately, I'm not going to be able to spill my guts on this until Monday morning...but then, I will need advice STAT!

So if you're up to the "Help Maise sort out her totally fucked-up life" challenge, send me an email...and the fun will start Monday!

Posted by: maise | Oct 7, 2005 3:52:52 PM

Jane has a point. D. I hope my pissy mood did not come off like I was not happy for you. I am very happy for you. If I came off any other way, I truly apologize.

D., you guys going to stay in Paris??? I'm envious. I'm going to make it there some day; seriously I must. 1/4 of my heritage comes from France.

And, I do not think you are betraying TR. He doesn't know what he's missing though with you know being taken.


Gab., can you please try and be supportive of your best friend??? We all have to follow our hearts. Friends support one another through thick & thin. D.’s plans are not a betrayal of you!

Posted by: bex | Oct 7, 2005 5:56:47 PM

Look what just appeared at nin.com:


Posted by: Carla | Oct 7, 2005 6:00:21 PM

Dierdre, love ya babe, but DON'T DO IT!!! Those Frenchmen are nasty pieces of work. He just wants some hot little arm candy to show off to all his French buddies, and you fit the bill perfectly. You watch. Michel and his friends will all be sitting around a cafe and will be comparing notes on their twentysomething girlfriends. He only wants to marry you now and then, as soon as you hit 30, he'll dump your ass for the next 20something that comes along. Fucking get out of there now!!! Fuck, I wish I had a hotline to Trent; I'd tell him to stop his fucking pansy-assed MOTP clapping and get his PVC pants on a plane to Paris to bang some sense into you...

Posted by: Buttercup_J | Oct 7, 2005 6:04:02 PM

oh no, does this mean you are going to reproduce eventually??

Posted by: Mr.Malm | Oct 7, 2005 6:04:05 PM

re: carla's post -- Holy Hell! Trent's left Jessica for Meg???!!! Or is Meg just confused because Jack looks like TPD Trent these days?

Posted by: Buttercup_J | Oct 7, 2005 6:06:07 PM

Another pic just appeared - Trent is fucking with our heads.


P.S. Congrats Dierdre...life is short, just enjoy it and don't worry about what anybody says.

Posted by: Carla | Oct 7, 2005 7:16:31 PM

The new guy looks like Aaron and Alessandro's love child with a little Jerome thrown in, because judging by his legs, he's tall.

Posted by: Kim | Oct 7, 2005 7:49:18 PM

He also has a little bit of Trent with the Perfect Drug era hair.

Posted by: Carla | Oct 7, 2005 7:52:14 PM

Nah, that hair is an Aaron trait to me LOL... looks like they're competing for worst sex hair.

Posted by: Kim | Oct 7, 2005 7:56:48 PM

I love how Trent always has that come hither look in every picture...you just know he's thinking naughty thoughts.

Posted by: Carla | Oct 7, 2005 8:11:45 PM

I don't like it, I want Jerome!

As for Meg, she looks better w/ Trent than JESSICA (GAG)!

Posted by: bex | Oct 7, 2005 8:33:40 PM

Bex, I'm sad to say that you don't know the whole story yet. There's something more than just "Dierdre finding love" going on here. If she'll have the balls to spill it, instead of just vanishing into the night.

Posted by: Gabriel | Oct 7, 2005 8:48:03 PM

Well, Gab. honestly, I guess it's none of my business the rest of the story, but whatever anyone wishes to do, I do wish them the best. If there is some reason for concern, probably the best thing you can do is be her friend.

Posted by: bex | Oct 7, 2005 8:59:27 PM

Believe me, Bex, I am being her best friend in the world when i tell her that she IS IN DENIAL and is acting CRAZY.

Trust me.

Posted by: Gabriel | Oct 7, 2005 9:05:43 PM

Okay, now you are starting to worry me.


Posted by: bex | Oct 7, 2005 9:13:37 PM

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