𝐈𝐭 𝗪𝐚𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞⁣ *𝘎𝘦𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘍𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤*

October 16th, 1958

George and I were sitting at a booth in the pub waiting for John and Cynthia.

Paul had gone out somewhere with Dot again. It kind of annoyed me that he kept spending all this time with her, but that just made it less awkward with him around me and George. But sometimes I didn't think Paul even wanted to be out with Dot, I've heard him say some things...

I was sitting on George's lap, resting my hand on the back of his turtleneck I loved. Every so often I played with the back of his hair. I was also wearing that short, black dress that George liked. He had only agreed to wear the turtleneck if I wore the dress.

George had his one hand placed on my knee and he kept running his other hand on the side of my waist.

"Do you think they'll ever come?" George said becoming antsy. He pulled my hair back and started to kiss my neck.

"Yes, they're coming, Cynthia promised me," I said.

George slowly started to put his hand under my dress.

"Come on George," I laughed, taking his hand away.

John and Cynthia were fairly late, by about half an hour. I wonder what had become of them.

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After George and I finished an appetizer we ordered, John and Cynthia finally decided to join us.

"What the hell?!" I gasped.

Cynthia's hair was blonde (and slightly disheveled, revealing what they had done to become late...)

I got up from the table and went over to Cyn.

"What did you do?!" I asked.

"I dyed my hair, don't you like it? John loves it!" She exclaimed.

"We can tell," George laughed behind me.

Cynthia tried to brush her hair down a little more, she was embarrassed. 

Of course John loved it! He was obsessed with Bridgitte Bardot! Every guy in Liverpool loved her blonde hair, fantasized about it! Hundreds of girls were dying their hair because their boyfriends wanted them to. John had made Cynthia do this...

I sat a bit away from George in our side of the booth. Knowing that I was already blonde, I assumed George had lucked out, not having to have his girlfriend dye her hair to look like the French Sex Symbol.

"Doesn't she look stunning," John said putting his arm around Cynthia, lighting up a cigarette.

I nodded my head sarcastically, crossing my arms. Cynthia did look as beautiful as a blonde as she did as a brunette, but I was mad at these immature teenage boys who did this to their girlfriends, trying to get them as close to Bridgitte Bardot as thry possibly could.

George put his hand on my knee again, but I pushed him away. I was angry.

He narrowed his eyebrows a bit, "What's wrong?" He asked.

I rolled my eyes and looked away from him.

He tried to put his hand on my knee again but I scooted away.

He then suddenly pulled me close to him tightly, a bit too hard.

"What's the matter with you?" He muttered in a low voice, keeping me close to him.

John oooed a little a George's aggressiveness. Cynthia sat their silently in shock.

I quickly pulled myself away from George's grasp and pushed past him out of the booth.

"Hey!" I heard George call after me.

I headed to the door and started to walk down the street a little.

I heard some footsteps behind me. I knew it was George, who else.

"Get back here!" He said a bit aggressively.

I didn't look back.

He ran up to me and pulled me around to him. His large hands were grabbed tightly around my wrists. It hurt, but I didn't want to show it.

"Don't you ever talk to me like that!" I exclaimed.

I tried to pull away but his hands wouldn't budge.

"Let go of me," I said sternly.

"What is wrong with you?!" George asked again.

"I am sick and tired of all these men trying to control their girlfriends, George! Now stop!" I said, I felt my eyes start to water and my face redden.

"What do you mean?" He finally let go of me.

"I've seen how John treats Cynthia...And it's not right, you have to know that. I've heard Paul talk to John about Dot and how he doesn't want her to hang out with any of her friends or go out anywhere without him. And John having Cynthia dye her hair?! I don't want you to be like that George," I said, rubbing my wrists.

His facial expression had changed and he looked apologetic.

"I'm so sorry Diana," he said, pulling me into a hug, "I've just seen all of these guys with their girlfriends...I guess it just looked normal."

I slowly stepped away from George and started to walk back to the pub. I was still mad at John.

"Come on Diana," George said trying to cheer me up, "Smile!"

I didn't budge.

George slyly put his hand around my waist and started to run his hand lower than he usually did.

I jumped and laughed, "You pig!"

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