Johnnie is still gloomy! Poor fellow. I do love him but I don't know why. He takes me places (if he wants to go) and gives me things and is very gentle leading me through crowds and does everything and is everything that a man should be except to talk with me; to tell me that I'm the loveliest lady in the world; to dream with me and fondle me.
Met John in town. We had dinner together and saw a fairly interesting movie.
Johnnie is still gloomy! Poor fellow. I do love him but I don't know why. He takes me places (if he wants to go) and gives me things and is very gentle leading me through crowds and does everything and is everything that a man should be except to talk with me; to tell me that I'm the loveliest lady in the world; to dream with me and fondle me.
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Another day and I have not heard from him. Two consecutive days! I may be dead for all he knows.
"Rejected love turn to something very much like hatred." I lit Mr. D's cigarette for him today. Naturally, he told me how sweet it tasted. John won't let me light his for him. John has not called me. I would like to know whether or not he got his stock and how late he had to work.
I hope I am not sorry for myself. Easter Sunday and John would not go to church with me. He did not call or come around. At five I went to his home for supper - the usual evening followed. No attention paid to me by John.
This has been the saddest Easter day I have ever known. Instead of rejoicing at church services I felt like weeping. The feeling is not pessimistic or gloomy - just gently sad. The whiteness of the lilies, the softness of the chanting. I try to convince myself that we do not love each other - that my love for him is dead - and all the while I am continuing schemes to re-win him.
Perhaps if I am as cheerful and entertaining as possible without showing any affection, he may miss it as I have missed it from him. He came tonight and brought me a large and beautiful Easter egg. With it was one pound of jelly eggs which he knows I am fond of. He can I be indifferent to him? Sewing and working on my rug make me feel that I am just marking time - just waiting for something unknown.
John came and we went to the "movies." I tried to be gay. We did a little shopping and played cards this evening. We even had gin cocktails. Infidel! God forgive me for pleasing him instead of thee. I lacked the courage to mail the note. I believe I could have and would have mailed it if he had not called me at the office. Why won't he apply a little psychology? A little compliment or caress now and then would mean so much.
Tomorrow will come. He will come. There will be nothing new or interesting, no thrill at seeing him come in with a ready smile and a kiss. He will not take a walk with me and will want to go to the morning pictures, which idea I dislike on Good Friday. Could she have been right when she said that John does not appreciate me. I would if a little competition would solve the problem. The result of a long engagement?
I have written a note to John to say "good-bye." He came this evening in fairly good humor but he admitted that he has no affection for me. The note I am sure, will be a surprise to him. Can it be possible that I have seen him for the last time? If I can keep a cool and level head - I have. Sewing - making a new dress.
Another evening and he did not call. John is very impetuous - He goes at something new with all his (?), vim, and vigor and soon tires of it. It is even true of me. He fought until he saw me every day in the week. If he couldn't see me he called. He cut down the number of evenings he used to come and see me and now is going to stop calling me. I have heard not a word from him today.
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ContextThis is the journal of Virginia Lee Scott, my grandmother, written when she was seventeen and first dating my grandfather, John Arnold Wilson. It's a dairy published by Media Drug Stores and includes space for two entries per day, with facts about the era printed at the bottom, which I have included in italics. Following, 1928, is the journal of John Arnold Wilson, my grandfather, at age nineteen and in love with my grandmother, followed by my grandmother's journal in 1931. Archives
April 2018
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