Persian Girl Diary

Hello everybody (nobody), I have started this secret blog as an outlet for my deepest, darkest, most vulnerable thoughts. As a quick introduction, at the time of this post I am a 21 year old woman. That’s enough context for now. Whatever ridiculous mess you see in this diary, try to remember that I’m just a baby.

Let’s start with the most prevalent topic in my life currently: SAMUEL CONSTABLE

I started this blog a little late because boy oh boy was I in shambles over this boy about a year ago. For some background, I met this Australian dream boy on an internship on February 13, 2025. I still remember the first time he sat next to me at the lunch table and started speaking with that ridiculously charming accent. I instantly made fun of it, and being a master of impressions, I dazzled him with my worse-than-garbage Australian accent. He was so easy to make laugh, or maybe it’s just my natural charm (it wasn’t), but both can go hand in hand. During that time, I was in a period of limbo where I had no interest in any men. I was over all of my previous torturers/torturees? I made a comment to my friend that the Austalian guy was kinda cute, and quickly moved on with my life. I did shoot him a quick teams message and have a little chat, but this is a testament to how little he meant to me back then. I would never randomly message a guy who mattered to me! I may be an extrovert, but setting myself up for a brutal rejection? Not my style.

Well this peace lasted about a week until I was invited to an intern party, “Kenan’s Krib”. This was a highly exclusive club with a 0.5% acceptance rate amongst all interns. When I say Kenan ran a tight ship, I mean it. I finally got an invite through my lord and saviour Trevor, a lovely fellow with slight autism and a big heart. They were having a Friday night function. I get ready and all my good clothes reek of body odour so I had to settle with an average outfit that I didn’t feel awfully sexy in. When I get to the party, there are a few interns and I get to chatting. Lots of small talk, lots of yelling, but overall I was getting bored. Until he walked in.

I instantly recognize the cheeky bugger as the Australian fellow from a few days ago. I start chatting him up, asking him if he has games in his phone, the usual tactics for a man with clear signs of ADHD. Conversation was flowing but I still wasn’t in my head over it, until the incident. I get a hold of the AUX cord and start playing one of my favourite classics “What is Love”. Not a lot of reactions from the crowd but through the corner of my eye, I see the Australian boy dancing. It wasn’t a stellar dance, but it was so real. I knew it was over for me from that second on. I had spent years complaining to my friends that no one dances at parties anymore, and boom, here he comes dancing at the party. It felt like love at first sight for me.

I spent the rest of the night following him around like a clingy dog, trying to impress him and make him laugh in literally any way I know how. I was pulling out all of the stops. Then I suggest we do some Just Dance choreographies. I strategically pull out a Fancy Footwork choreo that I have memorized from start to finish and I started leading it. This led us into a pipeline of him teaching us a classic Australian line dance. I forget what it’s called now but it was exhilarating. That led us into a giant wormhole of line dancing, which I will forever associate him with.

A friend Avi had suggested we go to a line dancing place called Mavericks. Nobody wanted to go except me, Avi, and Sam. One thing about Sam is he never said no to anything, cheeky f*cker. I meet Avi at his place and we pick up Sam and head on off. When we get to Mavericks it was only two stepping! Not what we signed up for! Luckily, beautiful Avi taught me how to do it and I instantly went to use my newly learned skills on Sam. I grab him onto the dance floor, clearly against his will, and we start two-stepping. Man, I was too shy to even look into his eyes, but everytime I would build the courage to look up, I would see his gorgeous smile and feel weak in the knees (cliche, I know). We spent the rest of the night two stepping, and then line dancing. We were so bad when we started, but the first one we got a hang of is Copperhead Road. The exhilerating feeling of being able to scream “hoooooweee” and not crash into everybody around you. If I ever did crack, that’s probably what it would feel like.

Fast forward 3 months of dancing, sex, sleepovers, chipotle in bed, binging avatar the last airbender, singing 21 Chumpstreet and Hamilton together (guys he was a nerd! A NERD!), I had fallen completely in love with him. Head over heels in love. I was ignoring all the red flags, clear signs that he was not over his ex and potentially never would be (damn you, Grace), his mood switches when he would wake up next to me and clearly didn’t want me there anymore. None of it mattered as long as it meant I got to look into his eyes and feel him close to me (i’m the biggest bird).

I still remember the day I left Austin for the first time. I drove home from Mavericks with Sam and a few other friends, we were all exhausted and I was too embarrassed to ask to sleep over at Sam’s one last time. He had barely been getting any sleep that week and didn’t seem to be in the mood. I thought we would have an emotional goodbye and instead, Sam gave me a weak side hug and said “byee Bahar!”. I couldn’t hold back the second he got out of the frame. Tears started falling uncontrollably from my face and even now just remembering that, I start crying again. I was absolutely destroyed. I meant nothing to a man that I loved and cared so deeply for (yes it was only 3 months I know, persian girls move quick). I felt like my heart had phsyically broken into one million pieces and I was holding my chest as if I had just gotten shot.

I continued to cry for the next day, the plane ride back to Toronto, the car ride to my house, when I got to the house. For about a month I was inconsolable. Bringing up his name, thinking of him, all of it would instantly have me bawling my eyes out. I couldn’t stop thinking about him so I got his address from my instacart and sent him a letter basically professing my feelings and how much I thought of him. No answer, no answer, no answer, no answer, and I did what any normal girl would do. I flew right back to Austin to be reunited with my love! From the day I saw him again, it was sparks flying. It felt like we had never been apart. We spent every second together (well not really, he spent his only day off playing golf with his other friends), but it felt like we spent every second together.

When my time was up, he dropped me off at the airport and he gave me a gift and his reply letter. I read that letter on the plane and sobbed like a baby. It felt like validation that maybe there were some mutual feelings between us, and it wasn’t just me. I thought that things would change after that. Maybe he would finally see how much I love him, how much I’m willing to sacrifice, and try to persue something despite our obvious obstacle (I moved back to Canada and he was leaving back to Australia in one month). Well on the bright side, that glorification didn’t last long because he was very quick to jump back in bed. The way my heart dropped when I found out from a friend that he had spent the night with another woman from the club, and then another, and then another, and then another. One was even an intern, Viviana. I know I shouldn’t say this, but I wish she would kill herself. The choice was always Sam’s, but the hate I feel for her, for getting to have sex with the only man I had ever loved, is indescribable.

Sam did his apologies, but how can it ever be the same after that? I couldn’t even breathe around other men. I was looking for internships in Sydney; I was searching up how to make long-distance work, crying every day, mourning him. All it took for him was me leaving for a week until he felt his dick was too dry and needed some warm loving from another woman.

We briefly reconnected for a few months after his apology; we would have our weekly flirty conversations and he even made me a playlist, but I just couldn’t take it anymore. I sent him a crazy voice message where I basically said: “I love you too much and I’ll never get over you if I keep you in my life”, and I then blocked him on January 10, 2026. Naturally, I kept thinking about him every day. I would check the playlist he made for me, he kept adding songs for about two months after I blocked him, but he eventually got over it and deleted the playlist. I unblocked him after a few months, thinking maybe he would see it and come back to me. He would like my roommate’s stories with me in them, and commented on one of her posts that I was a part of. Fuck I’m crying in real life again lol.

I gave him one drunken call on June 14, 2026 when I was plastered in the Dominican Republic. I knew what I was doing was wrong but when you’re drunk you just don’t care. He was busy so he gave me a call back the next day. He called me and we caught up, and it was so so so fucking boring. No angry love confessions, no admissions of missing eachother, just old coworker talks. I wanted to tell him how much I had missed him, but it was so obvious that he didn’t miss me, that I just kept it to myself. Miscommunication trope or schizophrenia? We caught up about mundane stuff, shared a few fake laughs, he told me that his comments and likes never meant anything and he just liked seeing reminders of Austin, and that was that. In a way, that helped me so much. All the pondering about whether he thought about me too, fully answered. He had moved on, was living a beautiful life, and I was a cool part of his past.

That leads back to today, I’ve tried out things with other men but nothing has worked out so far. I got to share a fun night with Bob Dylan’s hot ass nephew (I’m being completely serious), and go on dates with my first gorgeous latin and bisexual man (found out because he listened to Cocteau Twins). Just want to quickly flex that everyone mentioned was met in person, no dating apps for this chick. But both of these were in Austin, so when I came back to Canada, I naturally ended everything (actually, I got ghosted by Bob Dylan’s nephew, hey you win some you lose some). Anyways, I’m writing this while listening to a song that I stole from Sam’s main spotify playlist (that I actually stalk quite frequently), so in the end he’s the real winner.

I hope I can stick to this blog and maybe someone, someday, in the far future will read this blog and get to know me a bit better. If you’re my future husband, please don’t have retroactive jealousy. I would never date/marry you if I wasn’t absolutely head over heels in love with you. You’ll probably see your own name in these blogs.

Goodbye blog, I love you ❤