The women sat around, looking to their diaries before them. The brunette. Latina. Gabrielle Solis. The blonde. Curvy. Edie Britt. The redhead. Elegant. Bree Van De Kamp. Each of the three women opened up the covers of their new books. Every one of them, about to write something that had changed their lives, their diaries keeping their secrets for them;

Dear, dear diary, I want to tell my secrets

Cuz you're the only one that I know who'll keep them.

Picking up their pens, Gaby, Edie and Bree each got the feel of the atmosphere surrounding them before the smell of the new paper hit their nostrils. For Gaby it was like the smell of the delicate tissues used to wrap the shoes she often received from Carlos when he returned from his business trips. For Edie it was new linen on her bed, each time she found a new fling to take home and seduce. And for Bree, it was like the abuse of the alcohol leaving the bottle when she removed the cork from the neck.

Dear, dear diary, I want to tell my secrets

I know you'll keep them, and this is what I've done.

For Gaby, she'd done something terrible, she and Carlos were at war for it now and it was all her fault, although now she seemed to think it was all Carlos' fault since he was away all the time. And Edie, now she'd done something bad, with her constant war with Susan, which the blonde always saw as banter, she'd tried to steal Mike and for which the doe eyed neighbour had set her house on fire. For the redhead, she had gotten too friendly with men, leading to the one's she loved having their lives impaired in some way or other.

I've been a bad, bad girl for so long

I don't know how to change what went wrong

Daddy's little girl when he went away

What did it teach me? That love leaves.

The three women all sat at their tables, looking through their windows to the street outside, watching the cars go by and the children playing, the girls with their dolls and jumpropes and they looked back to when their troubles started. For Gabrielle it had been when her mother had turned alcoholic, her uncle had tried things with her, and Gaby had had enough, without a father there to protect her, she had took off to New York to become a model, make something of herself. Edie's father had left her and her mother, with some other woman, younger than her mother, he took all of Edie's figures for his new loves' daughter and it had left the blonde distraught, she hated her father for this and she used this against all other men, leaving them before they could leave her, it was a way of getting back at her father. And Breeā€¦her mother had died, and no sooner had she been killed by that car, the redhead's father had remarried to a woman who she disliked, leaving her to fend for herself, turning to her chores around the house as a comfort to stay out of Eleanor's hair.

Dear, dear diary, I want to tell my secrets

Cuz you're the only one that I know who'll keep them.

The women wrote about their feelings on this day, their thoughts about their fathers, telling their stories of their childhoods without the love that any daughter needed from their father at their times of need.

Dear, dear diary, I want to tell my secrets

I know you'll keep them, and this is what I've done.

They wrote about how these things had affected them in their later lives, how when they were growing up, with the lack of the men in their lives, how they either shied from men or flung themselves at men.

I've been down every road you could go

I made some bad choices as you know

Seems I have the whole world cradled in my hands

But its just like me not to understand.

All three women had most definitely been on three very different journeys in their lives. The Latina had left home at fifteen, with no money, traveling up and across the boarder to New York with big dreams for a small body. Edie had had more men in her life than the women on the street had, if you didn't count Susan and Bree, she'd lost many people along the way on her journey to get to where she was at that moment, her mother the main one.

Dear, dear diary, I want to tell my secrets

Cuz you're the only one that I know who'll keep them.

Holding their worlds together, they wrote through the pages of their diaries to communicate their thoughts across when words spoken aloud couldn't convey their emotions for them. The women found they had this in common.

Dear, dear diary, I want to tell my secrets

I've been a bad, bad girl.

They all vowed to keep their diaries in the future, as they had learned of the other two keeping diaries also. It was like a secret club with the three women now. It was a promise they kept together.

I learned my lessons

I turned myself around

I've got a guardian angel tattooed on my shoulder

She's been watching over me.

And still, the women five years later were still keeping diaries, obviously now with the exception of Edie, who they all sorely missed now. Gaby and now Bree had busy schedules with the kids and the housework, and the business and the sex. But still they managed the up keep of their thoughts, climbing into bed when they had nobody to share it with sometimes, and getting out their old friends and letting them know;

I've been a bad, bad girl.