You go girl!
(He's gone too far this time!)
If you regularly read newspapers and magazines you will hear about how women are leaving men in record numbers. 80% of relationships are terminated by women who are finding life is better without the mere male. We never hear publicly about the possibility that men have something to complain about too. That would be sexist! So this page is by way of setting things straight, my tale of sexual expulsion of former grilfriends. Yes ladies, men don't just suffer from commitmentphobia. We actually sometimes have a commitment to quality.
Number two (There is no number one grilfriend)
She was so enchanting when I first met her. She wore beautiful earrings depicting Aztec gods and Indian bangles on her ankles. At her place there were nice rugs from Nepal and incense burnt fairly constantly. But the love-making was a bit of a chore. We had to get into tantrick positions. That's the rare moments when we did get to make love, because a lot of the time she was away on buddhist "retreats." Other nights she was at yoga or busy meditating at home.
I started to get more annoyed when she wanted to read my star sign and connected everything we did back to the fact that Venus was in Uranus. Over time I discovered to my annoyance that she embraced acupuncture, kineaseology, necromancy, wiccaism, kleptomania, environmentalism and breath therapy. The final straw however was the day I discovered she was a tofu linguistic programmer.
So long honey.
Number three
This grilfriend was initially a big improvement on Number Two. I thought she was heaven on a stick. This woman would do absolutely everything I ever wanted and a lot that I had never dreamed I wanted. She was my sex slave. Making love all night was fine by her but if I just wanted a quick poke that was good too. And in the morning she made me breakfast with fruit salad and orange juice. She bought me gifts and asked me how my day was. She said I was smart and boosted my ego.
But things started to go wrong pretty soon. Conversation became a difficult area. Did she take an interest in politics? Nope. Did she take an interest in art? Nope. Did she take an interest in history, news, animal rights, travel writing or architecture? Nope. But she liked dieting.
Sadly I realised that there was no mirror to myself. She did not stimulate my mind and in the end even the sex was unchallenging. It is with some regret I had to end the story.
So long honey.
Number four
At first it was exciting. She walked straight out of a beauty catalogue. She had the cutest little ass and a little shimy in her walk that had other men ogling as we walked down the street. The sex was great too. Typically she would come over about midday and ask to use my computer. Then I would make lunch for her. Afterwards we fucked like minks (just like in Basic Instinct!). And then she would ask me to help her to do some renovating at her place.
The next day it was the same story. But this time she asked if she could borrow my car for a few days. The next time she called it was to borrow a few books and could I write an essay she had to hand in at university. I got a shag for that too. Three days later she rang me and the first thing she asked was...yet another favour. It took me a few more days to work out what was going on. Oohh my God. She was using me!!!
So long honey.
Number five
A month after we were going out I discovered that I couldn't do a thing right. Well, of course I used to think I did do things right, but not any more. When I got together with Femme Four my every move was suddenly flawed. DON'T do that, it's immature. DON'T do that, it's offensive. DON'T you know where a clitoris is?! WHY do you never buy me flowers? Did you wash up properly, these glasses are still dirty. Don't you have any CONTEMPORARY music? DID you remember your mother's birthday? Men are so forgetful.
I couldn't move my hand without a tirade of chastisement. I started to question my credibility as a human. Was I really defective? After putting up with this for months I finally managed to give her a solution to all her disappointments.
So long honey!
Number six
In all the French movies I used to watch there was one enchanting character: the femme fatale. Oh how I wanted to meet such an electrifying female. But little did I know what I was in for. One afternoon she was a bundle of joy, flirtatious, loving and nurturing. An hour later she was crying inconsolably, about something. She couldn't tell me what. The next day it was another variation on the theme. First she came on to me like an absolute hornbag but as soon as we started to embrace she shut down like a steel trap. Later that evening when we went out she came onto a Hell's Angel at a bar and I was worried she would get me into deep water. With utter calm she told me later to stop being so possessive.
The following week, she asked me in a jubilant mood, what do you think of my new dress? I told her it was nice. She was pleased but unconvinced. You don't really like it though, do you? Well. It's ok. Tell me the truth. I told you, it's ok. You hate my dress, she bawled and ran back into her bedroom. Oh for fuck's sake.
So long honey.
Number seven
The smoker: Yea I know I'm concentrating on the nooky but it was the one thing that stood out about her. When we were having sex I could feel the sweat pouring off her as soon as things got a little energetic. That would be nice except she wasn't panting with excitement. It was just that a tiny little movement got her exhausted. After a while all she ever did was lie underneath me and groan out of time to the beat. My sheets stank of stale Marlboro Man after every night she was over at my place.
Then she started leaving butts everywhere: in the ashtray by the bed, in the backyard, in my potted fern. But the final stroke was when I made her dinner and she stubbed one out in the last of the Creme Caramel.
So long honey.
Number eight
The relationship started so calmly that I could never have expected the subsequent developments. Within a month she would go into regular jealous rages. She refused to let me leave the house in case I was seeing other women. She started going through my diary, my phone contacts. The first thing I heard whenever we met was "Did you fuck her?! Did you fuck her?! Come on admit it. You fucked her didn't you! Didn't you." She could keep this up for an hour and then continue again the next day.
Then one night I was sitting at a bar with another female, when out of the blue Femme Number 8 arrived at my table. "So this is the one you're fucking, arsehole", she cried out, and tipped the table and all the beer into my lap.
"It's my bloody sister, you fool" I cried out. Goddamit! She's gone too far this time.
So long honey.
(Ok so it wasn't my sister, it was of course numero nuevo.)
Number nine
Now I am not one for objectifying women but she was built to give pleasure to men. What a body. It took a while of chasing to get her but I finally succeeded after several nights of dating (she paid). Number 9 wasn't into eating at restaurants much and preferred to hang out in coffee shops. She was so sweet that I told her that this relationship could be permanent. That was when things seemed to change.
When we first met she had been a keen swimmer. This stopped. The aerobics also seemed to go out the window. It wasn't long before I noticed that she seemed to be eating junk food constantly. She always had to have a can of coke nearby and a chocolate bar. Slowly she started to widen and I discovered that maybe beauty IS kind of skindeep. Look, I like a juicy arse as much as the next man, but a butt-bag of oranges is another matter. Yea, real men do notice cellulite!
So long honey.
Number ten
You thought this was going to be one negative view of women after another didn't you. Well you're waaaaay wrong!
We met in a bar and the moment that our eyes met I knew that this woman was really different. I sat down and introduced myself and ordered a Guinness. For the next four hours we talked about ourselves in great depth, although I have to admit to doing most of the talking. It was so easy to reveal my inner self, to let her know how I felt about the world and human nature.
She was a great listener, probably because she was also a practicing psychologist and provided just the right prompts to show she understood. I could tell she was smart and in the back of my mind I imagined the moment when I would invite her back to my place. It was a good thing this bar was open all night because suddenly I noticed that it was getting light outside. We left the building together and walked into a brand new dawn.
She hailed a cab and I opened the door to let her in. But then something weird happened. She pulled the door shut on me. Then she wound down the window and said: "you would have to be the most self-opinionated, arrogant, egotistical, chauvenistic, loser prick I have ever met." And as her taxi drove off, she cried out:
"So long honey!"
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