This is my ex.
I know right. Hot. She was my actual girlfriend for an actual period of time. It was official and she fully agreed with being known as my girlfriend. She even referred to me as her boyfriend. We did girlfriend and boyfriend stuff. Like talking to each other, and going for drinks together and eating together and watching movies together and shagging on each other.
She was not just someone from a chatroom or a photo I had googled, she was my actual girlfriend. She even had my number in her phone. She told her mum about me – this was serious.
And I know what you’re thinking, either 1) [if you’re a girl] I shouldn’t be posting pictures of my ex on the internet, or 2) [the guys] can’t I post something a bit more saucy. It’s integral to the story that you see her, but not integral to see anything other than her face and an indication of her ample breasts.
Just to reiterate, as I have posted many stories about lame-assed attempts to get women on this blog – this one was my real girlfriend. Yes I had a girlfriend. And she wasn’t Eastern European.
She even had a hot name. Holly. And she was distantly related to Audrey Hepburn. She was also distantly half-Mongolian.
Anyway I’m totally not one to dwell on past conquests, so moving on. I had recently reached the “introducing Holly to my friends” stage. A dangerous phase in a relationship. Especially with friends like mine.
I introduced her to my gay colleague Rodney, and we went to a gay bar. Absolutely nothing to do with the fact I wanted to take her somewhere where I was safe from competition. Not at all. Not even slightly. In fact that’s something I definitely haven’t deliberately done with other girlfriends. It’s not even a standard policy of mine. Not at all.
Once I’d introduced her to all my gay friends, my hot female friends and my ugly male friends, I decided to take her into the bar at work one evening. Not that I had to prove to her I really had a job, but when she saw the way I dressed, after a while I think she started to wonder. She would also meet a girl I’d dated for a little while at work, who I still sat opposite. She was also really hot – I’d been on a good roll, stockpiling a solid run of two honeys to get me through many extensive droughts in the times to come.
Holly turned up in a beautiful white dress and thoroughly impressed everyone. There was a bit of “looking” going on between her and Jodie, but that’s just natural. They were sat next to each other and getting on and everyone was having a jolly good time. That is until Jodie completely accidentally inadvertently spilled a glass of red wine all over Holly. Specifically Holly’s white dress. Oh how Holly laughed; I’ve never seen someone laugh so much and yet simultaneously not look happy. It was as if she was about to go all half-Mongolian on Jodie’s ass.
Anyway the rest of the evening was fun, and I particularly enjoyed calling out to other colleagues in the bar to say hi, purely as a means of attracting attention to Holly so that they would ask me later who she was and so that I could say “yeah, she’s like my girlfriend and stuff, so… What’s that? The most perfect breasts you’ve ever seen? Really, I hadn’t noticed, me and her are just like soulmates. She could look like the back end of a Ford Transit and I would still love her. Obviously wouldn’t bring her to work though but…”
The following week I was arranging another night out with Holly and some friends from work, Rodney was organising it. He casually copied me in on a conversation with his friend Charlene saying she was going to come and she thought Holly was lovely when she met her last week. Nice. I thought I’d send that sentiment to Holly, so I clicked Forward and thought I’d first delete the gubbins at the bottom of the mail – e-mail signatures, environmental notice, security notice, etc. At that point I realised there was a lot more to this mail between Rodney and Charlene. What Rodney had done was copy me in at the last minute on quite a long e-mail chain between the two of them about going out with us. Right at the start of the thread Rodney had asked Charlene what she thought of Holly.
She said “Yeah I thought she was adorable. Bit hot to be going out with Alan though…”
I said “Oi” in red letters in a reply – thoroughly chastising her, Charlene called Rodney a stupid bastard, and we were all friends again.