The Worst Girlfriend Ever

I feel like sharing a story. Either that or my meds are kicking into overdrive. One or the other, but since I'm largely vertical this afternoon, you get a story. One sadly based on a true occurrence. Actually, all of this is totally true. Unfortunately.

When I was a wee lad in my first year of law school, my college girlfriend did one of the nicest things imaginable and dumped me three days in. Actually, it had been coming for some time, we both knew it, and while neither of us were overjoyed about it, we stayed friends. Well, at least until she found out about those rumors I was spreading about how she liked it in the ass. OK, that part isn't true. I would never do that. Or at least get caught at it.

There I was in law school with no steady girl. Bummer right? Well, it could have been worse. And soon it would be.

One night I head out with a friend who works for one of the larger companies in our city. I can't remember what we did that night, but it involved drinking. Naturally, after this we needed nourishment. Or at least bread to soak up the booze. So we headed to a now closed sub shop, (closed because I burned it down later to destroy the evidence, but that's an entirely separate story and I'm taking the 5th on that one anyway. I don't know nuthin' copper). In there we meet this cute blonde girl in a tight shirt, we get to talking and it turns out her mother is my friend's secretary. So I wind up getting her number. And unfortunately, after clearing it with my friend, I decide to use it.

Now you may ask why I cleared it with my friend, who had no interest in this girl. Well, I thought it might be awkward working with the mother of a girl that one of his good friends was laying the wood to on a regular basis and I wanted to be sure he was OK with that. He had no problem. Unfortunately, at that time I didn't know that by the second date I would want to literally be laying wood upside this girl's head, rather than employing the phrase as the clever and witty euphemism for fucking her that you just read. And I wouldn't know until about that same time that rather than use the phrase "fucking" as a crude yet somewhat appropriate term for having sexual intercourse with her would be replaced by an intense desire to "fuck" her by kicking her out of the car, possibly while still driving it, and leave her on some deserted stretch of West Texas highway, possibly near a house full of leather-wearing, chainsaw wielding-dementoids.

So what went wrong? First date, nothing. Drinks, bar, video, (remember videos?), oral sex that porn stars aren't as adept at. Let me put it this way. This girl was an awful person and I regret ever going out with her, but when I'm asked, (as I frequently am, often by complete strangers), "Limpy99, in your well-celebrated career as a swordsman, (that's another euphemism, implying that I have a well-known career as someone skilled at bedding many women, and should be understood to be little more than a pathetic lie), who have you found to be the best at oral sex?" I have to put this girl at the top of the list. Unfortunately without a bullet, as she never seemed to be around when I was cleaning my gun. "Oops, sorry"

Anyway, second date rolls around and she doesn't show up. At all. Apparently she called four hours later, but I was long gone then. My mother took the call and thought that she was drunk at the time. To which I clverly replied "Well, she was when I met her and she was when we went out, so that wouldn't surprise me" Mom just shook her head, something she did a lot in those days.

Who's bored?

Anyway, we try to set up another second date, and this time she comes to my place, which was my parents house. When she comes in, my parents dog, the sweetest golden retreiver ever, (except Brizzy! whew!), bares her teeth, growls at her, and stand behind my legs snarling at her. Great, I think to myself, I'm dating Satan. Unfortunately, I thought that OUT LOUD, and soon discovered that Satan didn't have a sense of humor. Anyway, I gave the dog a biscuit and some holy water and off we went. We got to the bar and I got Satan some vodka and she cheered up. Which she usually did around vodka.

Anyway, the conversation turned, and don't ask me how, to black people. Again, I have no idea how this came up, although I suspect that my lovely young companion got it there by saying her father was an FBI agent, (and wasn't I thrilled to hear that!), and because of that she didn't like black men, but she thought black babies were cute and she would want one, except she'd have to have sex with a black guy and she just couldn't do that. And what did I think of that? she asked.

Now, here's my dilemma. She's hot. She gives great head, I mean off the charts great, and she's drunk, so she's going to do at least that that night, (at least she will if she doesn't want me to drop her off in the "wrong" section of town), but she wants my opinion on what is quite possibly the stupidest thing I've ever heard. And I'm a normal guy with normal desires. So naturally I say "what are you; in the Hitler Youth? That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard." She looks at me stunned, then laughs and says she was kidding. I somehow doubted it, but for the reasons noted above, I ignored that feeling and finished the night.

So she goes home, and I decide I've had enough and that I won't be calling her. She, however, decided she would call me. A lot. Over the next couple of weeks we did get together a couple of times, one of which was at our mutual friends house for New Year's Eve. During this party she started a fight with me about where people were going in life and why didn't I want to be an attorney who made $90,000 a year to start and work 90 hours a week to get it. I explained I'd like to live past 35, and that I though those people were idiots. She said she wanted to be with those types of people because they were succesful, and I suggested several places she could find them. Then I said "Look Christine..."

Now I haven't mentioned this girl's name before in this story and well you may be wondering why I choose to do so now. And here's the answer: I haven't. Christine was my ex, and this little whore knew it. Unbelievably, (and this reflects badly on me was well), we spent the night together anyway. I even paid for breakfast the next morning. I'm big like that. I call out the wrong name you get free eggs. It's a bargain. Really, what's in a name?

So things stagger along in this fashion for another few weeks. Date, drinks, racist/facist/greedy statement, fight, sex, leave after breakfast, inevitable phone call a few days later.

Finally, Super Bowl Sunday. I'm heading to a party two streets from her parents house. I don't tell her where I'm going because I don't want her around that night. Now, we had been supposed to go to dinner two nights earlier. She pulled about her sixth no-show. By this time I had adpoted a 30-minute and one phone call policy. If she didn't show or answer the phone, I'd do something else. I'm not sure she ever noticed. But I tell her I will call her after the Super Bowl and we'll maybe do something. Like burn a cross, I guess, I just wanted to get laid.

Game ends, I call. She doesn't want to go out. Why not? She has a black eye. Really? How did this happen? Another girl punched her in the face two nights earlier while she was in bar! Wow, says I, I guess you should have shown up for dinner huh? Why'd she hit you? I was talking to her boyfriend. Fascinating! Can I come over anyway? (At this point I was out the proverbial door but I wanted to see actual evidence that someone had punched her out) No, I don't want you to see my face like this.

And I didn't. In fact, I never saw it again. We never offically broke up, although since we never offically "went out" I guess that didn't matter, but I got another couple of messages from her and finally had to call her and tell her I didn't want to hear from her anymore and she should move on. She never asked why. She later told my friend she'd really dropped the ball with me, (after hearing I had a job with a huge firm, which I quit after about six months), to which he replied "sweetheart, you never had the ball" I bought him a drink.

She was dumb, she was racist, she was a drunk, she was unreliable, somewhat psychotic, and probably wasn't dating one person at a time. All in all, my worst choice ever for a girlfriend.

But, damn!, those blowjobs.