There are many reasons why I have a great girlfriend. This is just one of them.
About three weeks ago I was lying in bed with Kates, indulging in some pillow talk. Well, me being an insomniac, I was indulging in pillow talk, she was just grunting into her pillow.
After uttering some inane question that was playing on my mind at the time, probably something along the lines of: When spiders die, can they come back as ghosts, she realised that I wasn’t going to allow her to drift off to sleep and begrudgingly joined in with my chattering.
The conversation freewheeled its way round various topics, as a conversation often does, when somehow we ended up on a topic that I hadn’t planned, or wished, to stumble into.
The topic being what type of woman I go for?
Being a man, I immediately knew that I was on dangerous territory. I suddenly had my head talking to my heart like a gruff army sergeant talking a wet behind the ears soldier through a minefield: Careful son, one false step and this could blow up in your face, sending your ass to Kansas.
“I bet I know your ideal type of woman,“ she told me.
“Oh, is that the time? It’s late, we really should be getting some sleep,” I replied, rolling over and snoring loudly.
“I bet I do,” she carried on, shaking me roughly by the shoulder. “I bet I can picture your exact perfect woman.”
I wasn’t going to win this one.
“If you want to picture my perfect woman, then all you have to do is take a look in the mirror baby,” I said, taking my hand and stroking it down her cheek.
“You’re such a twat,” she replied, swatting my hand away like an annoying fly.
I sighed. “OK, well, whatever you are going to say, you’re wrong. And whatever happens, it’s not my fault. Remember that. Its. Not. My. Fault.”
“I’m going to prove it to you. Check your work email tomorrow. I’m going to send you a picture of what I think is your type of woman.”
“OK. Now can we just snuggle?”
Just as I felt her drifting off to sleep, I whispered in her ear, “Can you make sure she has really big boobies?”
Kate has very sharp elbows.
I totally forgot about our conversation the next day, but when I went to log on to my work email, I saw her name nestled amongst the rest.
“Bugger,” I muttered to myself. This was only going to end in one way. Me in the wrong. I didn’t know how, or why, but I knew it was going to be.
I opened up the email and was confronted by the picture of what Kate thought was my perfect woman. Brunette. Dark skin. Tall and leggy. Basically the complete opposite of Kates.
“Shit,” I mumbled into my hand. “This could be bad.”
Later on that night I got my phone call from her. The one I was expecting.
“So was I right? Brunette? Leggy? Dark skin? Totally not like me at all?”
“I....er..I....I love you? Is that the right answer? That’s normally the right answer, right? I love you?”
“Bye!” she replied, and the receiver went clunk as she hung up.
And she was basically right. My “type”, if you want to give it a label, is nothing like what she looks like.
Now let me get one thing straight, my girlfriend is gorgeous. Not in a kind of “well, she’s my girlfriend so I have to say it” kinda way, but actually gorgeous. Whenever anyone sees me with her, or sees a photo, I normally get the same reactions.
Wow, how did you get her?
What’s she doing with you?
Where do you get your rohypnol from?
And I like that. It makes me feel special. But if I’m honest, Kates is nothing like what I am normally attracted to. I do like brunettes, and she is blonde. I do like dark skin, and she is very fair. But I do fancy the pants off her. I can’t help it, I just do. Imagine a blonde with the prettiest face going and the body of Joan out of Mad Men. Without sounding like a sexist pig, what man wouldn’t like that, regardless of whatever constraints you place upon yourself on what “type” of person you allegedly find attractive?
And it’s not just looks either, it’s the whole package. She makes me laugh, like, really laugh. And that’s a very hard thing to do. She puts up with me as well, which is also a very hard thing to do. Basically she ticks all the boxes that I need, and all without dark skin and brunette hair.
But, naturally, it’s very hard to convince someone that you like them if they are the complete opposite of what you apparently like. So she is always thinking about this mysterious brunette who is just lurking in the wings, just waiting to pounce. I have tried to use the terminology of the fact that I like pepperoni pizza, but if I was told I could only have cheese and tomato for the rest of my life, I would love that, because I like cheese and tomato as well.
It was only as she sat there opened mouthed did I realise that I had just compared her to doughy, cheesy pizza, and was now officially the worst boyfriend in the world.
I am amazing with words, but only if I keep them in my head. If I let them loose on the world then they mutate into evil little shit bastards whose sole purpose is to get me into bother.
I was having a conversation with a work colleague about this exact same topic, and she was in the same position as me. Her boyfriend is totally the opposite of what she goes for, but she loves him more than anything. And that’s where I find myself today. In love with someone who transcends looks and ideals and goes into something that is a lot deeper.
Plus with really big boobies.
It’s a challenge convincing my other half that she is the one for me.
I like challenges.
But if there is one good thing to have come out of this situation, it’s that I now get, freshly delivered to my work inbox every morning, my own babe of the day.
Every day I get a fresh picture, with an accompanying funny message, which always makes me smile. I have had a whole range of smoking hot babes delivered to me and it’s the perfect way to start your morning.
So now I throw requests in. The night before I will ask for a girl next door type, or a sexy sports person, and I will get one delivered to me. At this moment we are now going around the world, Thursday will be a sexy oriental, Friday a hot Indian. But I’m quite excited for tomorrow. As it’s my birthday, I am getting a birthday surprise. I don’t know what it will be. I have a feeling it will be Gemma Arterton, as she is my type, and I have asked for her.
I’m hoping I will get a surprise and it will be one of Kates.