How to Date Me Pt. 02

Honey, we really need to talk about your selfishness.

Here I am, your girlfriend, a hot yoga instructor from Europe, 165 cm, 56 kg, fake D tits, fake nails, fake eyelashes... and I haven't been talking to you since yesterday evening.

I'm sure you will figure out soon why I'm mad at you. It's so obvious to me. If you can't figure it out soon, then I will decide that you are just too insensitive to be with me.

That you are guessing it so badly actually just angers me more. You can't be this clueless. No, it's not that stupid thing. Neither that, why would I even care about THAT? No, it's not that you haven't yet thrown away everything already that you got as gifts from your previous girlfriend. Although, that's a pretty shitty thing, actually. And you just THINK that I don't recognise ALL OF THOSE THINGS. I really do. I'm a woman, I know other women. They stand out in your apartment like a pink vibrator at church (and a loud one at that). I know that your best shirt is one of them. I know that it will be hard for you to burn it. But you are not really mine until you do, aren't you?

No, it's not that you didn't notice my new hair shade yesterday. Although that was a pretty shitty thing too, now that you mention it. How could you NOT see that I changed it? It's a completely different shade, for Christ's sake! It was ASH blonde before, and now it's HONEY blonde. Just google it, babe. You probably have seen it, you just were too distracted or ignorant to say something. What were you distracted by? Is it another woman? Do you want me to pack my things, leave you, and tell everyone that your dick is too small?

No, it's not about the restaurant you took me yesterday. That was almost okay. Maybe I would have liked it to be a bit more expensive: after all, I was wearing my red Chiara Boni La Petite Robe Zelma Side-Draped Mermaid Gown (google it, dear), which cost €900 for somebody. And then another €50 to fit it exactly onto my perfect, fake, and oversized boobs. It really accentuates my perfect silhouette. I look like a hot, fuckable, but stylish porn star in it. A porn star that I'm sure you don't deserve, and one that you're certainly not fucking until you truly, honestly, and disgracefully repent your unknown sin.

No, it's not how you got angry and passive-aggressive after I flirted with our suave and debonair waiter. I was already doing that out of spite for you. And also because he was cute. Did you see his expensive watch? I think I can see where that comes from. He must be pretty good at handling certain ladies. If it wasn't for you being there, I might have taken a ride on that carousel! I might still now that I think about it, I can go back there anytime.

With my girlfriends I could go back to that restaurant, let's say. Or, better, I could just go alone, pretending to be your widow. I would look totally hot in one of those almost-nothing veils, wouldn't I? Appearing as the dark, strong but still vulnerable, somewhat unsatisfied young woman. It's so tragic that I got widowed so early... You had so much earning potential in you still. I'm sure his strong, confident hands, trying to comfort me, the rich widow, would feel so good on my naked hips, as he's taking me from behind, slowly but firmly pushing his cock into my giving, wet, always cum-hungry little cunt... You know how tight I can be at first. Oh, he would enjoy it so much!

But enough of that happy fantasy, back to you, and how lame you were. Yes, lame. Yes, really! You can't believe it? Well, I can't believe it that you are so lame that you don't even KNOW that you were SO LAME?!?

You don't know what you did? How about something that you did NOT do? Oh, I'm helping out SO MUCH here, it's unbelievable.

You're asking if it was BEFORE or AFTER you've picked me up with your car? Are we really going to do this? At this rate, I could just say you what it was. But then you wouldn't learn from it, would you? You say you would? Well I know for sure that you wouldn't, and I'm always right. You men, you just don't learn at all, unless you are in a corner mentally, broken and desperate.

But just so you know, it was just BEFORE you picked me up for dinner. It was actually something you DIDN'T MAKE HAPPEN WHEN you picked me up, you know?

You get only one more guess. If you miss, I'm leaving you.

(Leave your guess in the comment section, together with your first name! The first correct guesser (the ONLY one I wouldn't leave in the story... :) ) gets a honorary mention in the next story if you leave a name. If you leave a fetish of yours too in the comment, I'll try my slutty best to incorporate it...)