Here’s the thing: I love my girlfriend so much. Mostly because she’s a real girl and she agreed to go out with me, but also because she wants to hold my hand and doesn’t gag when I kiss her.
I guess I talk about her often. Maybe too often. At first I didn’t even realize that all I talked about was her, her hair and how her hair smells, but then it happened. A friend of mine — let’s call him ‘Bill the Bitch’ — joked that she wasn’t real during lunch at Closed Kitchen. He did it in front of all of our friends and the rats who work there.
Can you imagine the shock? The heartbreak? The fear that now they’d all think she’s not real?
So, I did what any logical person would do. I kept on talking about her. I told them stories about her favourite foods, pet peeves and even her busy schedule. Nothing I said — and I mean absolutely nothing — convinced them that she was real.
I decided I had to pull out the big guns. I started talking about our dates, our private conversations, our sex life (whatever the fuck that means). But still, my friends kept saying that Nora (my very real girlfriend) was fake, imaginary and make-believe. Assholes.
I needed to take action, so I decided to hire a model (as pictured). You may be asking, “Why would you need to hire a model to pretend to be your real, live girlfriend?” Well, Nora lives in a different school (University of Mont-Real), so our schedules don’t line up.
This model, let me tell you, is the prettiest chick you’ll ever find.
At first, it was strictly business — convince my friends that I am capable of having a girlfriend (which I am! She is real!) and make sure that no one gets hurt. But I fell hard for my partner-in-crime; the model.
To be honest, my definitely-existant girlfriend was great, but after meeting the model, it was like I found true love. I found a girlfriend along the way, so it’s basically like I had one all along. I asked her out and she agreed to hold my hand down Main Mall. It was pure bliss.
Apart from the fact that she asked me to pay her to be my girlfriend (in flex dollars, of course), we were a real couple. She met all my friends and family, complimented me when we were with them and got annoyed whenever I called her sweetheart. Women, right?
After some time, she left me for a man who could pay her real cash. That was just something I couldn’t do. I tried asking my parents for the money but they didn’t really like that idea. I don’t know why I’m not invited back home for reading break. True love is priceless, but my dad disagrees.
So, I had to do the unbearable. Confess. I told my friends that while my original girlfriend Nora was totally real, the model I left that existent woman for had fallen in love with Bill.
They told everyone that my relationship with the model was fake too. I hate Bill. That bitch. `
Editor’s Note: The model’s name has been withheld to protect their privacy. They don’t want people knowing that they ‘dated’ this dumbass.
Girlbossmopolitan is The Ubyssey's annual spoof issue. While nothing in here is factual, it is all slaytastic. To read more Girlbossmopolitan, click here!