We were introduced by one of my friend's girlfriend, I think as one of those 'Wouldn't it be nice if your friend and my friend were together?' scenarios that some girls can't get enough of. Anyway, I thought she was fun, we got drunk, we spent the night together, and then I let things get a little out of hand.
She wasn't my type, physically. But I guess I was going through a barren patch at the time and I was enjoying the attention a little too much.
When my friend reported that Jenny had been gushing about me to his girlfriend I knew I had to end it, but like the coward I am that just translated into not returning her phone calls. Unwise.
She found out where I was one night, turned up and in front of everyone, demanded to know why I was being such a prick. After calming her down I took her outside and told her straight that she wasn't the kind of girl I wanted to be with. Physically.
'I just prefer girls who are in shape. I'm sorry, but I like girls with muscles.'
She left without a word, and I thought that was the end of it.
Six months later, I receive a message from Jenny with a picture attached. A picture of her. She'd been working out. And there was a message:
'Thanks for getting me interested in the gym. I seem to be making fast progress. I'll keep you updated in the future so you can see what you could have had.'
Jesus!
And in the months that followed, more pictures. Each time she looked better, more muscular, more defined, and less dressed.
This is the most recent.
And the note that came with it told me how much she's enjoying her new body. How having such power over men makes her feel like a goddess. It's improved everything in her life. She's more confident at work, so she's succeeding there. Oh, and her love life has never been better. And it's all thanks to me.
Great. My pleasure.
Shit.
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