phoabetonkin: Nick loved a girl I was pretending to be. “Cool girl.” Men always use that, don’t they
phoabetonkin: Nick loved a girl I was pretending to be. “Cool girl.” Men always use that, don’t they, as their defining compliment? She’s a Cool Girl. Cool Girl is hot, Cool Girl is game, Cool Girl is fun, Cool Girl never gets angry at her man, she only smiles in a chagrin, loving manner, and then presents her mouth for fucking. She likes what he likes, so evidently he’s a vinyl hipster who loves fetish manga. If he loves Girls Gone Wild, she’s a mall babe who talks football and endures buffalo wings at Hooters. When I met Nick Dunne I knew he wanted Cool Girl, and for him, I’ll admit, I was willing to try. I wax stripped my pussy raw. I drank canned beer watching Adam Sandler movies. I ate cold pizza and remained a size 2. I blew him, semi-regularly. I lived in the moment. I was fucking game. I can’t say I didn’t enjoy some of it. Nick teased out of me things I didn’t know existed. A lightness. A humor. An ease. But I made him smarter, sharper. I inspired him to rise to my level. I forged the man of my dreams. We were happy pretending to be other people. We were the happiest couple we knew; and what’s the point of being together if you’re not the happiest? -- source link