Bridget and Blockhead

I’m stealing a story. Yes. Stealing. Most of my friends do realise that their stories are fair game for my blog. What? Is it my fault that I said it once, years ago, and they’ve forgotten? Pfft. Get over it people.

So. The story.

I had lunch with two girlfriends yesterday and one of them – we shall call her Bridget – told us a tale that I’m sure all women everywhere would nod their heads sagely to in a solemn indication of their own experience. Bridget had been introduced to a worldly and handsome man. No, this isn’t a Jane Austin novel. We shall call him Blockhead. See?

So, Bridget and Blockhead are introduced and they have a nice chat for about ten minutes. In this time Bridget has ascertained that Blockhead is gregarious, rich and handsome, not as smart as she is, but generally a fairly good guy. Blockhead has worked out that Bridget has nice boobies and he would like to squeeze them.

Bridget, feeling amorous after several glasses of champagne, decides to go back to Blockhead’s place. Blockhead is ecstatic that he’s about to squeeze her boobies. Bridget and Blockhead get it on. Bridget isn’t horrified, which, as we know girls, is a wonderful first step. Blockhead actually knew what he was doing. Bridget, being a woman of the world, in charge of her own company, her own children already making their way in the world, doesn’t stay the night.

Bridget and Blockhead meet a few times out socially. Bridget and Blockhead also bone each other a few more times. It’s all good. Bridget has no need nor desire for a relationship and is happy with her booty calls. Blockhead tells her he doesn’t want a relationship and seems unbalanced by her pleasure about this. He needs to sit down.

Sometime later…

Blockhead sends Bridget a text in the middle of a meeting. He must see her. Bridget, who is simultaneously dealing with millions of dollars, saving the world, organising her next pilates class, finalising a dinner party for the Governor General and reading bedtime stories to orphans, is annoyed.

Bridget meets up with Blockhead in a fine dining restaurant. She cradles his hand, concerned, ready to tell him that cancer isn’t a death sentence, that his mother will be fine, that brankruptcy is temporary, when Blockhead stares into her eyes (after a quick glance down at her boobies) and says, “Bridget, I’ve met someone, I’m falling in love, I’m so sorry, I hope you’ll be okay.”

Bridget tries her upmost not to guffaw uncontrollably in Blockhead’s earnest face. The urge to explain the definition of booty call to him is high. He’s waiting. Earnestly. For her reply. All Bridget can think about it how badly his nose-hairs need trimming. But she looks forgivingly into Blockhead’s tortured face and assures him she’ll be fine.

“Oh, that’s a relief,” sighs Blockhead. “Of course, you know Bridge, she’s not as good in bed as you are…”



Filed under Humour, Love, Sex, Women/Feminist, Writing

17 responses to “Bridget and Blockhead

  1. c

    Any story with boobies is bound to be good. πŸ™‚

    i loved your title. i wish Bridget would’ve told Blockhead what was what still, i admire her restraint.


  2. An aptly named piece, me thinks.


  3. you mean to tell me he didn’t ask, “Can we still be friends?” or “Maybe we could join a bowling team or something.”
    Yeah, Blockhead.
    I’d be inclined to call him “cockface” but that’s just not nice not knowing the guy.


  4. “Blockhead has worked out that Bridget has nice boobies and he would like to squeeze them.”, That sums it up!


  5. Are we such obvious, slow and heavy creatures? Wonderful short story telling.


  6. Funny, how two people involved in the same relationship can have such different views of the reality of it.


  7. there is so much i would say here about how roles have changed, perspectives shifted and just how much this entire story scares me, but alas, i will say no more and hope to keep my blockheadedness under wraps a bit longer.

    (best Hammy voice) I like the boobies.


  8. maddyejames

    Men and boobies. It should be so simple, but they make it so complicated.

    And I really want a set of those fuzzy boobies for my truck rearview.


  9. Don’t you mean his real name is fuckhead? What a dunce. Men know it’s all about them, all the time, eh? She should have taken out her snippers and tended to his nose hair whilst he was breaking it to her gently. πŸ˜‰


  10. There is absolutely no excuse for poor manscaping. It is an indictment against all of mankind. Fucktard should be shot.


  11. C, my friend ‘Bridget’ is one classy lady πŸ™‚
    Ha ha Michael πŸ˜‰
    Chris, well yeah, he’s a man afterall!
    Paul, alas, yes, many of them… not all of course, but many…
    Mark, that’s very true and makes me think of an excellent post you wrote about that recently.
    Theo, you gorgeous thing, I can’t imagine you’d have any of this blockheadedness! (PS I think we all like boobies πŸ™‚ )
    Maddy, the furry boobies are awesome aren’t they?!
    WC, I can just see her doing that – and yes – she should have!
    Evyl… I’m lost for words…!


  12. hierophant4582

    It’s crazy just how egocentric some people can be. It’s like they don’t live in the same world the rest of us do. But, hey, it makes for good stories.


  13. venus00

    ahhhh blockheads I remember them well. It’s somehow comforting to know the world hasn’t changed much since I was single…


  14. Hiero, it’s sad but true, these people are a writer’s fodder! πŸ˜‰

    Venus, I’m glad you find some comfort in that, I must tell my friend!


  15. Doktor Holocaust

    I think Blockhead was confused to finally meet a woman who, like himself at the time, just wanted sex and occasional company. to some men, a woman who is actually in agreement with them on such issues is a sign of the End Times, or that perhaps they may be getting too old for such pursuits, which may be why Blockhead needed to sit down for a bit.


  16. Andrew Budzinski

    Well done, a very cool story..


  17. Thanks Andy, it’s so lovely to see you here my old friend πŸ™‚


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