The Perfect Girlfriend

I just love my girlfriend Margaret. She’s perfect. She’s not very pretty. She’s not very exciting and she’s often very bad tempered; always shouting at me.

You may wonder why I love my girlfriend so much or why I think she’s so perfect if she is all these things that, to some people, may not seem so ideal. Well, I’ll tell you.

There was a time when I was quite fed up with my girlfriend but then, one day, I was sitting on the number 48 bus going to work and I’d just had a big argument with her, I can’t remember what over, something silly probably, but I was thinking I’d like to leave her when up popped this thing like a little hippopotamus, in a pink dress, with wings, straight out of nowhere.

The little flying hippopotamus sat down on my left shoulder and said, “Why are you so glum? I’m your Wishipotamus and I am here to grant you three wishes that will sort your life right out”.

And so I made three wishes with this wishipotamus thing. I wished that my girlfriend, Margaret could be pretty; pretty like a film star or a fashion model. I wished that she could be exciting and want to do all sorts of adventurous things and I wished she wouldn’t be bad tempered anymore
but as sweet natured as an angel.

And when I got home from work that day I was amazed to find that my girlfriend had changed completely, becoming all the things I had wished for; stunningly beautiful, vivacious and so sweet and softly spoken.

Unfortunately, when I got home I also discovered the handsome, exciting and charming man from next door cuddled up with her on the living room couch. She had dumped me and told me it was because I wasn’t attractive enough or exciting enough and that I was too bad tempered, always complaining and never happy.

Now I was even more miserable than before the wish hippo thing had granted me the three wishes.
In fact, I was so miserable that I was thinking of ending it all. I stood on the edge of a bridge, staring down into the waters and was thinking of hurling myself in when this creature popped up beside me, not a flying hippopotamus this time but a flying monkey.

“Why so glum?”, he said, “I’m your magic wish monkey and I am here to…”.

I didn’t let the monkey finish. I was having none of that. I grabbed hold of him and dangled him by his little wish monkey tail over the side of the bridge until he agreed to undo all the wishes that his little Wishipotamus friend had granted.

So now I have Margaret back again. She may not be pretty like a film star or very exciting and she may be bad tempered, infact awful, but I’m not so great either and at least she loves me for who I am and what more could you ask for in a girlfriend? Yes, I do think Margaret is just about perfect.