My best friend knows everything. She knows all of your vitals – from the size of your bank account to the size of your other, er, holdings – and she knows how both compare with those of every other man I’ve dated.
Ask her about me or discuss our relationship at your peril. She will tell me. Even if she promises not to. This is not always a bad thing (like if you happen to be telling her how much you love me). But, in general, remember that she is my confidante first and yours never.
I’ll never tell you exactly how many men I’ve slept with. No matter how sincere I appeared when I answered your question.
I fantasised about being with you at least a dozen times before we actually first got naked.
I still think about my ex-boyfriends and compare them to you. Mostly you win. Sometimes not.
I have discovered your porn stash and your frequently visited dirty websites and think the things that turn you on are hilarious.
You’ve made me cry more times than you’ll ever know.
I want you to talk dirty.
I obsess about when you’re going to call me again. The period of time between our first date and your “I had a great time the other night. Would you like to go out again this weekend?” always seems stretched into slow motion. So don’t worry about appearing eager. Call.
At the beginning of our relationship, I save all of your voicemails and listen to them repeatedly.
I’m constantly testing you. I observe, analyse and judge every action, word, gesture, e-mail and facial expression. When I ask you if you want to have a threesome, I don’t mean it. If you want me to speak to you again, let alone sleep with you after this conversation, the answer should always be: “Why would I want to sleep with another woman when I have you?”.
I check out your bum every time you leave the room.
I need constant indications that you want me around. That’s why it’s better, for example, to say, “I want you to come away with me for the weekend. Could you come with me?” than to ask, “What are you up to this weekend?”.
I want you to take control in bed. Yes, I have a successful career, I’m financially independent, I live on my own and I don’t need a man to make me happy (in theory). But I still want you to pick me up, carry me into the bedroom and take without asking.
Twenty secrets every woman keeps
Even though I may complain that I don’t see you enough (or that you work too hard), I find nothing sexier than watching you put on a suit in the morning and rush off to work.
I start fights with you because I’m feeling ignored. Don’t retreat into your cave; just give me what I want: some attention. And never tell me to “calm down”, unless you want to guarantee that I absolutely won’t.
Even if I insist on paying or splitting the bill on our first date, I’ll think you’re cheap if you let me.
I may find your best friend repulsive, but I’ve fantasised about sleeping with him. Not because I want him, but because I want a piece of a bloke who is so close to you.
If I’m going to break up with you, all of my friends know long before you do. I’ve been talking about it for two weeks.
When we do break up, I’ll put photographs of you and mementos of our relationship in a shoe box and store it in my closet. Just in case I get nostalgic. Just in case you come back.