Telling it like it is
What did she look like? I can't really remember. Rangy? Big? Black hair. Keen on cardigans. Not the ragged studenty ones with holes in though. Colour of eyes? Don't ask me.
She was just one of those women that you really wanted to be with, usually because she could think like you and even better, act like you and drink like you and talk like you. So she knew that even though you usually kept at least a rough count of these things, you'd sometimes forget her "status," as she liked to call it. Particularly after your fifth pint.
So it was always wonderful when she took your feelings into account. And after the said fifth pint, she wouldn't fuck about with pissy, lightweight comments like "It's not the right time of the month for me."