In the middle of the night I heard my phone ring. Why was it ringing? Who would call me? Who would call me now?

I instinctively moved away from my phone. It stopped ringing. It rang again. It stopped. Someone was insistent. Someone on my contacts list. I blearily glanced at my phone. Carrie, my girlfriend, had called. I didn’t know why my girlfriend would call now. It couldn’t be good.

I looked at the time. 5:00am. Ugh. This was my girlfriend’s normal wake-up time today. She had an office job two days a week. Today was Thursday morning, one of her office job days. She had to get up early and dress up for it. Her job paid well, especially compared to the other jobs available to a college student, so it was worth it.

She had left me a text message. The message said, « Do you like my office outfit? I want to wear something you’d like. » A picture was attached. Wait, she was waking me up for that? I liked to sleep in when I could. As a college student myself, I often could. She knew that. Why would she wake me up for this? This message was so unlike her.

I thought. Maybe this was her twisted way of making a peace offering. Once again I tried to understand her.

We’d been having relationship problems. As we’d spent more time together, I’d wanted to get more physically intimate. I wanted us to eventually make love. She’d made it clear she wanted to stay a virgin until she got married. She thought intimacy beyond kissing might lead to losing her virginity. So she’d said she didn’t want to do more than kissing until she got married. She also made it clear she wasn’t ready for marriage either.

She said all this with her words. When we were alone, she also made it clear with her body she was interested in more physical intimacy. She’d flirt and pull my hands towards her breasts or her inner thighs. Several times I’d made my move, touching her breasts or cunt through her clothes. She’d reacted to it enthusiastically at the time, while making it clear to go no further. She later blamed me for going beyond her claimed boundaries. She even picked arguments about it. I hated her mixed messages. She was such a cocktease. She blamed me for everything.

For a while I figured she’d eventually give in. Her mouth said one thing but her body said another. I like her. She’s hot, too. I thought I could be patient. If I was patient, we’d be making love soon. I wanted it. She wanted it. If we started making love, everything would be fine. So I thought.

She’d found a new way to make things worse. She’d recently made me promise to never go further than chaste kisses. At her insistence, I’d promised I wouldn’t go further until she specifically told me it was fine to do more. I kept my promise. As she’d asked. She now was angry at me for keeping my promise to her. Whenever she brazenly hinted she might be ready for more intimacy, I would ask her if she was ready to change her boundaries. She would always say no. She would look longingly at my body while she said no. I was taught no means no, so I would not go beyond her boundaries. She would then be angry with me.

As time continued she got increasingly and unreasonably mad at me for keeping the promise she’d asked me to make. She kept blaming me for her desire to go beyond her own self-proclaimed boundaries. What was wrong with me doing what she’d asked me to do? I thought she was being unreasonable and unfair to me. She kept getting mad at me without cause.

I expected we would no longer be a couple soon. I didn’t want to break up. Yet I couldn’t find a solution to the problems she kept creating. She had become, in her own twisted way, the crazy girlfriend. She made me angry. I had mostly abandoned hope. In my heart I had started to break up with her.

I broke out of my reverie. I re-read her text message. Her question was a strange way to make peace. Still, in some ways she was a strange girl. If this question might lead to breaking out of our impasse, I would be foolish to ignore it. I didn’t want to end the relationship. Yes, this was a strange request. It wasn’t an impossible request. I could respond. Maybe this would begin a better relationship. I could hope. At this point I’d try anything.

I looked at the picture. It was her, all right. I saw her pretty face with her brown eyes and cute little nose. Her brown hair flowed past her shoulders. She had a beautiful body, fit and feminine. Her bust was a D cup. I knew from past times her toned legs wouldn’t quit. Whenever she wore a miniskirt, men would change paths to follow her.

Today she was dressed in black slacks and a blouse buttoned up to her neck. Huh. It wasn’t terrible. I guess. I preferred more feminine and more revealing clothing. She was specifically asking for my opinion. I decided I should give my honest opinion. I replied, « How about a skirt or dress instead of pants? Show off those cute legs! Show some skin! »

I wondered if I’d gone too far. Was this another weird impossible test of hers? Had I failed it? Was this the final straw? I’d started to lose hope. Maybe giving her my honest opinion was a stupid mistake. Maybe the ending of our relationship was inevitable.

A few minutes later another picture showed up. Carrie was now wearing a dark blue dress with short sleeves. Its hemline was mid-thigh. Its squared neckline revealed much more skin than before, though her breasts were covered. It was more like a cocktail dress than work attire. One of her hands held matching heels. She looked sexy in it. She soon added, « How about this? »

I was relieved. It looks like I’d passed so far. I certainly preferred this outfit. I decided to give her my honest opinion. I replied, « Yes, I like that outfit much better! Please wear it today. If you want to know what I like, we could go clothes shopping some time. »

She replied with a smiley face.

I wondered why she had asked me. I knew she’d gone to some feminist meeting yesterday. I thought feminism today was a bunch of nonsense, but I’d learned to keep that opinion to myself. They all seemed to focus on blaming men for problems and anything they didn’t like. It seemed unlikely that a bunch of feminists would suggest that girls should ask their boyfriends for apparel approval.

Soon I received another text message from her:

« I’ll see you tonight. I’ll explain more then. »

I couldn’t wait. What did she mean by explaining more? Would she give me more sugar-coated half-truths? Would she only tease out hints? She confused me so often. I wanted clarification. I hoped she would be willing to mend our relationship. It was getting hard to hope. I feared my hopes would be dashed again. I hated her mind games. I expected our relationship would be fine if she always told me the whole truth.

I replied.

« I’m looking forward to it. Please tell me the whole truth. Don’t hold anything back. Tell me the truth, even if it’s awkward. I want to know what’s going on. »

She replied with another smiley face.

I went back to sleep in a confused state. What was this change all about? I wasn’t sure if I should hope or not.

I arrived at Carrie’s house at 7pm, as agreed. She opened the front door, still in her dark blue dress. She looked sexy in it. She kissed me, passionately. She hadn’t been greeting me this way recently. I liked the dress and the kiss.

Carrie lived with her parents, who were often out. She seemed be alone again tonight. She said, “Let’s go to the basement and talk.” We went downstairs and sat on a couch. We turned toward each other.

I began. “I liked it when you asked for my opinion. I was surprised you did. Why did you do it?”

Carrie handed me a small black booklet. I opened it. It contained a note from her to me.

“Phil, I felt strange late last night. I realized I haven’t been a good girlfriend for you. I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize until last night how was important it was to me to have you as my boyfriend.”

Really? She had realized she wasn’t being a good girlfriend? She usually blamed me for everything. She almost never said sorry or apologized to me. This was different. I kept reading.

“I decided I needed to create 21 rules for myself to be a better girlfriend for you. The next page is my list of rules for myself (so far). I knew you wanted more physical intimacy, so I made several rules about it. I hope you like them.”

She ended the note with her flourished signature, including a heart above the “i.” The following page had a heading and a list. My eyes bulged as I read the page:

Twenty-one Rules to Make me a Better Girlfriend

1. I will try to please him by what I say and do.

2. I will do my best to only wear what he approves of.

3. I will let him touch and caress my breasts through my clothes.

4. I will let him take off my top.

5. I will let him touch and caress my breasts through my bra.

6. I will let him take off my bra.

7. I will let him touch and caress my bare breasts.

8. I will let him touch and caress my pussy through my clothes.

9. I will let him take off or lift my lower clothes.

10. I will let him touch and caress my pussy though my panties.

11. I will let him take off my panties.

12. I will let him touch and caress my bare pussy.

13. I will tell him the whole truth when he asks and never lie.

The list ended. There was plenty of space in the book to add more. I wasn’t expecting a list at all. A list like this was inexplicable. This was a huge change from “no more than a chaste kiss.” I now understood this morning’s call. She needed my approval for the clothes she wore.

I looked up. “Did you add that last rule after we talked? I remember saying something about telling me the whole truth.”

Carrie turned red. “Yes. I feel it’s important for me to make rules for myself. They need to be rules that will make our relationship better. The rules must make you happier with me. The rules must change something significant. I don’t want the rules to change my behavior too much, though. Part of me doesn’t want to make rules for myself at all. I know that doesn’t make sense. I’m also confused about it.”

I nodded, more to encourage her to keep talking. I was confused as well. To be fair, I was often confused by her. This seemed different. This was a new kind of confusion. She continued.

“Anyway, I thought your suggestion made sense. The one about telling you the whole truth when you asked, and not lying. So I added it.”

Carrie tried to make a stern face. “Don’t get the wrong idea, mister. I don’t have to agree to whatever rule you come up with. I decide if I add a rule. I’m doing this because I want our relationship to be better.”

I decided she was telling the truth, as she understood it. This was strange and unlike her. She had never suggested doing anything like this. I hadn’t heard of women doing this. Why would she do this after a feminist meeting? I couldn’t imagine feminists encouraging this. They were about blaming men, not about pleasing men. Maybe I could figure out more later. I wasn’t going to look this gift horse in the mouth today.

I perused the list. Many of the rules were about progressively giving me more access to her body. I wanted that access, but it was odd. She could have done that with one rule. Why so many rules? What was special about the number 21? Maybe adding many rules, when one rule would do, was her way to reach her total count quickly. The list’s order did suggest that rules had to be incremental. I noticed there was nothing about giving up her virginity to me. She was probably trying to keep her virginity if possible. I wanted her to give her virginity and her body to me. If the rules would make it possible, I suspected I would have to do it in stages.

I asked, “I asked you to stop hiding information and you added that to this list of rules. What made you decide to turn it into a rule?”

Carrie blushed. “Well, I do want to make you happy. You’re my boyfriend after all. I agree that lying is bad. So when you asked me to tell you things and not lie, I felt I needed to add it as a rule. It’s been hard to think of rules I want to add and I’m willing to add. I struggled with myself about the rules here.”

I smirked. Carrie was an independent girl. This list of rules seemed to control her. It also sounded like she would be more likely to add a rule if I specifically asked her to do it. I would need to make the rule seem reasonable given her current state.

This could be a fun game. Especially with her body as the prize.