To the Cloud

Cloud_Girlfriend Considering us fishermen and our lack of social graces, even computer nerds have better luck with the fair sex than us.

Six or seven marriages later, you’re handing over everything that wasn’t spent on backing and fly reels, and asking your buddies to help move your fly tying desk, as it’s perched prominently on the lawn, along with your comic book collection.

The advent of social media makes the missus all that more visible, and long distance friends will eventually want corroboration of them tales of daring do …

Consider the Perfect Girlfriend, synonymous with the Perfect Crime. You make her, refine her until she’s everyone else’s dream fisherperson, and benefit from “I was there and seen it” for even the most egregious fishing fantasy.

She tweets, she facebooks, she’s lithe, witty and stunning … she’s your Cloud Girlfriend.

She knows what to say and when, since you control her every move, she knows how to make your buddies wives bland in the comparison, and she’ll never mention the skid mark after your bear encounter, never give up your secret fishing hole, nor correct your 14” estimate, to the 6” inches it really was …

Consider that embellishment is part of your base nature, and for believability’s sake – you may want to go light on the manacles and automatic weapons, the nun’s habit is already over the top.

8 thoughts on “To the Cloud”

  1. I can see one major drawback to this, and it makes my elbow twinge thinking about it. I’ll keep my warm, loving and supportive (if occasionally cranky) live woman (who by the way has her own waders, rods, reels and tackle) and continue to live the life of a sporting misanthrope, while laughing at the losers who only have a fantasy and a computer screen. And a sore…elbow.

  2. “nor correct your 14” estimate, to the 6” inches it really was …”

    Ummm…exactly WHAT are you referring to here?

  3. There are very few women so uniquely evolved to satisfy my brother’s physical and emotional requirements in a female companion as the Eskimo woman. They own waders, pack artillery, and hang fish on the drying rack set on the front lawn; no matter what their length.

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