Back to baseline, but fate forces your hand

Before leaping into anything crazy, first, you erase the rule about pigtails - if Christina doesn't like it then you don't want to **** it on her (at least not that, not yet). It was just a test after all. You watch Christina's pigtails become undone. Her hair cascades back down behind her shoulders with her barely noticing. With a minute shake of the head, her hair straightens to just how it was before.

Christina's mood brightens accordingly, validating your choice.

With a big stupid smile on your face, you turn your attention back to the notebook, tapping the tip of your mechanical pencil against the lined pages. God, what you could do with this thing. What you've already done! Customizing every petite girl's hairstyle to your liking - stripping every barista across the nation topless - there's functionally no limit!

You review what you've written already.

OLD RULE: Everyone other than the current owner of the Rulebook (Nicolas) ignore the Rulebook and the act of writing in it unless the current holder directly draws their attention to

OLD RULE: If an adult woman is shorter than 5 ft 2 in, has breasts that are B-cup or smaller, and has a Body-Mass Index below 24, she is considered a petite woman

OLD RULE: It is incredibly hard for petite women to gain enough muscle or fat to lose their petite figure, and incredibly easy for them to lose enough of both to maintain it

You add the line Petite Girls, underlined, above the two rules you've already written for your favorite type of lady - according to the Rulebook, anything you write beneath it should automatically apply to the group without having to specific, the same way you changed the cafe's dress code.

What you have so far is a good start but -

"So, you think you'll be free when I get off work?" asks your cute girlfriend, tapping your wrist to get your attention - not that she ever struggled to do that.

You look up at once. "I'm always free for you. One of the benefits of setting my own schedule," you say, smiling and, for a second, forgetting the rulebook entirely. "Want to go to my apartment or yours?"

Christina sighs and runs her thumb over your wrist, driving you wild - she has no idea how attractive you truly find her, if she did, you might scare her off. "Listen Nicolas, you've been applying to companies for months. And I know it's important you build your career. I support you a million percent. I really do," she says.

"You know I'm doing it for you, baby," you say with concern, cupping her cheek. " All I want is to take care of you."

Christina kisses your palm and eases out of your hand. "It's been weeks since we went out and did something fun together. Like a real date. We're always hanging out on my couch or yours - what do you say that we take a break from the job hunting for a night and go do something?"

You take a sip of your cold coffee to keep your expression even.

Despite her slow-roller status as far as your sexual relationship goes, Christina is beautiful and supportive and awesome - you wouldn't ever consider finding someone else. Yet, nobody's perfect. And Christina... well, you'll put it like this. Her fashionista style isn't just skin deep. Christina's ideal date is a visit to an outlet mall.

Please understand. If you got to watch your lovely petite girlfriend try on little outfits for you, or get a sneak peak at her future outfits, it'd easily be worth it, ten times over. But no. Christina loves window shopping. The girl simply enjoys browsing through outfits and trendy pieces of clothing for hours on end, without so much as taking anything off the rack.

Once you were trapped a mall with her for 10 hours straight and the only thing you walked out with was an empty mid-sized Jamba Juice cup.

Worse, the last real date you shared together, you went out a picnic hike followed by a drive-through movie and a long romantic night of stargazing, so now it's Christina's turn to pick the activity.

"I heard that there's a Macy's in the middle of pulling a huge inventory refresh," says Christina, excitement in her eyes. "It's only an hour away too."

"Oh wow, really?" you say evenly. Didn't Amazon bankrupt Macy's already? Or was that Sears?

Christina smiles and gathers her hair over her shoulder, stroking it rapidly. "I'd love to check it out with you. I wanted to go by myself yesterday, but it felt wrong leaving you out when you were at home working so hard..."

Oh god. Christina could've gotten this out of her system without you, but held back on your account? If you tried coming up with an excuse now, you'd be a shitty boyfriend. Strong emotions of love and horror tumble confusingly within you.

"Does that sound fun to you?" asks Christina, practically glowing.

"That sounds..." If you say it sounds fun, you'd be lying. You'd sooner visit the DMV to renew your license. But if you say it doesn't sound fun, you'd be providing scientific proof that you had no soul.

Christina's eyes deep brown eyes somehow grow larger and prettier - the way her eyelashes flutter give you heart palpitations.

Under your fingers, you feel the paper of the Rulebook. The third option. The nuclear option.

She frowns at your continued silence. "Nicolas?"

You have ****. You'll have to go far further than pigtails with this one. Frantically, you scribble in book.