W
WideOpenPhoto
Guest
Dear Connie,
I know the counselor said we shouldn't contact each other during our
cooling off period, but I couldn't wait anymore.
The day you left, I swore I'd never talk to you again. But that was just
the wounded little boy in me talking. Still, I never wanted to be the
first one to make contact. In my fantasies, it was always you who would
come crawling back to me. I guess my pride needed that. But now I see
that my pride's cost me a lot of things.
I'm tired of pretending I don't miss you. I don't care about looking bad
anymore. I don't care who makes the first move as long as one of us
does. Maybe it's time we let our hearts speak as loudly as our hurt. And
this is what my heart says: There's no one like you, Connie. I look for
you in the eyes of every woman I see, but they're not you.
They're not even close.
Two weeks ago, I met this girl at Flamingos and brought her home with
me. I don't say this to hurt you, but just to illustrate the depth of my
desperation. She was young, maybe 19, with one of those perfect bodies
that only youth and maybe a childhood spent ice skating can give you. I
mean, just a perfect body. Breasts like you wouldn't believe and a butt
that just wouldn't quit. Every man's dream, right? But as I sat on the
couch fondling her, I thought, look at the stuff we've
made important in our lives. It's all so superficial. What does a
perfect body mean? Does it make her better in bed? Well, in this case,
yes, but you see what I'm getting at. Does it make her a better person?
Does she have a better heart than my attractive Connie? I
doubt it. And I'd never really thought of that before. I don't know,
maybe I'm just growing up a little.
Later, I found myself thinking, Why do I feel so drained and empty? It wasn't
just her flawless technique or her slutty, shameless hunger, but
something else. Some nagging feeling of loss. Why did it feel so
incomplete? And then it hit me. It didn't feel the same because you
weren't there. Do you know what I mean? Nothing feels the same
without you. Jesus, Connie, I'm just going crazy without you. And
everything I do just reminds me of you.
Do you remember Carol, that single mom we met at the Holiday Inn lounge
last year? Well, she dropped by last week with a pan of lasagna. She
said she figured I wasn't eating right without a woman around. I didn't
know what she meant till later, but that's not the real story.
Anyway, we had a few glasses of wine and the next thing you know, we're
going at it in our old bedroom. And this tart's a total monster in the
sack. She's giving me everything, you know, like a real woman does when
she's not hung up about her weight or her career and whether the kids
can hear us. And all of a sudden, she spots that tilting mirror on your
grandmother's old vanity. So she puts it on the floor and we straddle
it, right, so we can watch ourselves. And it's totally hot, but it makes
me sad, too. Cause I can't help thinking, Why didn't Connie ever put the
mirror on the floor? We've had this old vanity for what, 14 years, and
we never used it as a toy.
Saturday, your sister drops by with my copy of the restraining order. I
mean, Mary's just a kid and all, but she's got a pretty good head on her
shoulders and she's been a real friend to me during this painful time.
She's given me lots of good advice about you and about women in general.
She's pulling for us to get back together, Connie, she really is.
So we're in a hot bubble bath and talking about happier times.
Here's this teenage girl with the same DNA as you and all
I can do is think of how much she looked like you when you were 18. And
that just about makes me cry. And then it turns out Mary's really into
the whole anal thing, that gets me to thinking about how many times I
pressured you about trying it and how that probably fueled some of the
bitterness between us. But do you see how even then, when I'm
inside your baby sister's cinnamon ring, all I can do is think of you?
It's true, Connie. In your heart you must know it. Don't you think we
could start over? Just wipe out all the grievances away and start fresh?
I think we can.
If you feel the same please, please, please let me know. Oh, and can
you let me know where the remote is.
Love, Dan.
I know the counselor said we shouldn't contact each other during our
cooling off period, but I couldn't wait anymore.
The day you left, I swore I'd never talk to you again. But that was just
the wounded little boy in me talking. Still, I never wanted to be the
first one to make contact. In my fantasies, it was always you who would
come crawling back to me. I guess my pride needed that. But now I see
that my pride's cost me a lot of things.
I'm tired of pretending I don't miss you. I don't care about looking bad
anymore. I don't care who makes the first move as long as one of us
does. Maybe it's time we let our hearts speak as loudly as our hurt. And
this is what my heart says: There's no one like you, Connie. I look for
you in the eyes of every woman I see, but they're not you.
They're not even close.
Two weeks ago, I met this girl at Flamingos and brought her home with
me. I don't say this to hurt you, but just to illustrate the depth of my
desperation. She was young, maybe 19, with one of those perfect bodies
that only youth and maybe a childhood spent ice skating can give you. I
mean, just a perfect body. Breasts like you wouldn't believe and a butt
that just wouldn't quit. Every man's dream, right? But as I sat on the
couch fondling her, I thought, look at the stuff we've
made important in our lives. It's all so superficial. What does a
perfect body mean? Does it make her better in bed? Well, in this case,
yes, but you see what I'm getting at. Does it make her a better person?
Does she have a better heart than my attractive Connie? I
doubt it. And I'd never really thought of that before. I don't know,
maybe I'm just growing up a little.
Later, I found myself thinking, Why do I feel so drained and empty? It wasn't
just her flawless technique or her slutty, shameless hunger, but
something else. Some nagging feeling of loss. Why did it feel so
incomplete? And then it hit me. It didn't feel the same because you
weren't there. Do you know what I mean? Nothing feels the same
without you. Jesus, Connie, I'm just going crazy without you. And
everything I do just reminds me of you.
Do you remember Carol, that single mom we met at the Holiday Inn lounge
last year? Well, she dropped by last week with a pan of lasagna. She
said she figured I wasn't eating right without a woman around. I didn't
know what she meant till later, but that's not the real story.
Anyway, we had a few glasses of wine and the next thing you know, we're
going at it in our old bedroom. And this tart's a total monster in the
sack. She's giving me everything, you know, like a real woman does when
she's not hung up about her weight or her career and whether the kids
can hear us. And all of a sudden, she spots that tilting mirror on your
grandmother's old vanity. So she puts it on the floor and we straddle
it, right, so we can watch ourselves. And it's totally hot, but it makes
me sad, too. Cause I can't help thinking, Why didn't Connie ever put the
mirror on the floor? We've had this old vanity for what, 14 years, and
we never used it as a toy.
Saturday, your sister drops by with my copy of the restraining order. I
mean, Mary's just a kid and all, but she's got a pretty good head on her
shoulders and she's been a real friend to me during this painful time.
She's given me lots of good advice about you and about women in general.
She's pulling for us to get back together, Connie, she really is.
So we're in a hot bubble bath and talking about happier times.
Here's this teenage girl with the same DNA as you and all
I can do is think of how much she looked like you when you were 18. And
that just about makes me cry. And then it turns out Mary's really into
the whole anal thing, that gets me to thinking about how many times I
pressured you about trying it and how that probably fueled some of the
bitterness between us. But do you see how even then, when I'm
inside your baby sister's cinnamon ring, all I can do is think of you?
It's true, Connie. In your heart you must know it. Don't you think we
could start over? Just wipe out all the grievances away and start fresh?
I think we can.
If you feel the same please, please, please let me know. Oh, and can
you let me know where the remote is.
Love, Dan.
:lol: 
