A letter to Connie

[cloud_monkey 0]

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 and breasts 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. Tits like you wouldn't believe and an ass that just wouldn't quit. Every man's dream, right? But as I sat on the couch being blown by this stunner, 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 moderately 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, after I'd tossed her about a half a pint of throat yogurt, 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 to watch. 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 banging away 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 sex toy."

Saturday, your sister drops by with my copy of the restraining order. I mean, Vicky'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 doing Jell-O shots 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 Vicky'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 thrusting 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 all the grievances away and start fresh? I think we can.

If you feel the same please, please, please let me know. Otherwise, can you let me know where the fucking remote is.

Love,
Dan.

[Casie 0]

I've seen this before, but it cracks me up every time.

~Porn Kitty
WARNING: Goldschlager causes extreme emotional outbursts!

[Michele 1]

(the response from Connie....)

Dear Dan.

You asked where the remote is.

Well, it's in the garden. It's under the rose bush I planted on our wedding day. The thorns shouldn't hurt too much. Besides, what's a little blood between partners?

You might find it wrapped in the porn I found in the closet...I mean, uh, the literature. There weren't any pictures so I figured you had no use for it, and I just put it there in the dirt along with the remote (besides, I'm not sure it was yours anyway - all about men on men and whatnot...). And the deck of cards that has the naked women on it? From that seminar in Vegas 4 years ago? Well, they're there, as well. Did you know that plastic smells funny when it's burned? I didn't. I do now.

Oh! Geeze, I forget so many things. I meant to tell you that the last time I washed your skidmarked jockey shorts they disintegrated. They do have a bad habit of doing that once the elastic is sprung. I know these were the same underwear you won the high school football game in, but it's been 20 years. I feel very bad that they were lost. But it's better than being pink, I suppose.

I do have fond memories of circling your waist with my arms, but I found my arms couldn't reach that far anymore. And I've always thought the crack of your bum was cute, which is why you always showed it off for me and all the rest of creation to see.

Oh, and did you clean the jacuzzi before you used it? I was there the other night - you know, memories - when you were gone. I brought my boyfriend and his girlfriend over to show them the style of life I've become accustomed to, but they reassured me that they could easily do as well for me, both of them working at McDonald's and all. We used the jacuzzi, as a fair well to the property (I know you understand, Dearest Dan). Once we got to the back porch, though, remember that lock that you never got around to fixing? Well, it locked us out...you can imagine our sincere concern when we realized we had to use the bathroom, but couldn't get back in. Well, water does absorb smells, you were always right about that.

Oh! Last thing. My little sister the tart? Well, she's been breaking out in these really odd cold sores. I think it's stress related, and shouldn't be a worry for you. But please, the next time you're together, could you refrain from making fun of those open weepy places? She takes it ever so personally. She's even confided in me that it hurts her to urinate. I've strongly suggested she drink cranberry juice. Maybe that will cure her. I explained that those pesky pills she could get at the Dr. will do no help at all. She understands.

Thanks for the memories. And the laughs. It's been an interesting run, hasn't it?

Connie

~Do Angels keep the dreams we seek
While our hearts lie bleeding?~