Thread: Divorce Letter (Very Funny)

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 babysister'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. Otherwise, can you let me know where the fucking remote is.

Love,
Dick

^^yeah, he's married! lol