Divorce letter

>
>Dear Connie,
>
>I know the counsellor 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 fuelled 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 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,  Dan
>
>