A_Fletcher
05-14-2008, 02:04 AM
I got this in an email, and I've decided that there's really no better way to say "fuck you" than to actually think of doing this stuff. I've changed the names and some of the demographic information to fit my situation. Just so it's clear now, I didn't write the over whelming majority of this.
Dear Lora:
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, Lora." 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 The Varsity Club 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. Jugs you wouldn't
believe and an ass like a tortoise shell. 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 Lora? 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 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, Lora, to watch.
Do you know what I mean? Nothing feels the same without you. Jesus,
Lora, I'm just going crazy without you. And everything I do just
reminds me of you.
Do you remember Lindsay, that single mom we met at your JW convention 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 Lora ever put the mirror on the floor? We've
had this old vanity for what, 4 years, and we never used it as a sex
aid."
Saturday, your sister drops by with my copy of the restraining order.
I mean, Rachael's your sister 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 counsel about you and about women in
general. She's pulling for us to get back together, Lora, she really
is. So we're drinking in a hot bath and talking about happier times.
Here's this older version of you with the same DNA as you and all I can do is
think of how much I hope look like her when you're 30. And that just
about makes me cry. And then it turns out Rachael's really into the
whole anal thing and 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 older
sister's cinnamon ring, all I can do is think of you? It's true,
Lora. In your heart you know it. Don't you think we could start
over? Just wipe out all the grievances 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 remote control is.
Adam
Dear Lora:
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, Lora." 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 The Varsity Club 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. Jugs you wouldn't
believe and an ass like a tortoise shell. 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 Lora? 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 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, Lora, to watch.
Do you know what I mean? Nothing feels the same without you. Jesus,
Lora, I'm just going crazy without you. And everything I do just
reminds me of you.
Do you remember Lindsay, that single mom we met at your JW convention 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 Lora ever put the mirror on the floor? We've
had this old vanity for what, 4 years, and we never used it as a sex
aid."
Saturday, your sister drops by with my copy of the restraining order.
I mean, Rachael's your sister 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 counsel about you and about women in
general. She's pulling for us to get back together, Lora, she really
is. So we're drinking in a hot bath and talking about happier times.
Here's this older version of you with the same DNA as you and all I can do is
think of how much I hope look like her when you're 30. And that just
about makes me cry. And then it turns out Rachael's really into the
whole anal thing and 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 older
sister's cinnamon ring, all I can do is think of you? It's true,
Lora. In your heart you know it. Don't you think we could start
over? Just wipe out all the grievances 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 remote control is.
Adam