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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 K*ds 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 K*D 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 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 f------g remote is.
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