For the ladies...An email classic, and oh so true!
- Thread starter Candy
- Start date
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 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
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 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
DEAR AMANDA,
I THINK WE HAVE MADE THE RIGHT DECISION. THANK YOU FOR YOUR LOVE THESE PAST FIVE MONTHS. I WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT OUR TIME TOGETHER WILL LIVE INSIDE ME IN A SPECIAL PLACE IN MY HEART. IT IS BEST IF WE DO NOT PHONE OR WRITE.
LOVE ALWAYS,
JOEY
DEAR AMANDA,
I DIALED YOU LAST NIGHT BECAUSE THE LUCY "PIE" EPISODE WAS ON AND I KNEW YOU'D WANT TO SEE IT. ANYWAY, WHILE I WAS LEAVING A MESSAGE I ACCIDENTALLY PUNCHED IN YOUR MESSAGE RETRIEVAL CODE. SORRY ABOUT THAT. WHO'S FRANCISCO?
JUST CURIOUS.
JOEY
DEAR AMANDA,
I REALIZED THAT I STILL HAVE YOUR SET OF SIX JAPANESE SAKE CUPS THAT I BOUGHT FOR YOU ON OUR TRIP DOWNTOWN AND WAS WONDERING WHEN MIGHT BE A GOOD TIME TO DROP THEM BY. YOU CAN GIVE ME A CALL AT THE USUAL NUMBER, OR MAYBE AT THE OFFICE BEFORE SEVEN, BUT THEN TRY THE CAR, OR I'M USUALLY HOME NOW BY SEVEN FORTY-FIVE. I WOULD LIKE TO GET THESE BACK TO YOU, AS I KNOW YOU MUST BE THINKING ABOUT THEM. THIS WILL BE MY LAST LETTER.
REGARDS,
JOEY
DEAR AMANDA,
IT WAS A LUCKY COINCIDENCE THAT MY CAT LEAPED ON YOUR SPEED DIAL BUTTON LAST
NIGHT, AS IT GAVE US A CHANCE TO TALK AGAIN. AFTERWARD, I WAS WONDERING
WHAT YOU MEANT WHEN YOU SAID, "IT'S OVER, JOEY. GET IT INTO YOUR HEAD." SO
MANY INTERPRETATIONS. OH, I FOUND MYSELF ON YOUR STREET LAST NIGHT AND
NOTICED A YELLOW MUSTANG THAT I DON'T REMEMBER EVER SEEING AT YOUR APARTMENT
COMPLEX. DOES THIS BELONG TO THE MYSTERIOUS FRANCISCO I'VE HEARD RUMORS
ABOUT? I LEFT ONE OF THE SAKE CUPS AT YOUR FRONT DOOR; IT HAPPENED TO BE IN
MY CAR.
WITH
RESPECT,
JOEY
DEAR AMANDA,
THIS WILL BE THE LAST LETTER I WRITE YOU. I HATE TO HURT YOU LIKE THIS, BUT
I AM SEEING SOMEONE NEW. YOU'DE LIKE HER. BUT PLEASE DO NOT CALL MARISA AT
THE KINGS KAFE WHERE SHE WAITRESSES FROM NOON TO EIGHT. INCIDENTALLY, I
HEARD THAT FRANCISCO HAD OR IS HAVING A TAX PROBLEM. SHOULD I MEET WITH
HIM? I'M OVER IT ALL NOW AND WOULD BE GLAD TO HELP. ALSO, A WORD OF
WARNING: LATINS. ONE WOMAN IS NEVER ENOUGH.
JOEY
P.S. DO YOU HAVE MY RED PENTEL PEN? I REALLY NEED IT. PAGE ME WHEN YOU
GET THIS.
DEAR AMANDA,
GUESS WHAT? I GOT A WEEKEND JOB WASHING WINDOWS AT YOUR APARTMENT BUILDING!
THE GUYS IN LEGAL THINK I'M NUTS, BUT IT'S SOMETHING I'VE ALWAYS ENJOYED
DOING. REMEMBER HOW I USED TO LOVE TO DO THE WINDSHIELD EVEN AT THE FULL
SERVICE PUMP? JUST WANTED TO WARN YOU, AS I WILL PROBABLY BE WEARING YOUR
FAVORITE OUTFIT OF MINE: THE TAN PANTS, MY BLUE GAP SHIRT, AND MY FOAM "GO
GATORS" HAT. IT'S SO EASY TO START THINGS UP AGAIN, AND I WOULDN'T WANT TO
THINK IT WAS BECAUSE OF MY NEWLY ACQUIRED STOMACH RIPPLES. BY THE WAY,
THERE'S SOMEONE NAMED FRANCISCO TRYING TO PICK UP GIRLS ON THE INTERNET.
HMMM, I WONDER.
J.
DEAR AMANDA,
THIS WILL BE THE LAST LETTER I WRITE TO YOU. I'M QUITE UPSET THAT YOU
CHANGED YOUR PHONE WITHOUT A FORWARDING NUMBER. THERE COULD BE AN
EMERGENCY, AND I'M STILL IN POSESSION OF THOSE FANCY UPHOLSTERED HANGERS OF
YOURS. MARISA QUESTIONED THEM THE OTHER DAY AND IT WASN'T FUN. THEY'RE
PROBABLY TO DEAR TO YOU FOR ME TO THROW THEM OUT, AS WE BOUGHT THEM TOGETHER
AT THE SWAP MEET THE DAY YOUR MOTHER RAVED ABOUT ME, TELLING YOU I WAS
"PLEASANT." PLEASE COME BY AND PICK THEM UP; THEY'RE SERIOUSLY DAMAGING MY
RELATIONSHIP WITH MARISA. A GOOD TIME WOULD BE ANY WEDNESDAY AFTER FIVE BUT
NOT AFTER SEVEN, FRIDAYS ALL DAY EXCEPT LUNCH, MONDAY IS GOOD, AND THE
WEEKEND, ANYTIME. ALSO TUESDAY.
JOEY
DEAR AMANDA,
VALENTINES DAY IS TOMORROW AND I HOPE YOU DON'T MIND MY THROWING THIS NOTE
THROUGH YOUR WINDOW, AS POST WOULD BE TO SLOW. THE ROCK IT'S TIED TO CAME
FROM OUR DESERT TRIP! I'M WONDERING IF YOU'D LIKE TO GET TOGETHER FOR A
QUICK LUNCH ON THE FOURTEENTH? I NEED TO GET MY LETTERS BACK FROM YOU, AND
COULD YOU BRING THIS ONE TOO? I'LL MEET YOU AT WAVY DAVES, AT OUR OLD
TABLE. I'LL BRING THE HANGERS, AND I ALSO WANT YOU TO HAVE THE SMALL PHOTO
OF ME NUDE SKYDIVING. I DON'T THINK I CAN HANDLE ALL THE SAKE CUPS BUT I
COULD CERTAINLY BRING A FEW. YOU CAN EVEN BRING FRANCISCO IF YOU WANT;
MAYBE I COULD HELP HIM SORT OUT HIS HEAVY UROLOGY BILLS. CAN YOU LET ME
KNOW SOON? I'M WAITING OUTSIDE ON THE LAWN.
THIS WILL BE THE LAST LETTER I WRITE TO YOU.
LOVE YOU
ALWAYS,
JOEY
I THINK WE HAVE MADE THE RIGHT DECISION. THANK YOU FOR YOUR LOVE THESE PAST FIVE MONTHS. I WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT OUR TIME TOGETHER WILL LIVE INSIDE ME IN A SPECIAL PLACE IN MY HEART. IT IS BEST IF WE DO NOT PHONE OR WRITE.
LOVE ALWAYS,
JOEY
DEAR AMANDA,
I DIALED YOU LAST NIGHT BECAUSE THE LUCY "PIE" EPISODE WAS ON AND I KNEW YOU'D WANT TO SEE IT. ANYWAY, WHILE I WAS LEAVING A MESSAGE I ACCIDENTALLY PUNCHED IN YOUR MESSAGE RETRIEVAL CODE. SORRY ABOUT THAT. WHO'S FRANCISCO?
JUST CURIOUS.
JOEY
DEAR AMANDA,
I REALIZED THAT I STILL HAVE YOUR SET OF SIX JAPANESE SAKE CUPS THAT I BOUGHT FOR YOU ON OUR TRIP DOWNTOWN AND WAS WONDERING WHEN MIGHT BE A GOOD TIME TO DROP THEM BY. YOU CAN GIVE ME A CALL AT THE USUAL NUMBER, OR MAYBE AT THE OFFICE BEFORE SEVEN, BUT THEN TRY THE CAR, OR I'M USUALLY HOME NOW BY SEVEN FORTY-FIVE. I WOULD LIKE TO GET THESE BACK TO YOU, AS I KNOW YOU MUST BE THINKING ABOUT THEM. THIS WILL BE MY LAST LETTER.
REGARDS,
JOEY
DEAR AMANDA,
IT WAS A LUCKY COINCIDENCE THAT MY CAT LEAPED ON YOUR SPEED DIAL BUTTON LAST
NIGHT, AS IT GAVE US A CHANCE TO TALK AGAIN. AFTERWARD, I WAS WONDERING
WHAT YOU MEANT WHEN YOU SAID, "IT'S OVER, JOEY. GET IT INTO YOUR HEAD." SO
MANY INTERPRETATIONS. OH, I FOUND MYSELF ON YOUR STREET LAST NIGHT AND
NOTICED A YELLOW MUSTANG THAT I DON'T REMEMBER EVER SEEING AT YOUR APARTMENT
COMPLEX. DOES THIS BELONG TO THE MYSTERIOUS FRANCISCO I'VE HEARD RUMORS
ABOUT? I LEFT ONE OF THE SAKE CUPS AT YOUR FRONT DOOR; IT HAPPENED TO BE IN
MY CAR.
WITH
RESPECT,
JOEY
DEAR AMANDA,
THIS WILL BE THE LAST LETTER I WRITE YOU. I HATE TO HURT YOU LIKE THIS, BUT
I AM SEEING SOMEONE NEW. YOU'DE LIKE HER. BUT PLEASE DO NOT CALL MARISA AT
THE KINGS KAFE WHERE SHE WAITRESSES FROM NOON TO EIGHT. INCIDENTALLY, I
HEARD THAT FRANCISCO HAD OR IS HAVING A TAX PROBLEM. SHOULD I MEET WITH
HIM? I'M OVER IT ALL NOW AND WOULD BE GLAD TO HELP. ALSO, A WORD OF
WARNING: LATINS. ONE WOMAN IS NEVER ENOUGH.
JOEY
P.S. DO YOU HAVE MY RED PENTEL PEN? I REALLY NEED IT. PAGE ME WHEN YOU
GET THIS.
DEAR AMANDA,
GUESS WHAT? I GOT A WEEKEND JOB WASHING WINDOWS AT YOUR APARTMENT BUILDING!
THE GUYS IN LEGAL THINK I'M NUTS, BUT IT'S SOMETHING I'VE ALWAYS ENJOYED
DOING. REMEMBER HOW I USED TO LOVE TO DO THE WINDSHIELD EVEN AT THE FULL
SERVICE PUMP? JUST WANTED TO WARN YOU, AS I WILL PROBABLY BE WEARING YOUR
FAVORITE OUTFIT OF MINE: THE TAN PANTS, MY BLUE GAP SHIRT, AND MY FOAM "GO
GATORS" HAT. IT'S SO EASY TO START THINGS UP AGAIN, AND I WOULDN'T WANT TO
THINK IT WAS BECAUSE OF MY NEWLY ACQUIRED STOMACH RIPPLES. BY THE WAY,
THERE'S SOMEONE NAMED FRANCISCO TRYING TO PICK UP GIRLS ON THE INTERNET.
HMMM, I WONDER.
J.
DEAR AMANDA,
THIS WILL BE THE LAST LETTER I WRITE TO YOU. I'M QUITE UPSET THAT YOU
CHANGED YOUR PHONE WITHOUT A FORWARDING NUMBER. THERE COULD BE AN
EMERGENCY, AND I'M STILL IN POSESSION OF THOSE FANCY UPHOLSTERED HANGERS OF
YOURS. MARISA QUESTIONED THEM THE OTHER DAY AND IT WASN'T FUN. THEY'RE
PROBABLY TO DEAR TO YOU FOR ME TO THROW THEM OUT, AS WE BOUGHT THEM TOGETHER
AT THE SWAP MEET THE DAY YOUR MOTHER RAVED ABOUT ME, TELLING YOU I WAS
"PLEASANT." PLEASE COME BY AND PICK THEM UP; THEY'RE SERIOUSLY DAMAGING MY
RELATIONSHIP WITH MARISA. A GOOD TIME WOULD BE ANY WEDNESDAY AFTER FIVE BUT
NOT AFTER SEVEN, FRIDAYS ALL DAY EXCEPT LUNCH, MONDAY IS GOOD, AND THE
WEEKEND, ANYTIME. ALSO TUESDAY.
JOEY
DEAR AMANDA,
VALENTINES DAY IS TOMORROW AND I HOPE YOU DON'T MIND MY THROWING THIS NOTE
THROUGH YOUR WINDOW, AS POST WOULD BE TO SLOW. THE ROCK IT'S TIED TO CAME
FROM OUR DESERT TRIP! I'M WONDERING IF YOU'D LIKE TO GET TOGETHER FOR A
QUICK LUNCH ON THE FOURTEENTH? I NEED TO GET MY LETTERS BACK FROM YOU, AND
COULD YOU BRING THIS ONE TOO? I'LL MEET YOU AT WAVY DAVES, AT OUR OLD
TABLE. I'LL BRING THE HANGERS, AND I ALSO WANT YOU TO HAVE THE SMALL PHOTO
OF ME NUDE SKYDIVING. I DON'T THINK I CAN HANDLE ALL THE SAKE CUPS BUT I
COULD CERTAINLY BRING A FEW. YOU CAN EVEN BRING FRANCISCO IF YOU WANT;
MAYBE I COULD HELP HIM SORT OUT HIS HEAVY UROLOGY BILLS. CAN YOU LET ME
KNOW SOON? I'M WAITING OUTSIDE ON THE LAWN.
THIS WILL BE THE LAST LETTER I WRITE TO YOU.
LOVE YOU
ALWAYS,
JOEY