July 16, 200421 yr I found this on another site and thought you guys(/gals) might appreciate it. A letter written by a heartbroken man to his estranged partner Dear Audrey: 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. 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, Audrey." 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 Flamingoes 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 Audrey? 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 yoghurt, I found myself thinking, "Why do I feel so drained and empty?" It wasn't just her flawless technique or her sluttish, shameless hunger, but something else. Some niggling 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, Audrey, to watch. Do you know what I mean? Nothing feels the same without you. Jesus, Audrey, I'm just going crazy without you. And everything I do just reminds me of you. Do you remember Carol, that single mum we met at Pontins last year? Well, she dropped by last week with a pan of lasagne. 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 Audrey 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 aid. 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 counsel about you and about women in general. She's pulling for us to get back together, Audrey, She really is. So we're drinking in a hot 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 and 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, Audrey. 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 Sky remote control is. John
I found this on another site and thought you guys(/gals) might appreciate it.
A letter written by a heartbroken man to his estranged partner
Dear Audrey:
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. 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, Audrey." 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 Flamingoes 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 Audrey?
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 yoghurt, I found myself thinking, "Why do I feel so
drained and empty?" It wasn't just her flawless technique or her sluttish,
shameless hunger, but something else. Some niggling 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, Audrey, to watch. Do you know what I mean?
Nothing feels the same without you.
Jesus, Audrey, I'm just going crazy without you. And everything I do just
reminds me of you.
Do you remember Carol, that single mum we met at Pontins last year? Well,
she dropped by last week with a pan of lasagne. 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 Audrey 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 aid.
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 counsel about you and about women in general.
She's pulling for us to get back together, Audrey, She really is. So we're
drinking in a hot 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 and
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, Audrey. 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 Sky remote control is.
John