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Dear Connie, …
…
I know the counsellor said we should’t contact each other during our “cooling off” period, but I could’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 me pride’s cost me a lot of things. I’m tired of pretending I don’t miss you. Maybe it’s time we let our hearts speak as loudly as our hurt. …
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This is what my heart says: “There’s no one like you, Connie. I look for you in the eyes and вrеаsтs 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. Тiтs like you wouldn’t believe and an аss that just wouldn’t quit. Every man’s dream, right?
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 that 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, Im 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 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 or wine and the next thing you know, we’re ваnging away in our old bedroom. And this таrт’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 because 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 sеx toy.”
Saturday, your little sister drops by with my copy of the restraining order. I mean, Vicki’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 that whole аnаl 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 it 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 fuскing remote is?
My wife left for her Father's home for vacation yesterday, when I was at my office.
When I reached home, I found this note stick on the television.
I am going to My Mom's Place for 6-7 days with kids and these are the instructions and warnings for you....
- No need to call your friends and cousins. Last time I got 4 large pizza bills beneath the sofa...
2 - Don't forget mobile on the soap holder in the bathroom like last time...
Why would anyone need a mobile in the bathroom?
3 - Keep your spe cs in the box..
Last time around it was found in the refrigerator.
4 - Salary already paid to maid.
No need to be extra generous.
5 - Don't disturb neighbors early in the morning asking if they have got newspaper or not?
Our newspaper vendor is different from theirs...
And our laundry person and milkman are also different.
6 - Your Underwear are on left side of wardrobe and on right side are kids'...
Like last time, don't say I was uncomfortable at work....
7 - All reports have been checked and you are alright.
No need to go to that young lady doctor again and again.
8 - My sister and Bhabhi's birthdays have gone last month which you have already attended.
No need to go to them at midnight and wish belated happy birthday..
9 - Have cut off WiFi for 10 days.
So sleep early....
10 - Stop smiling and being happy... as Mrs. Khanna, Mrs. Avasthi, Mrs. Kulkarni, Mrs. Trivedi, Mrs. Ansari, Mrs. Rastogi, Mrs. Chatteerjee...
They all w ill be out of station in this period....
11. Do not knock on the doors of that KALMUHI Priya, next door, on pretext of asking Sugar milk coffee powder or so one.
I stocked all these in kitchen cabinet. rnrnAnd last but not the least.
12 - Don't try to be oversmart.. rnI may be back any moment without informing you.
Happy vacation
A woman and her son were taking a cab in New York City. It was raining and all the hookers were standing under the awnings.
“Mom,” said the little boy, “what are all those women doing?”
“They’re waiting for their husbands to get off work,” she replied.
The cabbie turns around and says, “Geez lady, why don’t you tell him the truth? They ‘re hookers, boy! They have sеx with men for money.”
The little boy’s eyes get wide and he says, “Is that true, Mom?”
His mother, glaring hard at the cabbie, answers in the affirmative.
After a few minutes, the kid asks, “Mom, what happens to the babies those women have?”
“Most of them become cab drivers,” she said.
Two little kids debated whether Santa Claus is black or white. So the little black and white boys sent their letter in the mail to The North Pole asking, "Santa, are you black or white? P.S. I, Harry, want an iPhone and Kentavious wants an X-Box One." (Kids these days) Santa soon replies with a letter saying, "It doesn't matter if I am black or white. The only thing that matters is that you don't judge by color."
"Ha, see Kentavious, Santa is white!" Harry said. "No way. He neva said dat," Ketavious defended. "But if Santa was black," Harry started, "He would have said,'It doesn't matter if I is black or white.' "