| Topic: |
Sociology > Depression |
| User: |
"Nomen Nescio" |
| Date: |
05 Feb 2004 06:20:11 PM |
| Object: |
Judi, please read this. |
Dear Judi:
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, Judi."
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 Rainbow Room 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, Judi, maybe 19, with one of those perfect bodies
that
only youth and maybe a childhood spent in gymnastics can give
you. I
mean, just a perfect body. Tits you wouldn't believe and an ***** like
a
tortoise shell. Every man's dream, right?
But as I sat on the couch being blown by this coed, I thought, look
at
the stuff we've made important in our lives. It's all so surface. What
does a perfect body mean? Does it make her better in bed? Well,
in
this case, yes.
But you see the deal here? Does it make her a better person?
Does she
have a better heart than my moderately attractive Judi? 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 quart 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 giggling 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,
Judi, to watch. Do you now that I mean? Nothing feels the same
without
you, baby.
Jesus, Judi, 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 ashram? Well, she drops 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 'til later, but that's not the real story.
Anyway, we have a few glasses of wine and the next thing you
know
we're fucking in our old bedroom. And this broad'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 God and her career and whether someone 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 Judi 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." (Some of this I thought about later.)
Do you see the deal here? What happened to our spontaneity?
You get so
caught up in the routine of a relationship and you just lose sight of
each other. And then you lose yourself. That's the saddest part of
all
for me.
But I keep thinking we can get it back I know we can, because I
only
want this stuff with you. Saturday, your sister drops by with my copy
of the restraining order. I mean, your sister's just a kid and all,
but she's got a pretty good head on her shoulders.
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, Judi. She really is.)
So we're drinking in the hot tub and talking about happier times.
Here's this hot girl with the same DNA as you (although, let's face
it, she got an extra helping of the sexy gene) and all I can do is
think of how much she looks like you when you were younger.
And that just about makes me cry. And then it turns out your
sister'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 the steaming hot Dutch oven of
your
sister's cinnamon ring, all I can do is think of you? It's true, baby.
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. I keep thinking that if you'd just
try it, I wouldn't have to pressure you so much. Because who
needs all
that bitterness, Judi? It just tears us apart. And I can't be apart
from you.
Because I love you,
Stephen
.
|
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| User: "humble.life" |
|
| Title: Re: Judi, please read this. |
06 Feb 2004 08:17:17 AM |
|
|
Because I love you,
Stephen
well, been there, done it, realised that her needs were based around money
and happyness.
It wasn't and won't happen.
dunno about you, but I'm out of that game.
.
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