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World's Best Divorce Letter

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 has 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'm never really thought of that
before.

I don't know, maybe I'm just growing up a little. Later, after I'm
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'snot 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 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,
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

мдя...

Неплохо...

Это писал американец Среди них много таких

А вот так еще лучше!!! Промт:

Michael2000, ты прав, нечего в русскоязычном форуме постить длинные английские тексты.

Я этому письму не верю, болше похоже на мудацкие сексуальные фантазии.