Divorce Joke

[fatter than harry]

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 asss that just

wouldn't quit. Every man's dream, right? But as I sat on the couch

beingblown 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 fukcing remote is.

Love, Dan.