Divorce Letter
Divorce letter
Dear Meg,
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, Meg
."
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 Erie House 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 Meg? 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,
Meg , 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 Meg 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, Vicki's just a girl 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, Meg, she really is. So we're doing Jell-O shots in a hot
bubble bath and talking about
happier times. Here's this 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 Vicki'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, Meg. 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, Jimmy
MEN !!! humph !! 
