[Bonkyboy]

This is a female version of a classic divorce letter. For the ladies:


Dear John,

I know we agreed that we shouldn't  contact each other
during our "cooling off" period, but I couldn't  wait anymore.  The day you
said, "Go away," I swore I'd never talk to you  again. But that was just the wounded
little girl 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, Johnny." I look for you in
the  eyes and rippled muscles of every man I see, but they're not you. ! They're
not  even close.  Two weeks ago, I met this guy at at the Starbucks and brought  
him home with me.  I don't say this to hurt you, but just to  illustrate the
depth of my desperation.

He was young, maybe 19,  with one of those perfect bodies that only youth
and maybe a childhood  spent pumping iron can give you. I mean, just a perfect
body.  Hung  like you wouldn't believe and an ass that just wouldn't quit. Every
woman's  dream, right? But as I sat on the couch being licked all over 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 him  better in bed?
Well, in this case, yes, but you see what I'm getting at.   Does it make him a
better person?  Does he have a better heart  than my moderately attractive
John? 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 gladly sucked him
dry, I found myself thinking, "Why do I feel so drained and  empty?"  
It wasn't just his flawless technique or his powerful thrusts as I was bent over the
couch, 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, John, I'm just going  crazy without you. And
everything I do just reminds me of you.

Do  you remember Bill, that single friend of yours you introduced me to last month?
Well, he dropped by last week with an offer to help with the yard. He said  
he figured my bush wasn't being tended to without a man around.

I didn't  know what he 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 the bedroom where we used to play.  And this man is a total  monster in the sack.
He's giving me everything, you know, like a  real man does when he's
not hung up about what his mother thinks or his law career and  whether his daughter can hear
us. And all of a sudden, he spots that tilting  mirror on my old vanity.  So he 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 Johnny ever put the mirror on the floor?  

But do you see how even then,  when he's thrusting inside me, making me come over and over,
all I can do is think of you?  It's true, Johnny.  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,
Jane