Some may find this amusing:
Dear Audrey
A letter written by a heartbroken man to his estranged partner:
Dear Audrey:
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, Audrey." 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 Flamingoes 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 perfect body. Jugs you wouldn't believe and
an ass like a tortoise shell. 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 Audrey? 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 niggling 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, Audrey, to watch. Do you know what I mean? Nothing feels the
same without you. Jesus, Audrey, 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 Pontins 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 Audrey
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."
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 counsel about you and about
women in general. She's pulling for us to get back together, Audrey,
She really is. So we're drinking in a hot 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 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 your baby sister's cinnamon ring, all
I can do is think of you?
It's true, Audrey. 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. If you feel the same please please please let me
know, otherwise, can you let me know where the Sky remote control is.
John
Biker and the soup
A man came into a restaurant and looked for a place to sit down, when
he noticed an old man sitting in front of a dish of soup. But the old
man was not eating it.
"What a pity," thought the biker. "This man is not eating his soup,
but I am hungry. Eating his soup will be a good idea and I won't have
to pay for it."
He sat at the old man's table, arrogantly just took his soup and
started eating it. The old man did not react. When he was almost
finished, he found a hairy comb at the bottom of the dish. He
immediately vomited the soup back into the dish.
"That's strange," said the old man. "That's just as far as I got."
Reply With Quote
Originally Posted by Lou Girardin
, I too kinda have a curvy figure which makes it worse beacuse im a guy. Well the waist kinda goes in and the bum pushes out. When I was in college the girls in my year would slap me on the arse and squeeze because apparently it is firm, tight...
I wear jeans
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