Getting back together

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Sometimes it becomes difficult to just "let go" of old relationships.

As an example, read on about this guy who writes to his old beloved. It will
bring tears to your eyes. Pure poetry.

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>>Dear Terri:
>>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
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little boy

>>in me talking.
>>
>>Still, I never wanted to be the first one to make contact. In my
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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.
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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
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does.

>>Maybe it's time we let our hearts speak as loudly as our hurt. And
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this is

>>hat my heart says... "There's no one like you, Terri."
>>
>>I look for you in the eyes and breasts of every woman I see, but
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they're

>>not you. They're not even close. Two weeks ago, I met this girl at the
>>Rainbow Room and brought her home with me. I don't say this to hurt
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you,

>>but just to illustrate the depth of my desperation. She was young,
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Terri,

>>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.
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Tits

>>you wouldn't believe and an ass like a tortoise shell. Every man's
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dream,

>>right?
>>
>>But as I sat on the couch being blown by this coed, I thought, look at
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the

>>stuff we've made important in our lives. It's all so surface. What
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does a

>>perfect body mean? Does it make her better in bed? Well, in this case,
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yes.

>>But you see what I'm getting at. Does it make her a better person?
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Does she

>>have a better heart than my moderately attractive Terri? I doubt it.
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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 quart of throat yogurt, I found
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myself

>>thinking, "Why do I feel so drained and empty?" It wasn't just her
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flawless

>>technique or her slutty, shameless hunger, but something else. Some
>>niggling feeling of loss. Why did it feel so incomplete? And then it
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hit

>>me. It didn't feel the same because you weren't there, Terri, to
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watch. Do

>>you know what I mean? Nothing feels the same without you, baby. Jesus,
>>Terri, I'm just going crazy without you.
>>
>>And everything I do just reminds me of you. Do you remember Carol,
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that

>>single mom we met at Mt. Sinai Baptist Church? Well, she drops by last
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week

>>with a pan of lasagna. She said she figured I wasn't eating right
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without a

>>woman around. I didn't know what she meant till later, but that's not
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the

>>real story. Anyway, we have a few glasses of wine and the next thing
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you

>>know we're fucking in our old bedroom. And this broad's a total
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monster in

>>the sack. She's giving me everything, you know like a real woman does
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when

>>she's not hung up about God and her career and whether the kids can
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hear

>>us. And all of a sudden she spots that tilting mirror on your
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grandmother's

>>old vanity. So she puts it on the floor and we straddle it, right, so
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we

>>can watch ourselves. And it's totally hot, but it makes me sad too.
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'Cause

>>I can't help thinking, "Why didn't Terri ever put the mirror on the
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floor?

>>We've had this old vanity for what, 14 years, and we never used it as
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a sex

>>aid." (Some of this I thought about later.) You know what I mean? What