Divorce Letter
by MOSTJO
Here is the ultimate divorce letter: Yes its worth the read.
World's Best Divorce Letter
Dear Sandy,
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 has
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, Sandy." 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 Olivia's 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 your 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 Sandy? I doubt it. And I'm never really thought of that
before.
I don't know, maybe I'm just growing up a little. Later, after I 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, Sandy, I'm just
going crazy without you. And everything I do just reminds me of you.
Do you remember Kim, that single mom we met at the Little League field a
few years ago? 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 beers and the next thing you know, we're banging
away in our bedroom. And this chick is 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 Sandy 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, Lee'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, Sandy, 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 Lee'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 fuelled 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, Sandy. 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, Wayne
World's Best Divorce Letter
Dear Sandy,
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 has
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, Sandy." 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 Olivia's 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 your 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 Sandy? I doubt it. And I'm never really thought of that
before.
I don't know, maybe I'm just growing up a little. Later, after I 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, Sandy, I'm just
going crazy without you. And everything I do just reminds me of you.
Do you remember Kim, that single mom we met at the Little League field a
few years ago? 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 beers and the next thing you know, we're banging
away in our bedroom. And this chick is 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 Sandy 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, Lee'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, Sandy, 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 Lee'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 fuelled 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, Sandy. 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, Wayne
99 Roush Stage III Mustang
91 GT 306
