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Monday, September 25, 2006

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

Example

Dear Dallas Cowboys:

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 signed T.O., 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 team like you, Dallas Cowboys." 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 Fox & Hound 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. Every man's dream, right? But as I spent hours upon hours on the couch with this hottie, 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 Dallas Cowboys? I doubt it. And I'd never really thought of that before. I don't know, maybe I'm just growing up a little.

But, 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. 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 in Deep Ellum 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 in our old bed. And this tart's a total monster in the sack. She has all the moves, 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. But, it wasn't you.

Saturday, your sister dropped 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. 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 "pass interference" 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 making sweet love with your baby sister, all I can do is think of you? It's true. 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 remote control is?

Scott

P.S. How I pine for the old days...

2 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Genious. Cowboys suck!

9:50 PM  
Blogger Jason Patlan said...

WTF? Scott: New rule...no posting after the 7th beer and/or 3rd Irish Car Bomb.


And it's "genius". See also: "Ironic".

10:01 PM  

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