deepundergroundpoetry.com

Love sick Love

Dearest Jenny,

Concerning your recent letter of rejection of our  budding relationship.  I saw through the whole thing as a testimonial of your love for me.  When you said that the picture I sent to you was cut and pasted from my 1990’s high school photo, you  flatter.  You made me feel so young.  It was actually from the seventies.  
Listen. I know things are a little conflicted, your emotions towards me.   Sure there are feelings in you saying to yourself,   “That guy could be my Grand-daddy”.  Yes, yes, it is true.  But let us not overreact.  Sure your instincts lead you towards a young and viral twenty something muscular male with rippling sheen, long brown hair, a gentle beard… and an undying, ‘can’t live without you’  devotion to only you.
But Heck, We all know, let’s be honest here, these guys are a dime a dozen.  You have to beat them off with a stick.  Why settle for such a mundane life, you know, especially when you can have me.  
When I was that age, before you were born into this life, I waited for you.  I masturbated daily, and stored my sperm in the freezer for you.  Once we take this relationship to the next level, I will show you my sperm collection.  Signed sealed and dated, to prove my faithfulness and virginity.
Yes, there are some missing dates in my collection, but I can explain.  I was only practicing for when we would finally meet, that I could show you some  prowess, to give you the desires, the pleasures a woman needs, longs for even  before you know you long for them.
Ok, Ok, I practiced on Horses, Cows and goats.  Let’s just get that out on the table right now.  But I never,  ever strayed outside of mammalian species. I have some sense of decency.  You would NEVER catch me trying to seduce a turtle, or a fish, or a lobster.
 Alright, Alright, I have THOUGHT about the challenges involved in satisfying myself with a lobster.  You know, the logistical challenges of not getting my male member pinched off with those big, sexy claws…
…But I digress.  You, as an educated, modern woman, smart in the ways of the world, need to ask yourself, “whats in it for me?”  What IS in it for you?  Is it the sense of security knowing that the 100 dollars left over from my monthly wrongful firing court settlement check, after paying for living expenses and my porn habit is ALL YOURS?
It’s not just that.  Is it that warm feeling knowing there will always be a slice of bread saved for you, and butter and jam to put on it, and a toaster to toast it in?  Is it the sense of belonging when my mother comes to visit us to bring us fresh baked cookies, and to help dust and rearrange the furniture, and let slip psychological comments that cut deeply?  
No.  Is it my body heat to warm you and my body odour to drive off the biting creatures in the blanket?  No, Jenny, There is So much more.  So much.   I will explain.
But please, Jenny, allow me to talk to you a moment about MY needs.  Let me begin with  your  rejection letter to me .  You were  full of so much flattery, (That cartoon sketch of me was so cute and cuddly), you were practically begging me to take you  and have you right there on my computer screen.  I don’t need beggars.
I need to beg and grovel.  I need  to hand you my wallet and say “ take what you wish”  I will live on whats left until the next paycheck.
I need to wait by the phone for your whimsical call, offering you any favour.   While you make me burn with jealousy  when  I drive you to your boyfriends house and wait outside in the cold for three hours until you are done.  I need to slap my face in a cold sweat as I pace outside his darkened window hearing the faint noises.  I need the black dude on the bicycle circling the block looking out for police for the corner drug seller to ask me, “ Hey, are you OK?”
 Then I fumble with small talk as you sit in the back seat on your drive back to your flat ignoring me.
This is what makes life worth living.
So please.  Write me a rejection letter like you MEAN it.  Really spend some time crafting a verbal kick in the pants.  I know you’ve got it in you.  You just don’t know it yet.

Love,
David
Written by rabbitquest
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