Saturday February 17th 2007, 3:39 am
Filed under: All Letters,Love Letters

To the M trinity:

Mary: Mary is a short, sweet, strong and beautiful woman. Her intelligence spans across plains of wisdom, from post-modern philosophy to circus camp training. Mary has a special place in my heart because of how brilliant a woman she is. Her fine hair is concealed by colorful strips of dreaded yarn, which is intertwined from her scalp to the tips of her strands. Her skull is a bit larger than the average woman’s skull, however he cranium’s unique architecture only helps to support her expansive consciousness. I met Mary on Friendster shortly after my break up and wanted nothing more than to discuss the dynamics of relationships through a dialectical understanding betwixt I and the Other. Mary thought I was too shy to kiss her; however, a kiss could not compare to the intellectual consumption I craved from this born east-coast beauty. Mary was always too busy to spend the amount of time I wanted her to spend with me. What begun as a beautiful brilliance, ended as a flaky misunderstanding. She plainly didn’t have the time to develop a commitment to me. I don’t blame her for her busy schedule. I especially enjoyed Mary’s snuggles.

Morgan: The connection with Morgan was a curious one. We met on MySpace as I was going through lonely and macabre evenings in San Francisco. Her profile said she lived in SF; however a week before I first messaged Morgan, her boyfriend cheated on her, therefore she absconded from SF to move back to her home in Phoenix, Arizona. After weeks of messaging back and forth, I finally made the decision to visit Morgan in Phoenix. I had never been to Phoenix, and besides, I needed to make a new physical connection with a girl something to help me physically get over Mindy. When I arrived in Phoenix, Morgan was already drunk. She was sweet and docile, but as she progressively became more intoxicated a powerful woman emerged from within her frail essence. This precedence was enough to spark a curiosity in me, to find out why a woman like her could turn a Ms. Jekyll into a Ms. Hyde. Morgan’s dad left her at an early age, and her mom died when she was 11. She was raised by her uncle in Arizona, yet hates her wealthy frugal Aunt. Morgan may never leave AZ again. She feels as if her dream, San Francisco, was ruined and can never reoccur. I told Morgan that dreams end, you wake up, you go back to sleep and your dream begins again.

Mindy: You and I met on Friendster late last August. Needless to say, I was bemused by everything concerning you and your history. Sexually, you were a nymphomaniac, and I loved every sexual position you could bend yourself into. I honestly crave the touch and smell of your insides. The sounds you made while being fucked were angelic, or demonic (same thing). Your lips were tolls of pleasure that manipulated my lips in ways unknown to me in the past. However, your lips were also a source of pain, biting hard into my skin, as if you vacillated between a monstrous carnivore and delicate vegan. The dichotomies that developed inside your head were pleasurable to me, and I loved every word in which you spoke. Your boredom enticed me to reevaluate my own nature of boring you. I wanted to be everything to you, while hypocritically not allowing you to be everything to me. I continually reminded you of your beauty and physical gratification, however I never allowed you to complete me. I needed Art to do that. And this was a problem for our marriage. However, I still doubt how authentic your request was to be my “everything.? The sex was good, Mindy, even though I was boy number 37 on your list of men. You were my number 17.


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