12.16.2004
dear exhusband,
i know its the season of giving and love, but i dont think sharing your VD with me is what they had in mind. so really, please stop trying to sleep with me. just stop it. because its not only gross, but there is just no fucking way. sure, i admit, i was weak and gave in a few times after we seperated. and not just the time we made our second child like i told everyone. because it is humilating enough to have to admit that i married you, and worse to admit you stuck anything of yours near anything of mine. but that was then, you know, like when i was still out of my mind and doing things of a disgusting nature, like smoking and having sex with you. weve been divorced for a year and a half now. you have ANOTHER kid. the fact that you claim im your 'freebie forever' cause i used to be married to you, is both fucking retarded, and a long shot. youd have better luck trying to convince ben affleck into bed with you. not that you havent thought about that on many occasions. so to put it bluntly, on a scale of 1-10 of the chances of me sleeping with you, you rate at about a FUCK OFF ALREADY. so everytime you call and tell me you have your hand in your pants, i am neither surprised, nor amused. the simple fact that you have your hand in your pants is pretty much just saying that your keeping up with that hourly schedule you must so desperately need these days. and if you think that it might prompt me into some steamy phonesex fantasy, you are wrong. very very wrong. yes i remember when we would have sex on the porch, it was gross. yes i remember having sex against the front door to freak out the bible study group across the halls on tuesdays, that was gross too. yes i remember all those things, but as i hear you remind me of them it makes me want to claw at my ears and watch my breakfast reappear. so in summary - not going to happen, not going to happen, not ever in a million years even if you promised me an endless supply of hostess cupcakes is it ever going to fucking happen. ever.
all my love,
kayde (you know, the one still waiting for some child support)
ps. everytime i hear you say anything about wanting to fuck, it makes me think of cheap booze and strippers. i wonder why that is.
i know its the season of giving and love, but i dont think sharing your VD with me is what they had in mind. so really, please stop trying to sleep with me. just stop it. because its not only gross, but there is just no fucking way. sure, i admit, i was weak and gave in a few times after we seperated. and not just the time we made our second child like i told everyone. because it is humilating enough to have to admit that i married you, and worse to admit you stuck anything of yours near anything of mine. but that was then, you know, like when i was still out of my mind and doing things of a disgusting nature, like smoking and having sex with you. weve been divorced for a year and a half now. you have ANOTHER kid. the fact that you claim im your 'freebie forever' cause i used to be married to you, is both fucking retarded, and a long shot. youd have better luck trying to convince ben affleck into bed with you. not that you havent thought about that on many occasions. so to put it bluntly, on a scale of 1-10 of the chances of me sleeping with you, you rate at about a FUCK OFF ALREADY. so everytime you call and tell me you have your hand in your pants, i am neither surprised, nor amused. the simple fact that you have your hand in your pants is pretty much just saying that your keeping up with that hourly schedule you must so desperately need these days. and if you think that it might prompt me into some steamy phonesex fantasy, you are wrong. very very wrong. yes i remember when we would have sex on the porch, it was gross. yes i remember having sex against the front door to freak out the bible study group across the halls on tuesdays, that was gross too. yes i remember all those things, but as i hear you remind me of them it makes me want to claw at my ears and watch my breakfast reappear. so in summary - not going to happen, not going to happen, not ever in a million years even if you promised me an endless supply of hostess cupcakes is it ever going to fucking happen. ever.
all my love,
kayde (you know, the one still waiting for some child support)
ps. everytime i hear you say anything about wanting to fuck, it makes me think of cheap booze and strippers. i wonder why that is.
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