To start this story we have to go back in time. It's high school (no I am not telling you what year it was) and I was a geek, a weirdo and a pariah when it came to dating. My best friend on the other hand was a boy magnet. All the guys loved her. Me, they didn't love so much. They somewhat tolerated that I was a third wheel. I was always there, standing awkwardly as my best friend and her boyfriend whispered in each other's ears, nibbled on each other's necks, stuck their tongues down each other's throats. Yes that was me, the girl trying to look anywhere but at the couple making out.
One of my best friend's many paramours was the school's hot bad boy. Let's call him Brad. Brad joined our small private over privileged school in 10th grade and immediately established himself as a boy to be reckoned with, which meant he didn't look at me twice. By senior year my bestie had snagged him and kept him to herself all summer. So he knew who I was but didn't really acknowledge me as any more than that flat chested girl who hung out with them. I am pretty sure he barely knew my name.
Fast forward many years. High school reunion time. I have boobs now and a wee bit more confidence than I did as a teenager. Brad shows up. He looks pretty good but he is definitely not my type. Never married, still living as he did in high school, still didn't get any smarter. But this is a reunion and everyone is happy to see everyone, although behind their backs we are gossiping about how badly we have all aged. As the night wears on and the drinks continue to flow, the flirting begins. I am aware that Brad is making sure to be near me. I am not shunning his attention but I have no intention on acting on them. My inner high school is relishing this attention from a boy who at 16 years old would have laughed at the prospect of dating me. I giggle, I touch, I flirt. I am having fun. But not the kind of fun Brad has in mind. And to his dismay we end the evening with a mediocre hug.
As expected the phone call to ask me out follows the reunion. We don't go out.
A couple of years pass.
Suddenly Brad pops up on my Facebook Private Message. He just wanted to say hi and tell me how beautiful my photos on Facebook are and how he has been thinking about me. Well isn't that sweet. He goes on to say that he really liked me in high school and has thought about me a lot over the years. And now he finds me so intriguing. He wants to know if he can write me a letter telling me his thoughts about me from high school to now.
Well my ego needs to know what he thinks. Although I suspect he barely remembers me from high school, even though there were only 69 kids in my graduating class. I am pretty sure it won't be bad, right? So I tell Brad, go ahead, send me a letter. And I sit back and wait for him to sing my praises.
A few days later the letter arrives. Via email. It starts out sweet enough. Brad tells me he enjoys our friendship and loves to talk to me when we see each other (which has only been twice in many, many years). But then the tone changes. Abruptly he jumps into describing his fantasy night with me. Skipping to the end of a meal we have shared, he writes that 'we can't wait any longer' and return home together. From there the letter takes a turn into horror. Brad goes on to describe our sex in great and grammatically awful detail. He manages to make himself into a sex god and me into the perfect playmate, one who is shy yet somehow knows exactly what to do in bed.
He writes. ' I'm thinking how good it feels to be in you after wondering for so many years what it would feel like. You are uninhibited yet proper and you do not disappoint.' Of course I don't disappoint. But how can I be proper and uninhibited at the same time? It's a quandary. Brad regales me with how long he can last and how quickly he can recover. It's a highly detailed and particularly crude letter. I don't shock very easily but this letter does shock me.
According to Brad after out first lovemaking session has ended, we chat in bed and then moments later he is ready to go again. And go he does. He is a machine. I should be so lucky. He ends the letter trying to inspire me into action. He writes 'It is our desire to explore and explore we do. You are shyly smiling as I say this and after I'm done you say you can't wait to explore with me and that my desires will be fulfilled and more. Our journey into our sexual passion and exploration has only just begun and we have no idea the carnal pleasures that await us as we open up and explore everything our minds and hearts desire.' Really? I am here on earth to fulfill his sexual desires? Yes, I am in!
As I finish reading this letter I am at a loss. What do I do? Should I write back and say, 'Hey, the was an awesome letter, despite the spelling errors and the fact that you called my vagina 'cunt meat', but I am pretty sure there is no way in hell this is ever going to happen between us'. Or should I just say, ' Well thank you but no thank you', which could invite the rebuttal I am trying to avoid. So how do I make a decision? The answer is simple. I forward said letter to a few of my trusted advisers. The votes come back unanimous. I cannot reply at all. I need to shut the door and leave it shut. So I do.
But I am perplexed still. Did Brad think his gruesomely detailed letter would make me come running to him? Did he think this is the way to woo women? Did he think I was put on this earth to sexually satisfy him? Oh Brad, this letter is probably the reason you are still single and have never been married. These kinds of letters only work in movies and Penthouse Forum. Yes, women like sex. Yes, women want sex. No, women do not want to receive letters describing in graphic detail how you are going to put them on all fours to satisfy you own carnal desires. And who the hell uses the word 'carnal'?
So no, I did not respond to Brad. A week later I received another note from him saying he was glad he said what he said. Well I am too Brad. Because on my bucket list of things I want before I die, a gross, poorly worded sex letter has now been checked off. On to the next item on my list. Because after all I am divorced and single.