“A woman one loves rarely suffices for all our needs, so we deceive her with another whom we do not love.” Proust
My lovely wife the Chesty Blonde does not bear the name that has been named above. The letter is not written in her hand however before you decide I am a treacherous philanderer who as Proust so rightly claims I may have deceived to fulfill my needs in the torrid company of another it seems only fitting to point out but one simple fact. The woman hand delivered the other woman’s note to me herself. In fact she read it to me giggling before she began. So while the modern love note lacks classic French romanticism and fails to live up to the poetic imagery of Valentines day, and cupid it does one thing beautifully and that states the obvious.
Of course she misses me…as for my balls well that is another story entirely. A damn funny one at that.