I dated a woman who loved the “dirty” cell phone text chats. From time to time I’d receive a random text beckoning:
“Tell me something dirty.”
Jim: Hmmm…something dirty?
Girl: YES…something dirty!
Jim: I want to f**k you.
Girl: Uh, you’re a WRITER…I meant write something sexy and suggestively dirty, using your writing skills silly.
Jim: The driving rain casts a hypnotic tympani on the roof as I lay in this bed tonight. Nature’s spectacular show is punctuated by brief streaks of lightening tracing the midnight sky, illuminating your beautiful face in a soft electric blue glow. Thunder fills the air with a commanding, yet mysterious, percussive rattle on the window panes…reminding me that I really want to f**k you...right now.
Girl: Uh...Never mind. I’ll be over in a few minutes.
Jim: Can we have sex???
I don't know the first thing about writing a love note but a few years ago I decided to give it a pencil stab for someone special after a small disagreement. Translation: I likely said something dumb.
This is a writing exercise that my editor, my mother, my friends and any number of my college professors would have referred to as a "recipe for disaster.
My dearest sweetheart,
I'm fully aware that I would, of course, NEVER speak that way in real life but I figured it to be inappropriate to begin a love note with ""Whassup?"
The primary reason that I opted to craft a personal love note revolves around my refusal to purchase a $4-dollar card just because I said something dumb. I'd go broke in that eventuality.
Actually, I usually throw cards away after I read them anyway...or when a woman breaks up with me, whichever comes first.
I deeply hope that you might find it possible to forgive as I'm quite thrilled that you like to watch football and do not force me to cuddle after sex. I also love that thing you do when you bend your upper torso downward from the side of the bed.
Actually I love numerous things about you, including the fact that you're not afraid to take a long road trip with me even though (according to a magazine article that I recently read) I fit the primary demographic and socioeconomic profile as that of a serial killer.
By the way, I would never chop you up and bury you under a heap of lyme and sod in a vacant field located miles from a state highway near a rural town in Arkansas.
What I truly want to tell you can't be fully conveyed on paper because there are, in fact, so many things that I love about our time together which would be better conveyed via 2 for 1 margaritas at Loco Libre on State street.
always,
Jim
Since I've officially given up on Hallmark, I'm gonna send some writing samples to that candy company that sells those little hearts which have the consistency of blackboard chalk, with a slight minty taste. Here's my first draft:
copyright Pontchartrain Press 2015
