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The bottom line is, as much as I would like to get to know her better and spend more time with her, it’s just not meant to be. It would never work out. I suppose I’ll always have some sort of affection for her, as beautiful, sexy, and smart as she is, and I’ll always feel a little protective too, but no good could possibly come of our continued playing around. And the same goes for the other guys. We’re just not what she’s looking for. Sure, she got her Big O and all, but she doesn’t want to be with a bunch of jocks fromSports, Inc.
Problem is, I have a feelingshemight be whatweguys are looking for.
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44
AVA
Guys:
Jasper, Ethan, and Leo. I imagine you guys, on this Sunday morning, either sleeping in or in varying stages of whatever it is you do on a normal Sunday—Jasper, recovering from a night of drinking with my crazy brother; Ethan, taking Trudy and George out for their weekend errands; and Leo, editing and perfecting the magazine’s photos because five days in a workweek are never enough.
Myself, I am writing this in bed instead of sitting by the front window in my infamous green easy chair because I need some privacy, which is not available at the moment with my brother and Jasper lurking around the kitchen, burning toast and recapping their night out on the town. They’ll be going out soon enough to brunch or something, and I’ll have the apartment to myself again.
I’ve had some time to think these last days, and by think, I mean really dig into the depths of where I think my place in this universe is, as opposed to where I want it to be. I’m too young for a mid-life crisis, so maybe this is a young-life crisis?
As you might imagine, I’ve been thinking about us and our little posse… and that we’re less Four Musketeers and more mismatched Ben & Jerry’s flavors that never managed to make the supermarket shelves.
I’m not saying you guys aren’t the best—you truly are. You’ve done so much for me, not least of which is restore my confidence in my sexuality. At the risk of sounding cheesy, I not only feel like a new woman, I am one. For the longest time I was afraid an orgasm was an elusive fantasy for me, something that happened for other women that wasn’t quite within my reach. Odd, I know, given my profession. Yet here I am.
While I wasn’t happy to find you’d learned my darkest, most personal secret, I do respect and appreciate how you went about making sure I was able to tackle it in the safest, sanest way possible. God knows who I would have ended up with had I followed Cami’s suggestion to just pursue a Craigslist hookup. Yikes.
You’ve shown me that being with three guys can be sexy, fun, and at times, like playing a game of four-person Twister. But I’ve come to realize it’s time to put our little game on pause, as much as I hate to say it.
Jasper, I can’t keep you from being the New York master of the universe you are. There are so many women in New York ready and waiting to steal your heart, you mustn’t waste your time on me. Ethan, you have been beyond lovely, but your moodiness is not something I want to deal with on a regular basis. It’s just too stressful for sensitive me, and you deserve a girl who knows who the Knicks are, anyway. And Leo, sweet Leo, I totally get your motivations for working day and night, but with a schedule like that, you surely don’t have time for anyone else, much less me.
So, my dear boys, it’s time we all fly solo. Know that each of you holds a special place in my heart. This decision wasn’t made lightly and surely wasn’t influenced by the hot UPS guy who visits theGlistenoffice every day (kidding!).
My final hope is that just because our play sessions are coming to an end, it doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends, share a laugh or a beer, and attend the occasional trivia night where you get your asses whooped by the real sports experts. Sorry, couldn’t resist that!
In the end, remember, it’s me. Not you.
With all the affection I can cram in a too-long email.
Your girl,
Ava
Ugh.This is the lamest Dear John letter in the history of Dear Johns. On the other hand, I’m not ending anything that ever really got started, so calling it a Dear John is kind of flattering myself, and not in a good way.
And the situation I’ve gotten myself into with the guys is hardly anything to create drama around, anyway. I mean, we all got what we wanted, right? Some sexy time for all of us, and many nice orgasms for me. They got off, I got off, end of story. No harm, no foul, to use one of the only sports sayings I know.
All that’s left for me now is to find a way to spin my story into an article about my first Big O without letting on that my true sexual ‘initiation’ happened only recently.Veryrecently. Doing that should be easy, but that’s probably what Danny thought when he was stealing Martha Stewart’s recipes and passing them off as his own.
Gulp.
I have considered, for a moment, just telling the truth to myGlistenreaders. But then how would that go over for someone (me) who’s been positioned as an expert on all things relationship and sexual? I’d think, and surely the rest of the world would agree, that one can’t be any kind of expert when she can’t achieve her own climax, the ultimate end goal of a sexual encounter.
I clickprintso I can look over a hard copy of my letter before sending it into the email inboxes of my three lovers.
Former lovers.
I poke my head out my bedroom door. The guys left a while ago, but don’t want to take any chances on running into either of them. I don’t need my brother to distract me, nor Jasper’s piercing blue eyes to weaken me to the point where I lose all resolve.
While the printer is click-clicking in my room, I peek out the front window behind my green chair, where I wish I’d been sitting all along. It’s a gorgeous Sunday morning, so I throw on my sweats and sneakers and head out for a coffee and the couple errands I can carry out today, on a day when a lot of things in the city are closed.
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