Dear Bill,
Thought I’d drop you a line to let you know how things are with me. You may remember Jessica, that girl I was seeing? I think you met her when last you came down for the weekend. Well, the simple truth is, we’re not together anymore. It’s a bit hard to know where to begin. I think I told you that we were going through a rough patch. It always seems to happen; after about three months or so the great initial passion wears off and then you’re down to learning what it’s really all about.
Well, without boring you with
all
the gory details, part of the problem was sex. It wasn’t that she didn’t like it, she did, loved it, in fact. It was sort of more complicated than that. Now look, I’m as broad minded as the next man and when she said we needed to spice things up a bit I was all for it. Anyway, she started buying these books and downloading stuff off the net. At first it was fun. I drew the line at the goatskin underpants but I didn’t really mind being tied up. I could quite get used to a bit of bondage, if I’m honest, although thirty-six hours is a little long for me.
No, things stared to go wrong when she introduced the whipped cream and strawberries. She put on about ten pounds in a week and I got so drained I swear my cheeks were hollow. Then she wanted to shave my nuts. I said OK, being a sport. When she produced this sodding great cutthroat razor, I wasn’t quite so keen. I tell you, one slip and I’d have been eligible for the Vienna Boys’ Choir! So there I was with the old wedding tackle as naked as a jaybird, apart from the Band-Aids, and she insists I put on this Superman outfit. I had to climb on top of the wardrobe and ‘swoop down on her.’ That was the plan at least. Cheap home-assembly junk isn’t all that strong. Needless to say, the whole bloody issue collapsed and I ended up on the floor in agony. I mean a joke’s a joke but splinters in the arse – that’s furniture!