A Dear John Letter for Jeff

"Honey, I'm not stupid. I went a bit insane awhile back, and made a stupid mistake. Ok, I was stupid then, very stupid. I'm responsible for that, and I accept the consequences. Dad and I have talked about it, and what he told me is right. Just like we always taught you, I made a choice, I left the relationship, I accept the consequences."

The boys looked at me to follow up. I had nothing to add, so I sat there smiling and sipping a delightful local Australian ale.

"C'mon Dad, Mom answered the question, do we get to hear from you?"

"Boys, you should be happy we didn't spend the week here making snide hurtful comments demeaning each other. I hear that's what divorced couples do at events like this. Beyond that, I think what you are asking falls generally in the realm of my love life, and that is out of bounds. Didn't I teach you not to kiss and tell? So why would I?"

"But Dad, you love Mom! We can all see that. And we are both old enough to know what it means for a girl to tell you she wants to be just friends. So without giving me nightmares and bad pictures of your love life, just tell us, are you and Mom friendly beyond being just friends."

"Son, with our history, if we are friendly, it will always be beyond being just friends. She's the love of my life, the mother of my children, and the best friend I ever had. It's one of those things we humans just can't turn on and off at will. Beyond that, there is no answer I can give you, because that part of our life story is unwritten."

We talked a while more, then went up to our rooms. I had just slipped into pajamas when there was a knock on the door. It was Ellen. I let her in. We went to bed. She thanked me for the first class upgrade. Before I even breathing returned to normal she began thanking me for a wonderful week Then she thanked me for making my daughter's wedding an event we approached as a couple. I was totally exhausted from accepting thanks, when she thanked me for what I told the boys in the lounge. She stayed for breakfast, which I ordered from room service.

The trip home was dreamy. We arrived at my house, and before she left she gave me a deep kiss.

"I want you know, that I am here for you for whatever you want, whenever you want. Someplace along the line, I forgot why I loved you. Someplace in the routine of being a grown up I forgot how much I loved you. Leaving you was the biggest mistake I could ever make. I threw away the most precious thing I could ever have. Hurting you will always be the biggest regret of my life, and I wish I could just turn back the clock. Whatever, whenever, just let me know. Want a friend to play tennis? Call me. Need a roadie? Groupie? Back up singer? I'm your girl. Need a lover? I'm your woman. Have sex, abuse me, make love to me, I'm there. Need a meal made, I'll cook. I'll clean, fold your laundry, do dishes and windows. I will never ask or expect exclusivity, I know I gave that up. But if you ever ask, the answer is yes. Friend, girl friend, mistress, lover, wife, just ask. Thanks for being so....so...so you! You are wonderful, and if you someday decide to settle with someone else, count on me letting her know what she has, and that she had better make you happy, or I'll be waiting."

"That's really sweet of you Ellen. I have been so happy we've been able to get close again. I'm just not sure I'm comfortable hanging labels on us. I don't know where we are going, I'm just happy we are going there together at least part of the time. I spent all my life living with women, and usually doing their bidding. First my mom and sister, then right after college marrying you. I kind of enjoy living in a home where I determined the colors and the level of clutter. I enjoy cooking my own food the way I like it, and having the fridge full of my favorites. I love playing in the band, and I confess it's been good to have an open sex life. I don't plan on changing that soon. Do you remember the note I wrote responding to your letter?"

"Yes. You said I was right, thanked me, and said goodbye. You didn't even sign it 'Love.'"

"I meant every word in that note. You were right, we were stale, and needed a change. The thank you and goodbye were heartfelt. Anything about 'love' would have been out of line and shallow. Any thing else I could say would have either just been spiteful or would have made me seem like a begging whining wuss. I'm not very good at any of that. So I wrote what needed to be written and stopped."

"What needs to be written now, Tom?"

"Not a thing. I've showed you everything you need to know."

"Yes, you have. You've showed me that you care. You showed me you still find me attractive, and sexy even. You showed me you want me. You stand by me where the children are concerned. You've shown you love me more than a casual lover, enough even to share dinner and breakfast. You enjoy my company enough to date me. You respect me, and our history enough to upgrade me to first class, pay for our daughter's wedding completely without asking a cent from me, and to declare to our sons that I'm the love of our life. The only thing that seems to be missing is a more full time role, being your wife. I want you to know I understand that, and will never press you on that topic. I know I gave that right away. But understand that if you ever choose to ask, the answer is "yes" in advance, and I'll be praying every day of my life for the chance to say it."

She kissed me goodnight.

Sure, I considered what she said. But come on, get real! I am indeed pussy whipped, so why stop at one? I had the world in my hands, my own home, my kids were grown, financial comfort, an ex wife dedicated to getting me back who by her own admission would do anything anytime, a fit body and all my hair, a combination of a hot band and a Harley, and a never ending supply of women who wanted to jump on the back of my bike and ride of to an after party and put big and powerful things between their legs. Oh sure, I loved Ellen enough, and their was that thing about someone to share the golden years with, but really. Maybe I'd change my mind when we turned 60, but not now. I didn't write "Dear Jeff," so I didn't feel responsible for the aftermath. I had forgiven her, I had made up with her, I had my life in order.

So I picked up the phone and called that buxom blonde who climbed on the Harley after the street festival and became my first post divorce fuck. She giggled into the phone when I asked her if she was serious about never calling her again. She assured me she was ok and walking again, and invited me to come right over.

Even as I fired up the Harley to ride over to her place I knew someday I'd ask Ellen to marry me again. But this was not that day.