Hot Lard Relationship Help- The Best Makeup Letter Ever

We here at Hot Lard like to think we have a heart. A big fat sloppy heart that we like to share with others.Β  I believe we shine brightest when we work with others on their relationships and how to keep them going. But unfortunately there are times when a relationship does fall apart no matter how hard you try. But after some time the bitter feelings you have for one another starts to fade and the love you felt starts to resurface. But most males find it hard to set down and write their feelings out to share with their woman.

So we here at Hot Lard have searched the Internet and found what we beloved to be the best, “Makeup Letter” ever written and would like to share it with you. If we can help just one broken hearted couple mend their relationship, then the whole 30 second we spent on Google looking for this was worth it.

Good luck,

The best makeup letter ever written:

Dear Connie,

I know the counselor said we shouldn’t contact each other during our
“cooling off” period, but I couldn’t wait anymore. The day you left, I
swore I’d never talk to you again. But that was just the wounded
little boy in me talking. Still, I never wanted to be the first one to
make contact.

In my fantasies, it was always you who would come crawling back to me.
I guess my pride needed that. But now I see that my pride’s cost me a
lot of things. I’m tired of pretending I don’t miss you. I don’t care
about looking bad anymore. I don’t care who makes the first move as
long as one of us does.

Maybe it’s time we let our hearts speak as loudly as our hurt. And
this is what my heart says: “There’s no one like you, Connie.” I look
for you in the eyes and breasts of every woman I see, but they’re not
you. They’re not even close. Two weeks ago, I met this girl at
Flamingos and brought her home with me. I don’t say this to hurt you,
but just to illustrate the depth of my desperation. She was young,
maybe 19; with one of those perfect bodies that only youth and maybe a
childhood spent ice skating can give you. I mean, just a perfect body.
Tits like you wouldn’t believe and an ass that just wouldn’t quit.
Every man’s dream, right? But as I sat on the couch being blown by
this stunner, I thought, look at the stuff we’ve made important in our
lives. It’s all so superficial.

What does a perfect body mean? Does it make her better in bed? Well,
in this case, yes, but you see what I’m getting at. Does it make her a
better person? Does she have a better heart than my moderately
attractive Connie?

I doubt it. And I’d never really thought of that before.

I don’t know, maybe I’m just growing up a little. Later, after I’d
tossed her about a half a pint of throat yogurt, I found myself
thinking, “Why do I feel so drained and empty?” It wasn’t just her
flawless technique or her slutty, shameless hunger, but something
else.

Some nagging feeling of loss. Why did it feel so incomplete? And then
it hit me. It didn’t feel the same because you weren’t there to watch.
Do you know what I mean?

Nothing feels the same without you. Connie, I’m just going crazy
without you. And everything I do just reminds me of you. Do you
remember Carol, that single mom we met at the Holiday Inn lounge last
year? Well, she dropped by last week with a pan of lasagna. She said
she figured I wasn’t eating right without a woman around. I didn’t
know what she meant till later, but that’s not the real story.

Anyway, we had a few glasses of wine and the next thing you know,
we’re banging away in our old bedroom. And this tart’s a total monster
inthe sack. She’s giving me everything, you know, like a real woman
does when she’s not hung up about her weight or her career and whether
the kids can hear us. And all of a sudden, she spots that tilting
mirror on your grandmother’s old vanity. So she puts it on the floor
and we straddle it, right, so we can watch ourselves. And it’s totally
hot, but it makes me sad, too. Cause I can’t help thinking, “Why
didn’t Connie ever put the mirror on the floor? We’ve had this old
vanity for what, 14 years, and we never used it as a sex toy.”

Saturday, your sister drops by with my copy of the restraining order.
I mean, Vicky’s just a kid and all, but she’s got a pretty good head
on her shoulders and she’s been a real friend to me during this
painful time. She’s given me lots of good advice about you and about
women in general. She’s pulling for us to get back together, Connie,
she really is.

So we’re doing Jell-O shots in a hot bubble bath and talking about
happier times. Here’s this teenage girl with the same DNA as you and
all I can do is think of how much she looked like you when you were
18. And that just about makes me cry. And then it turns out Vicky’s
really into the whole anal thing, That gets me to thinking about how
many times I pressured you about trying it and how that probably
fueled some of the bitterness between us. But do you see how even
then, when I’m thrusting inside your baby sister’s cinnamon ring, all
I can do is think of you?

It’s true, Connie. In your heart you must know it. Don’t you think we
could start over? Just wipe out all the grievances away and start
fresh? I think we can.

If you feel the same please, please, please let me know. Otherwise,
can you let me know where the fucking remote is?

Love,

Dan

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