A Letter To My Ex-Girlfriend

NB: This letter is supposedly written in a drunken state of mind

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O personality of sinful actions!

I’m sorry that I need to write this letter to you, but I really need to do it. As I write to you I’m drinking to my heart’s content in a bar; with my left hand I’m holding a bottle of wine, –my only company at the moment– and with my right hand I’m scribbling and doodling on a piece of paper all the high thoughts which are clouded with sadness over my mind. Believe me; believe everything I write, people here complain that I’m excessively drunk, and that, time has come for me to leave the bar… you see, it’s just 3 o’clock in the morning, and they want me to leave, morons! They are not people, as I see them, they are potatoes… no! They are lizards, no, no they are dragons. Ha ha ha! I’m drunk!  I’m drunk!  Drunk, drunk… drunnnkkk! achoo!  Am I drunk?

I ordered the waitress to pour me the 100th glass of wine a while ago, now she comes, she looks dashing in her attire, three quarter’s full is her face, she is not a potato, she is an angel, and her ruby-red lips tempts me to have a word or two with her. She gives me a wink and is pouring down the wine hesitantly. But why is she hesitating to serve her customer? Perhaps she doesn’t want me to get over drunk; [doesn’t she know I’m over drunk already?] Why is she being caring, does she like me?  I know, she’d like me now but at last she’d turn as knavish as you were. So let me better concentrate on the letter –the words are flying though, or so I see– and not get trapped this time, for I’m already too weak in the heart. Let me pour my blue blue heart out by writing when the lovely waitress pours down the red red wine on my glass. Truth comes out from the heart when a person is drunk, also speaks of love and hate, but truth and only truth a person speaks when chemically imbalanced he is made.

Hold on, let me take a sip, and my mind’s chain let me unzip.

Done.

Ah, yuck! It’s as bitter as you were! Your bitter love and thoughts are running through my heart and spine and brain and… aha… ah… achoo!

What I intend now to say is… is… is… I loved you truly; I liked your smile, your laugh, and your beautiful black glistening eyes, I liked the curl of your hair, I liked the touch of your soft skin, I liked your sexy voice, and I liked your smell, too… I liked everything about you … But you broke my heart, You… You… You… broke my heart! You broke the heart of the greatest literary figure of 21st century, you shall never be forgiven for that, mind you!

Now, a potato comes to me and puts in his hands on the pocket of my Levis jeans, takes out my purse and a wad of thousand rupee notes from it, I say nothing, instead, I give him the rest of the money –coins– I’ve on the other pockets of my pant and shirt.

Am I drunk?

I feel like vomiting and the world seems upside down, I try to move but every time I try, I fall down, and I’m falling down now. A gorgeous young woman is helping me to stand straight by slipping her arms around my hips; I keep staring at her and finally say: ‘chick, I like your boobs, they bounce well.’ As I said that, instead of getting a ‘thank you’ from her, I hear an echoing sound as though someone has slapped someone hard on the face, but who has slapped whom? Now a lizard approaches me, a speaking lizard it is, and utters something like: ‘Don’t beat this man, he is drunk.’ As he speaks he points his finger at me, ah, he’s referring to me, and the wicked woman just slapped me! She is a bitch! But I couldn’t feel any pain; perhaps the wine has made me stronger. Now, I want to see if any damage has occurred to my precious face by the slap of that disgusting woman. Looking at mirror I see: one me, two me, three me, four me, five me, oh! What the fuss is all about? What is happening? I am drunk, drunk, drunk, I am… brmmmmmmppp!

Tell you what. [What?]  Since the time you left me, I’ve realized that I’m a good-looking man with whom many girls want to spend time. You see, love is really blind for it blinded me and I could see no one but you and only you. But, now my eyes are wide open, and I’ve awakened from the deep slumber of your bitter love. And what is this I see? I see everything as I wished they were. Believe me, even Angelina Jolie is saying she’s tired of Brad Pitt, and she’s more than willing to let her children call me their dad. She says she’d help sign me a deal with Warner Bros! That means I’ll be the next Superman of Hollywood.

But, to hell with that life! I don’t want to be with Angelina Jolie or any other girls. I’m a man of integrity, you know. I cannot act like the bollywood’s hitman Emraan Hashmi who asks for sugar from every less seductive girl, and tries to dip his beak in every other girl.

How are you? How is your new love? Caught a big fish this time, eh? Hope you’ve told him that you would love him till the end of your life just like you told me once. This perhaps you’ve said to gazillion of other guys foolish enough to have fallen for you. Tell me; tell me, what magic spell did you whisper this time? Hope your new love is from a wealthy family, unlike me. I’m sure he can take you to expensive theatre and buy popcorn for you every now and then; he can give you treats at McDonalds on a daily basis, buy ice-cream for you as and when you demand. Wish I was in a position to take care of all your whims and fancies. I apologize.

Did you give him all those nicknames by which you used to call me: My baby, my bacha, my janu, my shonu, my darling, my golu, etcetera, and etcetera?

Do warn your new love not to glance at any other girls passing by; let him behave as saintly as possible.  He should receive the same treatment as I did. Now, I have known being possessive is your birthright and known that ‘possessiveness’ is a word solely reserved for you; don’t worry, I’ll never interfere in your matters as you’re not mine anymore, but for sure you can interfere with my life as much as you want, for I’m still slightly yours. I’ve learnt to let anger live and die within me without letting it outburst (thanks to the anger management book I’ve read recently), I can now swallow my anger for I’ve known the outcome of a decision one makes while one is angry is always devastating. However, don’t think that I want you back. No, no, I don’t.

A person can get used to anything. As they say, time heals everything. Only in the beginning it seems painful, but when a person starts drinking (just like me) it is not going to be painful for the rest of a person’s life. Wine keeps me rocking all of the time nowadays. I know, your memory won’t be erased entirely in such a short period of time, but the more I drink the more it helps.  With more massive hangovers I’ll be able to abandon your thoughts from my mind

Hey Honey, how are you? How is your new love? Do you think I’m drunaaaaak?

So how are you ……? Who am I…?

BRETHREN, FRIENDS, COUNTRYMEN, AND FELLOW SUBJECTS NEVER EVER LOVE A BITCH!

Signing off,

Yours but not yours,

The King of the world

 

Copyright © 2012 RAMU DAS

20 thoughts on “A Letter To My Ex-Girlfriend

  1. Capital…..Capital. Great! The Italian high command is fed up with the sleep mode men. Now she is looking for drunken-mode. So get ready for an imported girlfriend. Your next address is …..Capital…Capital !!! :-D

  2. Haye Raba ! 100th glass, hunh?! Lol. Hmm…thank God – Mukesh was not playing whilst sipping or in your case gobbling the bottle ! **Sigh** ! Interesting post (no, not your pain but the writing !). Cheers Ramu.

    • Ten thousand cheers to you, Mi’lady!
      By ‘Mukesh’ do you mean the mongoose or the water-buffalo? :P

      Thanks for enjoying my drunken experience :) Hope to hear from you again soon.

  3. Awesome blog.l enjoyed reading your posts and your thoughts,Thank you for liking my posts.Have a wonderful day.jalal

  4. Ramu.it is delightful that you like my Quote(Money…) wishing you wonderful holidays,jalal

  5. l take this opportunity to wish you a healthy ,happy and successful new year.l appreciate your friendship across the internet.With respect jalal

  6. Creative, witty, sad, funny and entertaining, A Letter to My Ex-Girlfriend is so original, it nearly commands its own category.This is the first piece I have read by you Mr. Man, but if this is any indication of what you are made of, you are one helluva talented writer. Off to read more.

    • Haha! Thanks for the comment. It made me feel better. But, I’m sure, if you analyze my writing critically, you will surely come across some flaws. So, I’m just learning… I like the word “helluva” you’ve used here.

      I have read one post of yours, which, I must say, was excellently written. Surely, I’ll read more of your posts.

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