Girl, while it has been almost two years since we broke apart, not a second goes by that you are not on my mind. As I have written many times in my column, the thought of you spending time naked next to this other man has caused me nothing but pain. You are my everything, girl. If we were to get back together now, we could win various awards for the ways we would sex each other up. You know this.
Why, then, would I receive a letter asking me to attend your upcoming wedding to this man? This man who is no good for you. This man who can only get into one tenth of the hottest clubs I can. This man who you admit focuses only on heart-healthy dishes, while I had seduced your body and mind by creating the most sumptuous dishes known to this world. Is this how you want to live?
Also, I have decided to write my response to you in this column, as there was not room on the reply card to say all that was in my heart, the heart that has been breaking ever since you left.
When I first opened the letter, I sank to my knees and cried out your name as loud as I could. Then, I began to break into gentle sobs while uttering your name in a softer and softer voice. Soon, I was on the floor, unable to move because of the great pain of knowing you were marrying this other man. It was a pain that was too much for even Smoove to bear.
I assumed you had written me a note telling me you could not stand another minute without me. In my mind, I saw the writing, clear as day:
Come to my apartment and take me now.
Your One True Girl.”
Reading that, or any variation on it, would have caused me to jump into my gleaming white Mercedes and drive right to your house where I would have made sweet love to you until the break of dawn. Afterward, we would have laughed over how silly it was when we were not together. We would have had many tender moments like that between the sexing, which would have occurred all night long. Also, I would have brought desserts from the finest mail-order catalogs. We could have eaten them after we freaked.
But baby, instead I received an invitation to a wedding with you and this man who buys you shoes that do not make your butt stick out in an appealing manner. Do you not remember when Smoove would buy you shoes, dresses, and occasionally belts, all meant to accentuate your many curves, of which you have many? Especially the booty part of the curves?
Damn, girl, I would give anything to have you here right now riding my pony. Let me give it to you. Just one last time. You know I would break you off nasty. Girl, I have been in a constant state of grief and despair. I have done little but sit in my plush, fur-lined chair in front of the fireplace and stare off into space. My pain is like that of Romeo watching another man marry Juliet right in front of him. There are many star-crossed lovers who have been in similar situations, but my pain is worse because it is real.
I have even broken the Jodeci disc that I played the first night you and I consummated this universe-smashing love. You can see how upset I was. At this point, I should let you know that before I go to sleep in my luxurious round bed every night, I cry out, “Why did you leave me, baby?!” If I were to attend your wedding, I can’t say that I would not do the same thing during the reading of the vows.
All I ask is that you give me one more chance to make you love me again and remind you what kind of a man Smoove B is. I will wear my finest white silk suit and craft with the greatest care a light dinner, or, if you prefer, snacks. We would drink imported coffee from my finest mugs and laugh about the old days. At times, I would get serious and explain why I am the only man for you. If the moment seemed right, I would kiss you and take off your shirt.
I could also light our desserts on fire. You would be impressed by the elegant presentation.
You are my chocolate princess, and I don’t think I can live in a world without your loving arms. Let me feel them around me again. Let me get close so I can do that thing to your neck that I know you like.
I have composed a song about our love. Please keep in mind that, since I can’t play an instrument, I would have to sing it to you unaccompanied, but the feelings will be true. You will not be able to keep from crying, knowing that the pain inside me is real.
Please let me know your decision on this as soon as you can. The same goes for when you decide to call off your wedding.
Until then, know this: I love you, girl.
Smoove B resides in the city of Cincinnati, OH, in a 10th-floor penthouse. He is a regular guest contributor at the Cincinnati Learning Annex, where he teaches the popular six-week course, “The Fundamentals Of Relationship Communication.” From 1998–2001, he wrote, produced, and starred in a semi-regular cable-access cooking show that focused on breakfast.