Dear Vincent, There is more love on the wall, than there are Vincents and than there are fucks.

Tuesday, October, 10, 2018 

Dear Vincent, 

There is more love on the wall, than there are Vincents, and than there are fucks.  You imaginary sandwich rejection email got 155 hits in two days, and four likes on Facebook, and four loves. I recently bought a new shower curtain, and I’m pleased with it.  Mostly I guess I am doing okay, but I miss you.

Love, Erica.

Saturday, October 27, 2018

Dear Vincent,

Happy Saturday!

I slept in until 6:08. Now it is 9:30 and so far I have given myself four orgasms. I feel a bit on edge. 

Maybe because last night I dreamt I hooked up with Simon, and Simon is dead.

Monday is my birthday and though it has been my most creative and lucrative year so far, I feel mournful about a series of vague and specific things.

I finished inhaling The Buddha and the Borderline book, and I'd recommend it. It seems they call it borderline because it means the border of neurotic and psychotic, and I find this deeply unflattering. The author’s happy ending was Buddhism. I tried that in 2008. The book contained a great deal about accepting two opposing truths at the same time.

the buddha & the borderline by Kiera Van Gelder

Last year on my birthday, the Dead Inside Man made me ejaculate on my sister’s living room floor. The next day I puked in my mouth while sucking his cock. What a highlight. This year, there's no fuck in sight as tends to happen. I miss being your one-sided pen pal. I hope your life is beautiful and exquisite.

Love, Erica.

Monday, October 29, 2018

Dear Vincent,

I am walking past your windowless office. It is my 33rd birthday. I am wearing my red raincoat, and calculating how many of the six people I more or less fucked at the age of 32 have sent me birthday wishes. So far I am at 2 out of 6. So 33.33 etc percent. Franklin’s wishes were threefold, but all emoticons. I guess I never told you I hooked up with Franklin. In fact, it was quite stellar. Then they pretty much ghosted.

Love, Erica. Birthday Selfie

Birthday Selfie

Saturday, November 3, 2018

Dear Vincent,

Can you please cure me of the whole thing through one mediocre slobbery kiss and a boring Saturday afternoon lying on the couch watching sports?

Love, Erica.

Monday, November 6, 2018

Dear Vincent,

It was a four-orgasm morning once again.

Though I woke up at 4:51 a.m. without an alarm, it felt like someone had just set off the smoke detector. From ovulation on, I feel like I need drugs. I hope you had a nice weekend. My apartment is not quite as immaculate as it used to be, but almost. I think I will go back to writing you letters on the Internet.

Love, Erica.

Dear Readers,

Please cure me of this whole thing by sending your imaginary emails to me or to Vincent at the secret email address ericaschmidt85(at)gmail(dot)com.

Thanks.

Love, Erica.

The Wizard says, I can't go back, I don't know how it works.

Also, Your Life is of Supreme Importance.

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Twitter: @mypelvicfloor
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Dear Vincent, It seems no matter who I'm having sex with, I ugly cry every other time.

Dear Vincent, Love you. Good-bye.

Dear Vincent, I just had a reasonably life-changing orgasm with a medium-sized yellow zucchini that was on sale in a basket, 5 for $1, on the outskirts of marché Jean Talon.