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Rules | Entry Summaries | First Round Rankings | Elimination Round!

PREFACE

JUNE 27, 2000:

Dearest Cindy,

It's nice talking to you again. I have missed you so much! I know you are married now and I hope all is well. Not too well, though. I still dream that we will be together some day. When I say not too well, I only mean that I hope your husband dies or that you
divorce him. I'm joking, of course, but I would like to be there for you. Whatever chance I might have had with you I let slip by long ago. I will regret that forever. Today I even bought you an engagement ring. It was an impulsive and stupid thing to do. I just
couldn't help myself. On the way home from the jewelry store I bought these journals. It is an entire collection of hardbound editions. I don't know how long I will write in them. Maybe it was just another impulse buy to help me get over my buyers remorse over the ring. I just can't stop thinking of you. My life is standing still. If anyone knew that
I had bought this ring for a married woman who I had never even touched or spoken to in years, they would surely nominate me for committal. It is crazy, I know. I can't help the way I feel. Every night when I go to bed I say a prayer and ask God to bring you to
me. I wish I could at least find happiness with someone else. But no one compares to you. At least they don't compare to my memory of you. Sometimes I still wonder how much is real and how much I made up.

Do you remember that night we sat at your house and I played you that song on your parents organ that I wrote for my dead friend, Leonard? It was just another night, I know. But it was another night I fell deeper in love with you. We even slept in the
same bed that night, but I was so afraid to touch you. The last thing I ever wanted to do was scare you away. Now you are gone anyway. All I have is this ring and these journals. I hope your husband knows how lucky he is...or that he dies. Either way I will be here when you need me. Hopefully someone will come along and steal my heart. In the meantime, you are all I see. I will try and write you again tomorrow. I have a feeling this is going to turn into an everyday thing. It sure makes me feel closer to you.
I love you.



REALITY CHECK

July 21, 2007: Good morning Cindy, I'm waking up to another sun-drenched day. The weather sure has been great. I have been cleaning house all morning. You should see me. I am so domesticated. I even made my bed! I wish you were here so I could make you breakfast. I miss you. I am feeling very needy today. I wish you were here. I love you.

Another day and another journal entry logged. Friends, and that pesky little voice in my head, tell me to get over it. I really should. It's been what, twenty years? Well, I'm 38 and this happened when I was 18, so 20 years is as close as anything to the truth. And for the past seven years I have kept a daily journal that I dedicate to her. I'm a pathetic looser, I know, but this is just one of those things that won't let me go.

Her name is Cindy. I met her when I was 16 and if Icould find anyone that came close to her inpersonality and character I would end this journal andmy loneliness. But that, it seems, is less likelyevery day. Let me go back to the start of all of thisand try to make some sense of it.

Skipping the lengthy, if not boring, details of my childhood, let me start in my youth foster home. That is where the state places kids too old or too ugly for
adoption. After going through all the poor families in my county, my caseworker found this well-off bunch for me to stay with in the neighboring county and they
even had a cottage on the lake! I remember being so excited about our first trip up there.

On this trip they had me digging out their crawl space to add a basement. This meant one shovel of Michigan sand after the other, hauled out and dumped by
wheelbarrow. If you have ever dug through a wall of beach sand you know the disheartening feeling of working hard at going nowhere. You put the shovel in
the wall and it fills with sand. You pull the shovel out and sand fills back the space you just dug. After forty shovels of this and two wheelbarrows of sand, you have made zero progress. It's sort of like sex without the orgasm. Well, without the touchy feely
fun part too. On second thought, it's not like sex at all. Well, except for the sweaty, heavy breathing...and the coughing, sore back, and blistered hands. Ok, it
is nothing like sex. More like back breaking thankless work. I just had sex on my mind. When you are 16 is there anything else, really?

After 15 hours of digging I received permission to fish. Four bass and two pike later I decided I was home. Then back to 12 more hours of digging in the self-filling hole. After that weekend we went back to the house and mixed concrete for a dog run. Hey, it
was summer vacation and this is when you got these things done.

On one of our trips up to the work farm; I mean cottage, I met Cindy. Her folks had a cabin across the road from us. I remember being told she was a model for some clothing manufacturer. To this day I have never asked her about it. I can certainly
believe it though. She was gorgeous. I would like to tell you that I remember the exact moment I met her. I saw fireworks and got sweaty. From my heart racing to my sudden goose bumps I thought I was having the youngest stroke on record. But none of that
happened. At some point we must have been introduced, but I can't find it in my memory banks. My memory has never been that good; hence the journal.

I do remember we became friends almost at once. I never considered anything more, just as I don't expect to be named Peoples Sexiest Man Alive. She was just too beautiful. Not just for me, for anyone! So I should take this opportunity to say that I have never
held her hand, kissed her lips, or even told her the way I feel. That is sad for someone that pines so hard for someone, but typical for my defeatist leanings. When it comes to regrets and bad moves I am somewhat scholarly.

I will say that she has beauty beyond all other women. Maybe not in the classical voluptuous definition, but in my thoughts there is her and everyone else. She
has this smile that all others are judged by. There is a way that her nose connects to her upper lip and spreads into a smile that, to this day, I still see traces of in other women. When I do, it stops me. I find myself talking to them and searching for more traces of Cindy. Then when I realize that their smile is all they have in common with her, I remember what a fool I was to let her get away and I walk away deflated.

At the time we were mostly drinking buddies really. That may seem off for 16 year olds, but at the time it seemed not only natural, sort of expected. Nights up north were filled with drinking and pot smoking. If the weather was nice, we had a fire on the beach. If it was bad, we sat around the table while the folks were at the local bar. At either place we had lots to drink and smoke. One of my most treasured memories of her is the night we stole the beer. Everyone had gone on a cigarette run. This left Cindy and I alone with
the beer. That left us way too much time to drink and think. Well , they seemed to be gone a bit too long. After drinking and thinking too much we decided to get
back at them...for what, I still don't know. We took the last case of beer and headed for the beach. We were loading it into the boat when they pulled up and
caught us in the middle of our nonsensical revenge. We pushed the boat into the lake and I began yanking on that old pull-start outboard trying desperately to hasten our getaway. About the time the engine caught, they were on shore and throwing empty bottles at us.
As we powered deeper into the lake bottles were busting on the sides of the boat and splashing in the water next to us. I felt like James Bond saving the beautiful girl while keeping the world safe from...ummmm...well, those drunken guys who are pissed at
us for stealing the beer. We made it to the center of the small lake and sat there drinking and talking until she puked. Good times.

She was a trooper. I have always been an early riser. Even if I drink until two, I am up by six in the morning. And I could always go and tap on Cindy's bedroom window and get her up for fishing. Oh, she would bitch about the hour and piss and moan about her
head hurting and the sunshine. Blah, blah, blah. "Are you gonna share the doobie or bitch? At least share the doobie and bitch." To this day, she is the only woman I have met that I can call a stupid, lazy, fat, bitching cow, that is not offended. It's a hard quality to find.

Unlike so many other women I have known, she gets the joke. Even more than that, she creates the joke. Women and comedy go together like church and porno. Cindy is different. It's like having the preacher showing dirty homemade projector slides and the
congregation rolling. She comes up with crazy shit that makes me laugh so hard it hurts. Who else can pass a dead chicken on the road, slam on the brakes, and stop to give it a decent funeral while the farmer looks on in bewilderment? Cindy can.

At the time I thought, this is cool. One day I will meet some one like this who isn't so damn pretty and I will fall in love. I can't wait until that happens. In the meantime I am just going to keep on partying and, to my credit, enjoy every moment I get with her.
Every second was a treasure. It is those memories that haunt and keep me going at the same time. I will say, if you ever experience joy so great with someone, don't let her go. I wish I would have confessed my love right then. I blame youth and stupidity. The
drinking and pot smoking might have played a roll in all of this. But even, if and when, she had turned me down at least I would have known. Perhaps I wouldn't be writing in this stupid journal every day and telling her how much I love her. I'm sure that even
if she liked me that way too, I would have screwed it up by now. Youth is wasted on the young, for certain.


Life is unfair sometimes. I'm ready now, Cindy. I wasn't then. I'm all grown up now. I have learned so much. There are so many things I need to share with you...you fat, lazy, stupid cow! Quit chewing your cud for one damn second and give me a chance to prove it.






CHAPTER ONE




That is where I was until three weeks ago. Then
everything changed. My dreams came true...at least for
one day. One perfect day and all the longing ended.
That is when she came back. In the midst of
depression and loneliness, she brought me back to the
world of joy. If only for a day, it was enough,
enough of a day to change me forever. This is what
happened on a beautiful Saturday morning.

I had just finished making my second pot of coffee.
My three o'clock pot had worn off and it was nearly
seven. I was staring at my journal sitting next to
the T.V. and thinking about my good morning entry I
had written to Cindy at about 3:05 that day and was
seriously contemplating my looserness status in this
world, when there came a knocking; a knocking at me
chamber door. Who the fuck is here this early? I am
lucky to get one unexpected guest per year. For
someone to be here this early and uninvited, it could
only mean Jehovah sent them.

So I go to the door with my defenses on high.
Preparing my, this is a house of Christ, comment in my
head, I cleared my throat to make sure my morning
voice didn't falter. This would have ruined my
commanding tone. I didn't need that. So with coffee
cup in hand I opened the door with an exaggerated
whoosh and faced my adversary.

There she was. For so long I had wondered if she had
changed. Of course she had, but how much? Even if
she is fat I will still love her. Hey, my body was
better then ever, but even if she is a fat cow I will
still love her. Of course that would have ruined the
fat cow jokes, but that's a small price to pay for
happiness.

She hadn't changed. Oh, her hair was shorter, but
that was it. That smile was still a thing of dreams!
It came to her face so naturally and perfect, I froze.
This wasn't right. My mind was trying to grapple
with her standing in my doorway. For so long I had
dreamed of this moment, but now that it was actually
here it was nothing like my fantasies. In my dreams I
said something like, Oh, You again? Gosh, don't you
ever go away? I would offer you something to eat, but
you're like a stray fucking cat! If I feed you,
you'll never leave! Now I know this may seem odd, but
that is just our banter. The fact that she would find
that funny is one of the many reasons I love her so
much.

Instead I froze. I never freeze! I never have
nothing to say. I just stood there trying to take it
all in and smash, my coffee dup dropped to the floor.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were having a
coffee cup smashing party. I'll come back when things
settle down," she chided.

"Hey, the party was just winding down. You can stay!"
OK, it wasn't the perfect come back, but it was
better then my intro. We were both laughing...and
smiling. I opened the door, listening to it crunch
over debris, and stepped onto the porch and hugged
her.

She held me back tighter then I expected. "Wow, I
can't believe you're here!" I said, through a cracked
and high-pitched voice I didn't recognize.

She pulled back and said, "Oh, I heard about your
speech problems, combined with your small penis, life
sure has been cruel to you."

While still holding onto each other's forearms I
started laughing. I couldn't stop. She had changed
a bit...she had gotten funnier! As if it were possible,
her humor had somehow ascended. Even though I was
still blown away by her visit and nearly speechless,
she didn't miss a beat. Of course she was prepared
for this visit more then I was, but still, she was
perfect in every way. My mind was searching for
something funny to say. Thoughts ricocheted in my
head, but nothing stuck. Hell, I could barely
breathe, let alone come up with something funny to
say. I'm always funny! It is expected. I had
nothing. Then, the only thing that struck me to say
was, "About time you got here!" It wasn't perfect, by
any means, but it made her smile.

One moment I was writing to her in The Cindy Journal,
like all days, and the next I was holding her in my
arms! This was going to be a good day.

We hugged again. This time we hugged even tighter.
Then I heard the familiar sound of Henry's truck going
past, slowly. I knew he would be surprised to see me
with someone. I snuck a peek, during our hug, to
gauge his expression. He was surprised, all right.
He damn near hit a parked car. A break screech moment
later and I was walking Cindy into my home. With our
arms around each other I walked her to the kitchen
table, pulled out her chair and said something I
thought was funny. I don't remember it, but she
laughed

The woman of my dreams was sitting at my kitchen
Table! I fought the urge, just like back in the day,
to confess my love and ruin the moment. I was amazed
that she was here. I wasn't about to scare her off
now. I just had to ask, "How did you find me? I'm
all covert and shit."

"I placed an ad in the paper using a fat girls picture
and asking if anyone knew where I could find a small
dick'd looser who lives like a hermit that might enjoy
a few sexually transmitted diseases. I got a thousand
responses with your name and address, but just to be
safe I googled ya." There was another reference to my
dick. Hmmmmm...I don't normally think in dirty terms
with her, but it's nice she's thinking along those
lines. And have I got a surprise for her! Yuk, yuk.


"So where are you living these days?" I asked.

"Here with you, I hope," she said. Now my heart
froze. She did not just say that! If she did, she
was kidding.

"Pardon?" I asked, with my voice quavering. Just to
play it off I exaggerated it on the end of the word
and made a cough.

"Don't get all weird on me, I'm living back with mom
and ‘no' I don't need a place to stay. So you can
relax. I am just here to visit for the day. Not to
crash."

"Whew, you scared me. You know I don't mind you
staying, even though you do take up a lot of room, I
just can't afford to feed you! And with a starving
cow on my property, you know the liberal media would
make me out to be the bad guy. PETA loving fuckers,
anyway"

It was amazing. After all these years apart we fell
right back in our groove. It was like everything
happened yesterday. I must have looked like a
goofball the way I was smiling. "You are smiling way
too much," she said. "Must be some good weed, ey?
Don't Bogart the shit."

I didn't even know what to say. That was an opener.
I felt expected to come back with something. I had
nothing. I just laughed...like a dork...and asked her if
she was hungry. "Do you have people food, or do you
need your lawn trimmed?" She asked. She didn't miss a
beat.

"Ummmm"...I still had nothing. "It is really good to
see you, Cindy. It's been a long time. You must be
about 40 years old by now. Wow, that's old for a
chick. I thought you would be dead by now. Shouldn't
you be decomposing? I bet the worms will be having a
fiesta when they see your fat ass lowered into the
ground! Hey, one world's loss is another worm's
gain." So I slipped in a backhanded compliment; sort
of. Very sort of.

"Make me an omelet, please. And not one of your
runny, cheese only, rotten egg kind. I want a three
fresh eggs, veggies, two kinds of meat omelet...surprise
me...sourdough bread, orange juice, and a foot message.
Oh, and sing something while you cook, please."

Well, she was polite. And we sure did love to sing
back in the day. We used to change names in songs and
personalize them for each other. When it came to
Crocodile Rock, me and Cindy had so much fun. For her
it was Blizzy. So I headed to the fridge. "I was just
kidding, dork," she said.

"I know that cows don't eat people food dumb ass. I'm
hungry," I said. I started cooking and singing... And
I can't forget, that trip to the West, singing blues
for Cindy/ Blizzy and me...

That was our song and she remembered the words. It
did seem like yesterday. And she hadn't aged! I
remember her well, and I was blinded by love, I knew.
She could have showed up weighing two or three hundred
pounds and I would have loved her. But she showed up
unchanged! Well, except the hair and sense of humor
ascension, she was the same! My mind was in whirling.
With that smile glued to my face I did feel stoned.
And I did make omelets.




















CHAPTER TWO


Breakfast turned out good. We ate like pigs. Well,
she did...I was a bit more refined. We updated each
other on our lives. She was divorced...finally...and had
moved back in with her mom and was going back to
school in the fall. Her marriage was a disaster. He
drank too much and had no affection unless he did.
They didn't have kids. She still had hopes of being a
mom, but was glad it wasn't with him.

I told her that I had a job working for GM. I had
been hired in at the right time so I would be able to
retire young and my job was secure. With all the
money I had put in my 401K, I would be set for a
comfortable retirement. I told her that I had dated a
bit, but the chicks just weren't that funny. This was
true. I left out the part about how they didn't
compare to her and that I was madly in love with her.
That might have been a bit premature to dump on her.
So I went with the comedic routine...as usual. "Hey,
since I made you breakfast, that makes me your bitch,
doesn't it?"

"As a matter of fact, you have always been my bitch.
It's time you started earning the role," she said.

It wasn't exactly a love pledge, but it would do for
the moment. "Let's get out of here," I said.

"Hey, bitch, where are we going?' she asked.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I responded.

"You have no idea, do you?" she asked.

"Hey, I'm just the bitch. I can't be expected to
think all these big thoughts when my primary job is
cooking your food and kissing your ass. I'm only
human, dammit!"

She got up from the table and we walked outside. We
went to the truck holding hands. Wow, that is the
first time I have held her hand my life! I was trying
to play it off as no big deal, but in my chest I felt
my heart was thudding like a sub-woofer. I walked her
around to the side of my truck and opened her
door...like a good bitch. "My lady," I said, holding up
one of her hands and doing a seemingly graceful bow at
her seat.

"Well, thank you kind bitch," she quipped in an
affectionate voice.

I closed her door and walked around to my side. I
reached around to my back right pocket, out of habit,
to take out my wallet and throw it onto the dash
because it was crammed full with everything from my
driver's license and credit cards to receipts of some
purchase or another that I would never need. I had
left my wallet in the house. I opened my door and
told her I forgot something and would be right back.

Walking back in the house I still couldn't believe
this was really happening. Was this real? What
should I do now? The girl of my every hope and desire
is sitting in my truck! I took my billfold off the
bedroom dresser and stuffed it into my back pocket.
My hands were shaking. I decided this would be a good
opportunity to calm my nerves. I took a couple deep
breaths and swiveled my head around to the sound of
needed joint cracks. Then I saw the box. I was crazy
when I bought it seven years ago. I was crazy now to
be thinking about it. But what the hell, nothing
today has been even remotely sane, so why not grab it
for the road?

The box contained a ring. Not just any ring, either.
It is the one I bought for her. Sure, it was an
impulse buy of sorts. I have a friend who is in the
jewelry business. One day while visiting with him, he
showed me a new stone he had gotten in at a jewelry
auction and was planning on getting a custom setting
for it and using it as an eye-catcher in his display
case. It was a princess cut 3.5K. I instantly saw it
on Cindy's hand. I saw her showing it to friends and
family and telling anyone who would listen about how
lucky she was. Sure, it was gaudy, but so what? Big
diamond means big love. Ten thousand dollars later I
was having a setting designed.

"So you don't even have someone in mind for this
boulder?" Jim asked.

"Nope. But when she comes along I want to be ready,"
I lied.

"You are so full of shit, man. Don't piss down my
neck and tell me it's raining. Just invite me to the
wedding. You owe me a night of free drinks just for
being your friend!"

Now I was looking at the box. It was a nice box.
Made out of actual wood. It held an even nicer token
of my love inside. It wouldn't fit well in my jeans
pocket. That would mean taking it out to sit
comfortably in the truck. I grabbed my camera bag and
tossed it in. I didn't have a single picture of
Cindy. Even if this was our one and only day
together, at the very least I was going to get some
photos.

I walked out to the truck with my camera bag in hand.
I casually tossed it into the back of the box. I
didn't want her looking trough it and finding the
ring. I wondered if it could suddenly fly out as we
traveled. It was too heavy for that, but I knew I
would be checking on it every time we hit a good bump.
When this idea struck me I suddenly wished I had left
it near the tail gait where I could see it. Since
that would only accent the bumps and reaching in and
setting it there would be unexplainable, I just left
it and climbed in the cab.

"Are you all right?" she asked. "You look like you're
forgetting something."

"My mind is jumbled," I confessed. "I can't believe
you're here, Cindy. You may be an old hideous bitch,
but I've missed you. I have to admit I thought about
you once or twice."

"I miss the old days, Chris. Do you remember all the
fun we used to have?"

This was another opener. I could feel my heart going
out to my sleeve. It took all of my wits and strength
to hold it in, as much as I could anyway. "Cindy,
those were the best times of my life. As pathetic as
that may sound, I still haven't had good times that
are even close to that." Oh, it was coming on now:
"You know, Cindy, at the time it seemed like it would
last forever. Then I woke up one day and it was
gone."

That is something I had forgotten; just how easily I
could talk to her. Not only could I bare my soul, I
felt good doing it. I could feel the tension melting
and my tongue loosening. I wanted to tell her again
how much I missed her. I just had to. But in true
form I mixed it in with a joke so that I could get my
message across without waving the red flag. "I missed
you," I said. "Not in a toothache sort of way. You
know how you can miss a toothache when it goes away?
More like a full belly kind of way. Ummm, the way you
miss food when you're starving." Oh, God, I was
babbling now. It had sounded funny in my head. I was
clearly loosing it.

"Yeah, I missed you too. Not in a herpes sort of way.
You know, like when you finally get rid of them, you
wish they had never left. But more in a diarrhea sort
of way. Ummm, like how you miss sitting on the toilet
screaming with your ass burning."

Leave it to Cindy to get me.

"So you're saying you miss me burning your ass?" I
asked. Without waiting for a response, I added, "Do
you know what burns my ass?"

"A flame about this high?" she asked, holding her hand
a few feet off the floor.

"No hemorrhoids, dumb ass," I quipped. "Why the hell
would I hold my ass over an open flame?"

"To see what it feels like," she shot back. "Or to
burn off your hemorrhoids all old school and shit."

I didn't mean to do it on purpose. If I had thought
about it a moment longer I wouldn't have. The urge
took over and I reached over and put my hand on her
leg and squeezed. I realized that this had the
makings of a very awkward situation so I gave it a
hard squeeze just above her kneecap. This shot her
leg out and brought up a sudden yowl from her. She
batted away my hand, called me a fucker, and down the
road we continued.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

Two years ago I heard of a piece of land for sale. It
was two acres with 300 feet of beachfront on a small
lake. I went to see it one day and fell in love at
first sight. It was covered with pines and sloped
from a nice hilltop to the edge of a small, yet
perfect sized, lake. I could picture a house built
half in and half out of the hill with a wrap-around
patio with perfect views of the lake. Like most all
other things, I had Cindy in mind when I bought it.
This would be just like the old days when we used to
hang out at the lake. It would be one of those
places. That would be another one of those things I
wouldn't mention to whomever I did finally marry.
After all, dreams are fine, but I was not going to
spend my life alone. If I could find someone even
close to her in personality I could settle for that.
I was willing to accept that she wouldn't be as pretty
or as funny. In my mind, Cindy showed me what not to
settle for. Not what to aspire for. No one is that
wonderful. She probably saved me a couple divorces
already. I committed myself to avoid constantly
comparing my wife to Cindy. It wasn't fair to her and
would only make me miserable. So I would never tell
her, or anyone for that matter, that I was thinking of
Cindy when I agreed to start making payments on a
chunk of land next to the water of a small lake.

"I have something I want to show you," I said. "It's
about a 45 minute drive. If you came to see me, with
all due respect, you obviously don't have a life and
you must have the time available."

Dear Lord, please don't let her say she doesn't have
the time and needs to go, I prayed.

"As a matter of fact," oh no, here it comes, "I don't
have a life and I got all day to do nothing."

Thank you, Lord.