I was on the couch watching Hulu when my iPhone dinged.
“I miss you,” the text said.
It was my ex-girlfriend Michelle. We had spoken occasionally since we broke up about 4 months ago, but her messages weren’t usually so intimate.
“I miss you too,” I replied.
Michelle, 25, is the most classically attractive woman I’ve dated. She played volleyball in college, and she fits the archetype of a hot volleyball player: about 5″9 with a gorgeous face (blonde hair, blue eyes), perky C cups, and a round ass that sharply contrast her fit little waist.
“I miss the life we created together,” she continued.
I went to my camera roll and sent Michelle a picture of herself in my kitchen, smiling at the camera while she made mac and cheese.
“You never gave me your secret recipe,” I texted back.
One time when Michelle was cooking mac and cheese, she asked me to come into the kitchen to help out. “Can you stir this for me?” she said. As I took the wooden spoon, she dropped to her knees in front of the oven and sucked me dry before the pasta was ready.