“Sheba, Will You Read Me Tonight?”
Ego is the ultimate conspirator.
I left mine some time ago.
But for this fleeting moment, on Pamper-Her-Friday, my ego bleeds for your attention. I need you to read me tonight. This is no plebian love letter.
Sheba, I want you to think of me this evening—and thereafter. Why? No publisher in America will touch me. They don’t believe I write the Pamper-Her-Friday love letters. A mocha, cerebral, spiritual, heterosexual man apparently doesn’t represent their bankable author of choice.
I guess no one’s reading Rg2. Might that cohort include you?
Don’t break my heart, Sheba.
My manuscript has been turned down by countless editors across the industry. No one’s reading Pamper-Her-Friday, they say. Would you be my one reader tonight? I need you, Sheba. Your eyes. Your attention. I need.
Apparently the only reader I have is a compassionate bookworm at Guinness World Records. I received a correspondence from that body recently revealing I’m on their radar: Longest online love letter series ever written. They say 500 will be something of a human miracle.
Call me a miracle.
God willing, and with your inspirational presence tonight, I can do 500 . . . and more. It’s the hardest endeavor upon which I’ve ever embarked. But if I can attract your eyes, your mind, your interest in my amorous literature, this evening, it’ll be more than worth all my efforts, my sweat and tears, my contribution to this wanting world.
Sheba, will you meet me tonight . . . on the Pacific shoreline? I’ve requested a table for us in the midst of a late summer breeze, sand beneath our feet, tiki flames as garnishment, moonglow in full effect.
Guinness has noticed. They’re quietly watching. I’m so grateful.
But the ultimate blessing would be your presence this evening.
Just you and I. And the poetry I’ve written for you.
Pamper the woman . . . like a summer’s romance. -Rg2
© 2018 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®