| rev:text
| - My Dearest Federico's,
It's been a while since we last spoke. I'd like to say that I've been busy, and just haven't had the time, but that would be a lie. The truth is, I've wanted to write, but it just hurts too much. I miss you, Federico. I miss everything about you. The rolled tacos with Guacamole and cheese. The Carne Asada burritos. The morning wood.
I miss waking up, not grouchy, but eager, because I knew I'd see you on my way to work. I still remember the first time I stuck your meat in my mouth. I remember being nervous because I knew nothing about you. I was nervous that you'd see my Goldenly Bronzed complexion, and fail to realize that beneath the incredibly tanned skin, was a white boy who loved nothing more than to be stuffed by a Mexican's chorizo. But you didn't judge -- not once. Nope, you were a total gentleman. Instead of forcing it down my throat, you simply put it in my face, and allowed me to pace myself until I swallowed every inch. And I did. I remember being in my UPS truck, thinking about you every time I checked my mirrors and saw the stain you had left on my shirt from the warm juice that had dripped from my mouth. By noon, I was fully aware of the pounding I had taken, because I didn't shit right for a week. But I didn't care, some bubble guts are a small price to pay for what you were putting inside of me. I had to see you again.
Before long, I had completely forgotten about Ronald and that red-headed bitch Wendy. Fuck a Frosty, my mouth was fully committed to you, Federico. God we had some good times, didn't we? But, like all great relationships, we, too, faced some adversity. You know what I'm talking about right? The day of the dog, Remember? I felt as if I was slapped in the face that morning. Let me rewind a little bit.
When the word got out about my new morning routine, my friends and family were against it. They would tell me how bad you are, and you will eventually damage my heart. They even stooped as low as accusing you of putting dog meat into my mouth. FUCKING DOG MEAT! But I wouldn't listen. I was in love and didn't care what anybody had to say. So you can imagine the anger, and sense of betrayal I felt when I pulled up to your drive through, and was LITERALLY greeted by a dog barking in Spanish through the speaker(100% True story). Without skipping a beat, I ordered my Carne Asada. I guess I was so used to pulling up and not understanding a single fucking word anyway, that I just took it in stride. I don't speak Dog or Spanish, so I wasn't even going to ATTEMPT to understand Spanish Dog. But even that wasn't enough for me to leave you. Maybe my friends were right, maybe you WERE putting your dog meat inside of me. But I wouldn't accept that, so I quickly dismissed that theory, and convinced myself that maybe the dog taking my order was covering the normal woman's shift. What an idiot. But hey, we were young.
Wow, look at me. It's been years since our last rendezvous, yet, you still cause me to nervously ramble. I guess my love for you followed me to San Jose. Anyways, I just wanted to stop by and say hello. And that I can only hope that you miss my mouth, as much as my mouth misses stuffing you inside of it. I love you, Federicos, you're my favorite Mexican.
Forever yours,
Matéo
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