Okay, usually I don't bring up your sexual shortcomings. I just drink more alcohol before sex. Problem solved. But no amount of vodka mixed with whiskey (my favorite drink) could make our recent sexual exploits fun or bearable.

Speaking of wild giant bears, remember when you were camping in the woods with our sons, and being a dumb cunt, fell asleep with the food bag out and open? Are you a cunt? Have you even seen an episode of Yogi Bear? Bears can literally smell that from a mile away.

But whatever. I'm not here to point out how dumb you are. I'm not here to blame you for the death of our two beautiful young sons. I'm just here to get my dick wet.

But I would need the jaws of life, a miracle from God, 5 bottles of horse Viagra and a fuckin time machine to go back to before Smokey the Bear sliced you up to even imagine reaching orgasm while having sex with you.

I'm no scientist, but it seems to me there's a correlation between you getting attacked by that hungry angry bear and our sex life plummeting downhill. That's my hypotheses.

I'm also not a doctor, I'm actually an overnight stocker at K-Mart (but you knew that), however it seems to me you're suffering from severe Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and need some immediate pyschiatric evaluation, testing, and counseling.

But most of all, you need to stop fucking shrieking during sex. I'm not a bear. I don't even like the Chicago Bears. Nobody does.

Whenever I start taking your clothes off, you start scratching me frantically in self-defense and screaming at the top of your lungs. Okay, hypothetically, if I WAS the bear that attacked you, why are you trying to defend yourself and fight instead of running as far the fuck away as you can? I guess that explains how you ended up here in the hospital. You're not stronger than a bear. You'd think you would've learned that by now.

Whenever I do actually get my lovepole inside your cold, dry, dark, treacherous vagina, you just softly cry and occasionally struggle really subtly, as if you've lost all energy and given up the fight but still think I'm an evil bear sent from hell.

And the tubes. Oh god the tubes. If the female vagina isn't already enough of a maze to begin with, I have to battle tangles and tangles of tubes and IV's just to get you to go down on me.

I don't deserve any of this.

If you like that bear so much—I mean you yell out its name during sex for Christ's sake—why don't you just go have sex with it and start a little bear family with it, okay?