An Open Letter to Every Woman I’ve Fingered

An Open Letter to Every Woman I’ve Fingered

Dear Special Lady,

Hi there, how are you? It’s been a while. I know we haven’t spoken in a while but it’s never too late to catch up, right? Do you remember me? It’s ok if you don’t but I bet you do. I definitely remember you.

Look, the last thing I want is for this to be weird. You don’t have to worry about me being creepy or trying to rekindle anything. I understand that what we shared was very special at the time but we’ve moved on with our lives. We’ve grown up. You probably lead very successful, fulfilling lives like me. Just look, I’m writing this for the internet right now!

Since it’s clear now there’s not some bizarre motivation behind my writing this I’d like to ask, how was it? Don’t get me wrong, I know it was good but how good was it? You see, I understand that at the time you were probably too far into the moment to provide any real feedback afterwards. Don’t worry, I didn’t take it the wrong way. What others would have falsely perceived as awkward silence I recognized as the silence of pure joy. I bet the two of you who stopped talking to me afterwards because you thought you had offended me feel pretty silly now, huh? Don’t worry, I forgive you.

We are adults now and we’ve had time to reflect on our experiences so I feel like we can talk about this openly.  Did you say to yourself afterwards, “Oh my God, he just fingered the shit out of me?” Or was it more along the lines of, “his precision and skill were amazing; it was as if my body was an extension of his hand and his hand was a magic wand that had been enchanted only to deliver pulsating arcs of pleasure?” Or were you simply amazed that you had just been fingered by Chris Bastedo?  Of course none of you said any of these things out loud, although I’m pretty sure I heard one of you give a barely audible “whoa,” afterwards, which was definitely not me misinterpreting a burp.

I’ll bet you’re worried that I’m trying to get this information so I can be even better at fingering some new girl. Well you don’t need to worry about that; I’m having real sex now and as you can imagine, I’m pretty darned good at it.

I guess the real point of this letter is to get you to reflect on something you share that no one else does. Think about it: you’ve all experienced something wonderful, something magical. My manual prowess was instrumental in transforming you into the women you are today. Your common bond connects you in ways that others couldn’t imagine, and that’s why I think you should all get together.

Look, I know it sounds silly and I’m not even sure how you’d find each other (Maybe one of you has started a Facebook group about your shared experience) but each of you has been given a gift only others like you can appreciate. Share with each other, learn from each other, and be empowered together by my adolescent fingering skills.

And who knows, you may even have some fun, too. There are enough of you to have a pretty decent game of poker or maybe a little half court basketball (shirts and skins right? Lauren, you should be skins). Who knows what kind of crazy things you could get into?

In all seriousness, the whole point of this letter is that I want you to be happy. I don’t want you dwelling on the life-changing fingering I gave you way back when. I care about you.  I understand that what we had means a lot to you, just like it means a lot to me.  I want you to know that you were and are special, and I will never finger another girl like you again.


Chris Bastedo