By the time you read this, I'll be having future visions of myself in April 29, 2010.I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but your needs are inherently less important than mine.
I know this might seem like an omitted chapter from Dante´s Divine Comedyto you, seeing as we made all those plans to terrorize the elderly couple that lives down the road, but I just don't see things working out that way.
I'm sorry about this — I think.I just need more men, on some kind of rotating schedule.
I want to tell you that I think you are a Cylon imposter, but I don't think we're right for each other.First of all, we're not really compatible. You are under surveillance by the CIA,and I am addicted to raspberry muffins.You like having sex in dumpsters,dating circus midgets, andgas tungsten arc welding,and I'm just not sure I can ever share your joy in those things.How can two people so different ever make it for the long haul? I think we should date for the hell of it. It's not like we don't both have herpes.But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I completely run out of other, far more important things to think about.
I'd really like us to become people that ignore each other in public,if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, nah; I'm just screwing with you.
Take care of yourself and never forget to have your pets sprayed and neutered.