By the time you read this, I'll be married. I regret to inform you that there were a number of contestants for my affections, and you were not the winner.I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but to be honest, I'd be more sorry if I were to stay.
I know this might seem like an unexpected departureto you, seeing as we made all those plans to blow up the moon together, but I just don't see things working out that way.
I'm sorry about this — at least so long as I remain intoxicated.I just need to find someone who is male and breathes — and quickly.
I want to tell you that I think you are Jimbo, but I don't think we're right for each other.First of all, we're not really compatible. You are wanted in nineteen states,and I am a member of a religion that has repeatedly confirmed that people like that are going to burn in hell.You like attacking clergymen,harassing sheep until they explode, andbelly-button sniffing,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 other species.But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I forget what your name was.
I'd really like us to become people that pretend they never dated,if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, unless I was just dreaming.
Take care of yourself and never forget that you've only got one bullet left, it's going to take more than that to stop me.