Dear John letter

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<option> but another officer as it the door - I'll write more in an hour</option>
 
<option> but another officer as it the door - I'll write more in an hour</option>
 
<option> but if the writing's a but shakey that's only because of my helpless, loud and hysterical laughter</option>
 
<option> but if the writing's a but shakey that's only because of my helpless, loud and hysterical laughter</option>
<option> but as a bisexual, I'm interested in only two kinds of people &mdash; and quite frankly, you don't fit into either category
+
<option> but as a bisexual, I'm interested in only two kinds of people &mdash; and quite frankly, you don't fit into either category</option>
 
</choose>. I just need <choose>
 
</choose>. I just need <choose>
 
<option>more [[men]], on some kind of rotating schedule</option>
 
<option>more [[men]], on some kind of rotating schedule</option>
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<option>a bit of a laugh</option>
 
<option>a bit of a laugh</option>
 
<option>to kick you while you're down, before the snooker comes on the telly</option>
 
<option>to kick you while you're down, before the snooker comes on the telly</option>
<option>to find someone who is male and breathes - and quickly</option>
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<option>to find someone who is male and breathes &mdash; and quickly</option>
 
</choose>.
 
</choose>.
   

Revision as of 17:54, December 7, 2006

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Friday, April 29, 2016

Dear Acquaintance,

By the time you read this, I'll be blowing rich, retired businessmen on a slow boat to China. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but attorneys cost money, and I'm eating for two now, if you know what I mean.

I know this might seem like a sudden change to you, seeing as we made all those plans to assassinate the Pope, but I just don't see things working out that way.

I'm sorry about this — it's just a shame I waited so long to do it, and wasted so much of my valuable time. I just need to put this facade you've been living to an end, before I run out of script material. Ghostwriters cost a fortune.

I want to tell you that I think you're on my long list of middle-rated and easily forgotten ex's, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You're wanted in nineteen states, and I'm hypersexual. You like having sex in dumpsters, contemplating suicide (but always being so damned indecisive), and arguing with the voices only you can hear over dinner plans, 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 it is that I need to confess my most heinous sins on my deathbed.

I'd really like us to become "people that pretend not to know each other", if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, at least before we met.

Take care of yourself and never forget I have the sniper rifle, and I know how to use it.

~ Sheila (my street name).

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