Dear John letter
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Wednesday, March 12, 2014
Dear Sex toy,
By the time you read this, I'll be on a pilgrimage to Sears to buy "sporting goods" for my weekend adventure with the male cast members of "My Name Is Earl". I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but your needs are inherently less important than mine.
I know this might seem like a kick in the nuts 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 — really. No, really. Those are teardrops on the letter, and not spittle from laughter. I just need more out of this relationship. Financially, emotionally, sexually, intellectually. Everythingually.
I want to tell you that I think you're really quite adequate, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You're a card-carrying member of the Hair Club for Men, and I'm vastly less intelligent than that. You like projectile vomiting, juggling chainsaws, and genitally piercing unsuspecting strangers in unemployment line queues, 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 on other planets. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I need to tell my side of the story on Jerry Springer.
I'd really like us to become "permanently estranged", if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, ... well, no... but no-one else has to know that.
Take care of yourself and never forget how much lower your reputation will slip as soon as I publish this on my blog.
~ The Samaritans.