Dear John letter
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Sunday, January 25, 2015
Dear Ex-Friend with Benefits,
By the time you read this, I'll be serving number 977. If you get here quickly enough, you might be able to get in to see me before I wash the stink of manfilth from my body and go home for the night. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but your needs are inherently less important than mine.
I know this might seem like a disappointing turn for the worse to you, seeing as we made all those plans to live together in happily unwedded bliss, or a reasonable facsimile, but I just don't see things working out that way.
I'm sorry about this — but as a bisexual, I'm interested in only two kinds of people — and quite frankly, you don't fit into either category. I just need more sex, and for longer than the 3 minutes and 2 inches you're able to provide... or was it the other way around? Anyway...
I want to tell you that I think you're ...exceedingly punctual, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You're a satanist, and I'm a schoolgirl. You like urine sample collecting, contemplating suicide (but always being so damned indecisive), and making faces at babies until they cry, 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 want to remember what suffering feels like.
I'd really like us to become slowly solidified into a kind of buttery jell, 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.