Dear John letter
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Thursday, August 21, 2014
Dear Freak of the Week,
By the time you read this, I'll be in sunny Zurich, drinking extortionately priced beer and completing my memoirs. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but your feelings are inherently less valuable than mine.
I know this might seem like a crappy thing to do to you, seeing as we made all those plans to trade all our remaining STDs even-steven, but I just don't see things working out that way.
I'm sorry about this — but if the writing's a but shakey that's only because of my helpless, loud and hysterical laughter. I just need more space. Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan is sounding pretty nice to me right now.
I want to tell you that I think you're ...alive and breathing, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You're an atheist, and I'm a mother of two-and-a-half. You like smoking banana peels, talking like Captain Kirk, and writing love letters to Bob Saget, 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 again someday, but only if you go in for surgery and get you brain replaced. And your nose. Or to keep it simple, ask them to change everything but your name. Or have them change that as well, unless doing so would complicate billing. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I want to, which isn't often.
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, at least while we were in separate cells at the police station.
Take care of yourself and never forget to double-bag "Uncle Willy" from now on.