Dear John letter
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Wednesday, April 1, 2015
By the time you read this, I'll be singing show tunes in the shower while members of the New York Yankees take turns exfoliating my buttocks with a loofah sponge. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but well... no, I'm not sorry. Lying was always my worst problem with you, and I'm sorry. No. No, I'm not.
I'm sorry about this — at least so long as I remain high. 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 ...more than passable, 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 a mother of two-and-a-half. You like fondling barnyard animals, bobbing for old tires in the East River, and practicing surgery on household pests, 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 different continents. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever the hypnotism I'm paying for wears off.
I'd really like us to become "people that ignore each other in public", 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 you are now statistically 50% less likely to ever find a lasting and fulfilling relationship during your lifetime.