Dear John letter
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Tuesday, August 4, 2015
Dear <insert name here>,
By the time you read this, I'll be in jail. Three hots and a cot, and the judge says I can refuse to see anyone I want, including you. Finally. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but your feelings are inherently less valuable than mine.
I know this might seem like punch in the jaw to you, seeing as we made all those plans to alphabetize our combined compact disc collections someday, but I just don't see things working out that way.
I'm sorry about this — or at least that's what you're supposed to say in these situations. 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 ...unusually odorous, in a good way... sometimes, 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 a mother of two-and-a-half. You like guessing the weight of elderly women, scratching yourself publicly, and smelling other people's fingers, 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 people. 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 pretend they never dated", 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 that I know where you buried the body, and won't hesitate to contact police should the need arise.