Dear John letter
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Friday, May 29, 2015
By the time you read this, I'll be living in your house and drinking your coffee. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but with your breath, a letter seemed the safest option.
I know this might seem like a bit of a shock to you, seeing as we made all those plans to push you into the sea tied to a large brick, but I just don't see things working out that way.
I'm sorry about this — but another officer as it the door - I'll write more in an hour. 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 ...good at Scrabble, if slightly obsessed with it, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You're an agnostic, and I'm a member of a religion that has repeatedly confirmed that people like that are going to burn in hell. You like smoking banana peels, bobbing for old tires in the East River, and gas tungsten arc welding, 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 need to tell my side of the story on Jerry Springer.
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 your psychiatrist thinks you're a jerk too.