Dear John letter
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Tuesday, December 1, 2015
By the time you read this, I'll be hitchhiking to Wal-Mart to choose your replacement. 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 know this might seem like , complicated, bewildering, and kind of erotic 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 — really. No, really. Those are teardrops on the letter, and not spittle from laughter. I just need more length from you than I'm getting, and let's face it — you're shrinking with age.
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 a pedophile, and I'm hypersexual. You like laying on the floor with all the lights off, peeling watermelons, and arguing with the voices only you can hear over dinner plans, 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 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, or so we'll pretend.
Take care of yourself and never forget how much lower your reputation will slip as soon as I publish this on my blog.