Dear Former Friend,
I say “former” because “ex” makes it sound like there’s a romantic element, and while there was a time when I would have liked to have a downstairs party with you, that was a loooong time ago.
We decided to go the “just friends” route.
Then I realized that I didn’t have much interest in being friends, either… I mean, sure, we hung out some times, but most of your texts were spent calling me “missy” and other effeminate names which is, well, it’s a solid joke to start with, but it wears after seven months.
Still, I’m sorry we ended our friendship the way we did.
Cuz, like, now I’m remembering that time you made fun of that homeless man? The one who was diabetic and lost a foot?
Yeah, I’m mainly sorry cuz I shoulda ended this friendship sooner.
Really? Yes, I sweat.
It just seems hard to believe that in a world of such technological innovations, your downfall is the fact that, yes, I sweat during an 8-mile run. Honestly, that’s my bad.
I mean, I’ll work on it, but I’m not making any promises.
Dear Starbucks Employee,
I know the unkempt beard might suggest otherwise, but I swear I’m not homeless.
… Although I’m sure plenty of homeless folks have tried that line before.
I’m just hanging out here til my boyfriend is done with his doctor’s appointment. I know what you’re thinking, I’m disappointed in me too. I could totally be doing better things with my time than just waiting around… oh, an example? I dunno, I could be watching cartoons? That’s contributing to society, right? Oh, it isn’t?
… who asked you, anyway?!?
P.S. Pretty sure this is the conversation we would have if I wasn’t too afraid to talk to any of you… I’m that bored.
Look, I’m not saying that I hate you, I just- we should probably slow things down for a little while, ya know?
I’m just worried we’re getting too serious.
I mean, four nights a week?
It’s just- I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of commitment, ya know?
Plus, well, considering I work in a bar, I’m kinda missing out on my 20s.
I mean, do you even know the last time I was up to watch Saturday morning cartoons?
Getting out at 3 :30 AM, making it home by 4, who has the energy to wake up at 8 AM for Scooby-Doo reruns?
It’s not fair, damnit. These are the prime years of my life and I’m, what, spending them working?!?
… actually, yeah, no, that sounds about right.
I know you’re not a huge fan of the gays… but from now on, my boyfriend and I are gonna kiss every time we see you.
That’s what we did the other night and it made you leave every time.
Pretty sure we won that one.
We’ve been through a lot together; marathons, puberty… some other stuff too…
But after last night?
If I could turn my back on- well, turn my back on my body, I would.
Sadly, we’re stuck together.
But after the pure concentrated evil that came out of my back end this morning?
Don’t think I’m too happy with you. Cuz I’m not.
I know we’ve had our fair share of ups and downs since we’ve known each other.
I know neither of us is quick to trust or communicate our feelings.
But I also know that if I could do anything (and I mean anything) all I wanna do is fix you.
You’re not broken, per se, but life hasn’t always been kind to you.
You’re not great with trust because no one has given you a reason to trust.
I’d like to be that reason.
I know these are just words so it might not count for much, but it’s pretty much all I’ve got.
I love you.
Dear Drunk Guy on the Corner,
I don’t know if anybody’s told you this, but you- you’ve clearly soiled yourself.
I mean- I don’t even know how to describe it. It’s just so right fucking there.
Yeah, like, see how your blue jeans are one shade?
Then, there’s that one area on your crotch and down your leg that’s slightly darker?
That’s- that’s clearly urine, dude.
I just thought you should know.
Sorry for yet another shirtless picture, but it’s relevant, I swear!
Dear Bar Patron,
There’s an art to complimenting someone.
How do I know that? I mean, you do raise a good point, I have not been known to compliment many folks.
In fact, you raise another good point, I’m not great at receiving compliments either.
They usually just make me feel wildly uncomfortable, while I quickly try to come up with a counter-compliment.
Before long, we’re in a compliment competition and I end up winning with the stellar, “That’s a sweet Mr. Roger’s sweater you’ve got…” (Don’t mock, it actually happened)
Still, the other night, that wasn’t just me. That was a weird compliment.
While “You’re hot, I wanna take you home in my trunk” was undoubtedly well-intended, it came off as more or less… well, date rape-y?
Yeah, that was the term I was looking for. Date rape-y. Seriously, dude, not your A game. Not even B or C game. Doesn’t even register in the English alphabet, that’s how bad it was.
But, um… thanks? It’s the thought that counts?
I dunno, I just thought somebody should tell you how awful that line is, in case you ever try it on somebody else and they wind up calling the cops on you.
Dear… Whatever We Are,
I know we broke up and since then we’ve continued to say “I love you”, have sex, and hold hands.
Naturally, this area is a little- well, our footing is a little less than stable, isn’t it?
I wanna let it be known that I’m not pushing to DTR.
For you squares, that’s “define the relationship.”
Nope. Not me. I’m super easy-going.
Okay, none of us were buying that… still, I’m not pushing you to define what we are because, truth be told, I love you but I think you nee to be okay on your own before we can be a serious version of whatever we are.
But last night? Last night we crossed a boundary. We’re talking serious dating territory.
Last night… you farted.
We’ve talked about this before. When we broke up or whatever, we agreed sex was still on the table and farting was permanently off the table. You said that. You broke your own rule.
I’m sorry, I’ll put up with a lotta stuff, but if you’re farting in front of me?
Yeah, that’s the uncomfortably comfortable territory of dating.
Your move, buddy.
PS I totally don’t think it’s weird that, according to me, the progression of our relationship is marked by flatulence. Not weird at all.