I really shouldn’t hafta say this more than once…
Scratch that, I shouldn’t hafta say this at all.
Clean out the fucking animal blood you spilled inside the fridge!
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.
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.
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.
I’d like to take the opportunity to apologize for your human.
We aren’t all like that.
See, if there’s one thing that I cannot stand, it is irresponsible pet ownership
Naturally, you’re a puppy so it’s understandable that you’ll have an accident here and there.
I’m not thrilled with it, but I understand it.
Plus, given that your human only takes you out, roughly twice a day?
Yeah, bladder control could be an issue.
You deserve better than that.
Hell, any canine does.
So please, don’t hate us all cuz you got stuck with one of the bad ones.
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.
Thanks for that. Pretty sure I have no salt left in my system from bawling at your series finale last night.
Nah, you couldn’t just, like, let this one go, could you?
No, what’s the fun in that? How about a little emotional devastation?!?
You know I connect better to television than real life!
It’s part of why I’m so charmingly emotionally stunted at my age.
But after last night? Yeah, fuck that, I’m goin’ back to being all-around dead inside.
I like you guys. Well, I like one of you more than the other… but that’s neither here nor there.
I like you and I want living together to work.
But ya know what’s not gonna work?
The two of you getting wasted after I spent the whole morning cleaning the place, and trashing the place again.
Cuz then I spend the next morning cleaning up again.
And this morning? This morning I found actual dog shit on the carpet. In two separate spots.
How does that even happen?
Okay, yes, I know one of you has a dog and I understand the digestive process so I understand how it works, but how the hell does that not get cleaned up?
But ya know what is the worst offense?
I woke up this morning to find a string cheese wrapper casually strewn on the table.
That was my string cheese, goddamnit! I’ll put up with a lotta shit, but dairy is sacred, you motherfuckers!
… okay, I got a little carried away, but seriously, you touch my cheese again, I take away something you love.
You’ve been warned.