Archive for the 'Breakup Scenes' Category

09
Mar
11

dear victor hugo,

I guess I should include the likes of Claude-Michel Schonberg (composer) & Herbert Kretzmer (English lyrics). Most of all, this letter goes out to Samantha Barks, who played the part of Eponine at the 25th Anniversary Les Miserables concert at the 02 Arena last Autumn. Is “On My Own” not the original “Dear Ex” letter? Yes, yes, I’m well effing aware that Eponine & Marius were never actually an ‘item,’ but I think I’m ok with that given that more than half the girls I’ve written letters to on this blog were never my actual girlfriend; instead they were just either objects of my affection who didn’t return said affection or biatches I met with once and never want to see again. It’s impossible for me to convey just how much I love this song, and pretty much all of the Les Mis soundtrack…and I’m also proud to admit it. I have no shame that I like some showtunes (Tommy, by The Who, should not be missed on Broadway, for example). Although I guess it does make it a bit easier to make this exclamation from the pulpit of an anonymous blog. But still, I might be risking losing a percentage of male readers by admitting that Les Miserables has often brought me to tears. I think I tweeted while I was watching this on PBS this past weekend something along the lines of “If Les Mis doesn’t affect your emotions in some way, you dont have a soul.” Watch this clip, I stand by that statement.

PS – Notice how I didn’t dedicate this song to g-damned ‘Glee‘ or Joey Potter from ‘Dawsons Creek.’ Want to know why? Because those shows are for p-words. And I’m all man baby.

PPS – I used to love ‘Dawsons Creek.’ And I’ve intentionally avoided ‘Glee’ because I have a feeling I’d love it. And yes, I put the PPS beneath the clip hoping most people wouldn’t notice it.

28
Feb
11

dear anne hathway,

And I guess to a certain extent, James Franco, because I think after the debacle that was Oscar night, there are many women & men – not that there is anything wrong with that…no of course not  (c’mon people it’s a Seinfeld reference, calm down) – who soured on you after your performance. But since this letter is going to focus on my relationship with Anne, I’ll leave you out of it from now on James, mainly because if I mailed you this letter you’d probably just roll it up and smoke it.

But Anne, my beautiful Anne, what the hell were you doing up there? You came off sometimes as a giddy school girl, and sometimes as a ‘too cool for school’ biatch. Yes, stop, I know the opening bit was hilarious, but that really had nothing to do with you. You didn’t write it, it wasn’t live so you had a chance to actually act (which I think you do quite well quite often), as opposed to freelance during the actual awards. But now that I think of it, you didn’t even have to freelance…you were reading from a teleprompter and still managed to make it seem as awkward  as someone trying to argue that “Bride Wars” was a good movie.

Speaking of your movies, it’s going to be tougher and tougher to defend your abilities when you continue to churn out crap like that, not to mention “Get Smart.” I first fell in love you in “The Devil Wears Prada,” which I was forced to watch on a plane, because it was either that or reading a book. And since reading is for losers (just kidding, if it wasn’t for reading I wouldn’t be able to write this well or have the 17 people/day visit my blog), I watched you outshine everyone in that overall brutal movie. And that includes Emily Blunt & Meryl Streep. Then I saw your boobs in “Brokeback Mountain” and “Havoc,” and even though the latter was a garbage movie, boobs are my downfall so I was ready to propose.

Then, just a couple of years ago, the pinnacle of our relationship came during “Rachel Getting Married,” because now not only did you have a smoking body, but you also proved you could act. Now maybe when I rent “Love & Other Drugs” (speaking of which, I get to see you naked again, right?) you’ll reignite the passion in our one-way relationship. Because after last night babe, I think I’m done. I mean, this is just brutal…

Stop waving your effing arms everywhere.

Your Ex-Lover,

Oscar

26
Jan
11

dear ione skye & john cusack,

Thanks for making it nearly impossible for men all over the world to let go of a girlfriend. I guess in all fairness I should include Cameron Crowe & Peter Gabriel in this letter also. Let me tell you the lesson that I, and millions of other males, learned the first time we saw this movie: “Gentleman, if a woman breaks up with you and you want her back, it’s simple, stand outside her window playing some romantic love song in the wee hours of the morning and I promise, you will win her back!” Well, though I am sure I am not the first to come to this conclusion – this strategy doesn’t work in real life.

To be honest, I don’t have any empirical proof to back it up, since I’ve never been so desperate to get back together with someone (though, there are MANY girls I’ve been desperate to get together with in the first place, but that’s a different situation). The only reason I know it doesn’t work is because I’m not an idiot. While in many ways I’m an idealist, and would love to believe I could win a woman’s heart over by standing outside her door holding my iphone above my head with it blaring “fill in cheesy love song from this decade,” I know it just doesn’t happen that way. Or maybe, it does. I’m going to cut myself off from blabbing on and on and open this up to the general public…Ladies & Gents, please comment with quick story if something similar to the following scene has happened in your life, and not only that, if it actually did the trick.

20
Jan
11

dear rene & brodie,

From the bottom of my heart, allow me to thank both of you for giving all teenage boys (well, maybe not all) a complex about the size of our, hmm family friendly, man parts.  When I first watched this movie, I was but an early teenager and let’s just say I only had first-hand knowledge of my endowment.  In addition, I tended to focus my stare downwards (still do) in lockers rooms and gyms and so forth, so I had very little (no pun intended) to compare myself too.  Then I watch the following scene,

and from that moment forth, I was scared to death about what future females would think of my ‘stuff.’ How was I to believe anything any females would say about it? I was smart enough to realize very few would be so mean as to say something along the lines of, “wow, that is really small…good luck with that thing.”  But now I started thinking no matter what a girl who saw it would always embellish by at least one size: average=tiny, decent=small, big=decent, huge=well, this one doesn’t really matter.

Now, in my ripe old age, I have become more than content with everything down there, but I think subconsciously in the back of my mind I still get nervous about someone new exploring, and chuckling at it (which, has yet to happen thank whichever lord you pray to).  Maybe deep down this is the reason I have intimacy issues, because I don’t want anyone laughing at me.  What’s the definition of insanity – something about repeating the same thing over and over expecting different results, right?  So if enough females have been privy to this kind of visual information, and not laughed, why do I keep expecting that to happen?

Eff you Kevin Smith.

PS – I actually don’t really care, at all…I mean as long as I get off, right? (calm down ladies, my Jewish guilt would preclude me from ever actually performing in this manner).




Letters sent…

December 2012
M T W T F S S
« Aug    
 12
3456789
10111213141516
17181920212223
24252627282930
31  

What Era of Letters do you want to read?

DearExGirlfriend Tweets

Error: Twitter did not respond. Please wait a few minutes and refresh this page.

send a letter of your own (or just to say what’s up)

dearexgirlfriend at gmail

Join 102 other followers


Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 102 other followers