for our 4th guest letter, we’ve actually got someone with balls. not just figurative balls, but an actual male. i didnt know males read my blog. it comes to us from “Eternally Emo.” And while his name reminds me a bit too much of my music preference in the early party of the “aughts,” it’s a great letter.
I wish I could tell you that I’m writing you this letter today to be ironic, to spit in the face of this manufactured holiday… and maybe to mess with your head a little.
Unfortunately, that’s not the case.
As cliché as it is, this letter is exactly what it appears to be. You know me, I’m a hopeless romantic at my core. So even though I’ve tipped you off, I hope you can indulge me for just a minute. Because I can’t hold onto these feelings for another day.
You were madly in love with your boyfriend J when we met, which prevented me from making an ass of myself. As luck would have it we stayed in touch, and your relationship with that guy came to an end after what seemed like a lifetime.
To read the rest (and somewhat surprising end) to this letter, click here.
our 3rd guest letter, good times! This one comes straight from a new blogger, The Romantic Realist. To find her twitter acct, you’ll actually need to read her letter…i promise, it’s worth it.
Yes, I did initiate our meeting by writing “You’re cute, call me” on a bar napkin last weekend and nonchalantly thrusting said napkin in your hand. From across the bar and with a fresh shot of Patron in me – you WERE CUTE.
Flash forward to the moment we met for lunch. I’m walking across the street and spot you on the corner. My first reaction – ok – you are alright – but those sunglasses are so 1997. We hug and say hi, and wait – what’s that? On your lip? WHAT THE EF IS THAT? I don’t want to stare and you start to walk a bit ahead of me (that’s rude by the way), but it doesn’t even matter. I am so eager to sit down across from you at lunch to investigate the mess on your mouth.
We get to the restaurant and sit down and there it is staring me in the face – crusty, scabbed up, upper lip JUNK. Is it herpes? Did you scrape the f*ck out of your face while shaving? Did a cat’s claws eff you up? I expect you to explain – something like “oh yeah don’t mind this – I really need to get a new razor,” but the fact that you don’t make mention of the monsters on your lip makes me even more skeptical of their origin. I mean, you must be thinking about it too right? You leave to go tell the hostess we nabbed a table without her looking and I hate to admit that I did send a text my friend “dude has herpes on lip – how do I dodge the inevitable first date goodbye kiss?”
You came back to the table smiling. The scabs were stretching. I wanted to scream “don’t grin too wide or they are going to break into a bleed!” Seriously, you should have cancelled. I couldn’t even look at your crystal clear blue eyes – I was fixated on your lips – but not in the way you probably wanted me to. It was more like, get those away from me.
So yes – among other things about you that were a complete turn-off on that date (you asked me a million questions, which made you seem interested, but you didn’t even care about the answers. Everything about our conversation was surface and sucky). Well that’s why when you INSISTED on walking me to my car (it’s 2011 please don’t think you have to do that, especially when I mention 2 times that I’m all good), well that’s why I did the quick-dodge-into-an-awkward-side-hug and then turned around and got into my car.
Next time, don’t forget to refill your Valtrex prescription.
sooo you wanna buy me dinner tonight i guess thats cool … catch up chat about old times… with martinis and vodka tonics … gotta say i was a little surprised to hear from you…. but then i suppose eventually everyone grows up …. and maybe you wanna man up say you’re sorry cause I realllllllly didn’t deserve to be treated like that… i mean we never realllllly broke up…. you just left for your place in NYC and never bothered to call me when you got back … and it was classy how you told your friends that i didnt want to have anything to do with you ….guessing that in your mind it was alll my fault …. it’s true the phone works both ways …. but you KNOW i don’t call boys … and i had never called you… i certainly didn’t want to call after you got twisted drunk on argetinian red and coughed up your heart right on the white table cloth at ruths chris …. where I assume we will go tonight- you’re not particularly creative in your restaurant choices….guess you hadnt planned on your LBomb blowing up in your face….. i appreciate that it was pride you had to swallow back down when i couldn’t return the sentiment… and we all know how bitter choking that down can be… ahhhh that night was a bloody mess …no? somehow i suspect it’s not an apology that you’re hoping to give me tonight … but for now im giving you the benefit of the doubt — that’s how we grown ups roll …. see you at seven ….
from the blog “Darcy Dates” -
Dear Date From Last Night:
If it is our first date, and the entire time all through dinner, you are begging to see my underwear at the table, and I say no, and you continue to beg, I won’t want to go out with you again.
If I tell you that you are making me incredibly uncomfortable and you tell me what you are doing is completely normal, I will think you should be checked into a program at one of the Federal Universities. To read the rest of this amazingly creepy story, click here.