(note: this is technically several different exes, but since they all engage in the same asshole behavior, i will address them as one collective entity).

Dear FF,

I wanted to drop you a note to let you in on a little technological advancement to help you with your use of social networking sites. HIDE THE FUCKING SHADY SHIT FROM ME. use a limited profile for me so i don’t have to be seeing all the flirty notes you keep writing to hippies from your vacation, or see the beer bongs you did with your “ex girlfriend” on new years… or the other twenty thousand tagged photos of you and other ladies in various stages of courtship/love/drunken sex. i really don’t need the status update that after sleeping with me, you went from “its complicated” to “in a relationship” with a coked out 20 year old model.

you are by definition AN ASSHOLE because frankly, you are CHOOSING to show me this shit, and thus DELIBERATELY hurting my feelings.  its really lame. i won’t be creating a “fan page” for you based on this behavior.

unfriend me if you are going to be so cruel.

love,
the girl that didn’t know it was over yet (until she met your new gf online)

Hey yoga man. I haven’t been to your class in a while.  There are several reasons, but the main one is we hooked up and it wasn’t very good. Also, its weird that you come into my work with your girlfriend. There are several thousand restaurants that you could dine at and i find it strange you deem it necessary to eat at mine, holding hands and fawning over that underage chain smoker. I think you have issues with women.

Sorry to break up with you and your class this way.

Love,

the girl you leave shitty tips for.

aaaaaa, my sweet portugeuese speaking lover.  how i miss the strange utterances you have made in my ear in broken english.  the mere week we spent unable to properly communicate using words certainly pushed us into other forms of non verbal communication and is a highlight of my trip to ireland.

I don’t know if your sexiness was perhaps enhanced by the inappropriateness of my trysting with a subordinate at work…. or your accent… or your twenty year old physique… or all of the above.

alas, it could not be a forever love, due to visa restrictions and the oddity of your brazilian ass being in dublin.  your english is weak, and my portuguese is non existent…. and your sleep walking creeped me out a bit.  but the day we spent defiling the company hotel room will always be a beautiful memory.

ps.  i did the translation of your name… i am sad to report it means “billy goat” in my country. yikes.

Hi there, Exaggerator. I wanted to drop you and note and find out what the hell you are saying to other people?!?!?!?! We met for coffee ONCE, and you were twenty minutes late. I had already almost finished my beverage, which i purchased using my own pocketbook. Granted we did sit for an hour and chat, but at no time did we make any sort of physical contact. And this interaction occurred at 11 am. I think claiming that we dated and it “didn’t work out” is a bit of an stretch of the imagination. But I’m flattered that you want other people to think we “dated,” since you were both the one interested in going out a second time, and then also the one that decided that you didn’t want to go out a second time.

Is your divorce final yet?

xo

Dear Hipster Nerd,

I’m STILL sorry that i said i would go to homecoming with you senior year. Even as the words left my mouth, i knew it was a lie, that i would rather writhe in a fiery pit of despair that attend a public function on your arm. You were weird and unattractive in high school. I gather from mutual acquaintances that you still are; in fact, they content you are still a virgin. I hope you aren’t waiting for me to change my mind about that date.

I heard that you still think of me with a lot of bitterness, which i sort of understand. But then again… i DID call you to tell you that i changed my mind about spending any time whatsoever with you rather than merely passing you a note breaking the date. i could have been really horrible and just accepted another invitation and let you hear about it through the rumor mill.

The fact is, i would have been mean to you, avoided you, and potentially cried during the entire evening. after you asked me out, I DID cry until my mom said, “how bad could he be?” and i provided her with the yearbook photo. she said i should call and break the date immediately.

So, be pissed at my mom. And get laid already.

xo

Dear DILF,

hey, its been a while since i erased your phone number out of my cell phone. but i happened to be ordering a breakfast burrito over the weekend. it wasn’t so much at a restaurant as… a stand. you know, the kind of place that falls between the definition of “taco trailer” and actual restaurant. we sat on lawn chairs to eat…. i digress. i wanted to congratulate you on your acting, because there was a POSTER OF YOUR FACE posted on the side of the stand. it was a small poster, advertising that fairly boring play i saw you in oh…. a year ago. apparently the stand is lax about their decor.

anyways, its been a while. did you stay separated from that raw foodist that left you for a fat actor in malibu, or did he eventually kick her skinny ass out? i’m pretty sure you did based on photos i saw on facebook, but maybe you found another yoga obsessed anorexic that just looks like the old one. i never got to tell you that i’m pretty sure i saw your son outside my work throwing rocks at buses as they drove by. he’s got great aim, is he on the baseball team?

i’m sorry things didn’t work out for us….i feel like i never got to really explain since you went to mexico without really telling me when you were leaving OR when you were returning, but i was kind of creeped out when you showed up with a guitar at my house…sweaty. i can’t imagine why your band didn’t work out, though i am pretty sure it wasn’t the “knucklehead drummer.” and i wasn’t really into all the talking you did mid-kissing, you know, describing your inner dialogue out loud. for whatever reason, i found it distracting and weird.

anyways, hope to see you in the neighborhood soon! we should catch up.

xo

I see you DILF!

Hey Sniper! What’s shakin’? How is your second trip to the middle east to kill people? I didn’t really get to say goodbye before you signed that second contract with Blackwater and headed into battle. I guess I will just have to console myself with the memories we shared.

Like the day we met while you were a security guard at the meat market college bar that i had no business being at in the first place, and you threatened to kick that guy out that was drunk and following me around. It seemed quite chivalrous until i figured out you were just picking a fight with someone, anyone. And how about that awkward first date when you announced that you were a professional hitman for the US government, shortly after saying you “hate Ay-rabs” in your southern drawl? So romantic. I wanted to kiss your professionally whitened smile, if only to stop you from continuing your litany of racist terms referring to mexicans, koreans, and of course middle easterners. I wonder what you say about women when you aren’t on a date with one.

Its a shame your relentless ego-maniacally man grooming interfered with our getting to know each other better…. lasik eye surgery, nightly gym runs, not to mention frequent trips to the tanning salon and the mall to buy expensive clothes and a brand new Hummer all cut into our cuddle time. I”m glad that the government is paying you well though… it was initially surprising to me that you would spend money so freely, until you told me your odds of perishing on your next mission were 1 in 10 in your line of work. Guess you can’t take it with you, right?

Eventually though, i couldn’t deal with the guilt of being taken out to dinner on the blood money you received from killing women and children, er…. terrorists… abroad. That, and when i eventualy did see you naked, it was obvious that YOUR gun would not fit in MY gun rack. I told my friends you had a scary rape stick. Sorry, you just can’t fit twenty pounds of potatoes in a ten pound sack. What’s the story on that… did you expose your genitals to radiation or something? Maybe you need a six foot tall Samoan woman, although i doubt you would care for the color of her skin.

Eagerly awaiting your return,
the yellow ribbon ’round the old oak tree