so, #lettertomyex is a trending term on twitter. you can follow me and get tweets when i post my new letters.  just add letterstomyexes

me
xo

dear stalker,

i realize that my hot 12 year old body was pretty hard to resist, especially since i styled it so well with my white scrunchies and purple hypercolor tshirts.  but your hundreds of voice messages on the answering machine, when coupled with the almost daily notes passed to me in class (intricately folded in strange triangles) was, in a word: OVERBEARING.

i thought the simple “i don’t like you” would suffice, but alas it only inspired you to pursue other strange manners of attention getting.  you paid the girl with the locker next to me to get her locker; you memorized my class schedule and followed me from class to class so i was forced to walk outside in the freezing cold to avoid you; you regularly humiliated me by identifying whoever i had a crush on and then threatened them with bodily harm if they ever expressed any interest in me.  i still remember the exhilaration i felt when david called me…then the bitter disappointment when he said that he had just called to tell me that you threatened to break all the bones in his body and mine too so i couldn’t get away. and then there was the fact that you consulted a psychic about me. not sure what THAT was about.

ah, young love.

i think the last straw was when you hid behind my house masturbating that one night…. or maybe it was a year later when i was in high school and i heard the distrubing story from a guy that played pop warner football with you about the mess you made while masturbating to my yearbook photo. hard to pinpoint the exact moment you stepped over the line, but it was somewhere in there.

hope you aren’t still hiding outside!

the object of your obsession

photographic evidence of douchbagery

dear “candidate”:

here is a transcription as best as i can recall from last night at the karaoke bar:

you: “you are so delicious!”
me: “that’s a weird way to describe a person. you aren’t going to bite me are you?”
you: “haha, you are TOO FUNNY. no, i’m not going to eat you…. well i might eat you but..”
me:  “excuse me?”
you: “you seem like a girl that wants to have sex tonight.”
me: “(awkward pause) uhhhh, i do? what makes you say that?”
you: “i am just letting you know that i’m a candidate.”
me: “wow. i have no words.”

p.s. thanks for posing so frequently with you pulling up your shirt and exposing your left nipple and abs. i now have photos i can submit to hotchickswithdouchebags.com. and no, i won’t sleep with you. and no, i don’t want to date you either. consider it over already.

dear HIM,

why did you give me such a confusing business card?  i don’t know if you want to bang me or volunteer for beach clean up with you!  or maybe you just wanted me to google your name, see how delicious you look in an armani suit, read about your celebrity sexual liaisons.

here is what i did. i emailed you at your “work” or volunteer job or whatever. and i will probably never hear from you again. but it was worth the chance of someday taking special picture of you for myself…in your calvin kleins….or no calvin kleins

ciao bello!

xo

ah, sweet sweet yoga man.  why is your presence a guarantee i will suddenly fall into a state of mental defection?

when you invited me to participate in your yoga class, i really didn’t think much of it. i have taken a yoga class before and it was fine; my coworker enthusiastically agreed to attend with me. but the day of the class, i became a neurotic mess, and my friend bailed.

internal dialogue, 7:30 am: “should i not go? i don’t want to go. HOW LAME IF I GO ALONE. except how preplanned if i go with someone, i’ll skip it, that so STUPID, i set my alarm, i SHOULD JUST GO…. i’m going. i don’t have time to do my hair, I CAN’T GO, wait people don’t curl their hair for yoga, its EXERCISE and you don’t want to look like you dressed up for him, that’s OBVIOUS, let’s see what the mirror says, hair is okay… i’m getting in the car.”

and so i went to your yoga class…but all still was not well, because YOU MAKE ME NERVOUS, and as it turns out i am terrible at yoga. all the breathing in the world could not calm my heart rate.  everytime i you came near, i felt an adrenaline rush. and the adjustments you made to my form made me both incredibly excited and terribly embarassed.

internal dialogue, 10 am: “is he touching me just to touch me? YES… no, my downward dog is terrible… i’m TERRIBLE….is he touching my thigh? is that a sexy touch or a yoga touch? STOP TELLING ME TO BREATHE, I CAN’T BREATHE WITH YOU TELLING ME TO BREATHE!”

ultimately the class devolved into a hot, sweaty mess of me, shaking like a leaf as i tried to maintain ridiculous poses.  i debated quitting, “should i look lazy or weak? lazy or weak? lazy or weak?”  but in the end i chose weak and stuck it out.  i was so exhausted by the end of the ordeal that i really couldn’t seriously consider your offer to meet up later.  i was too tired and self conscious, so i went home and took a nap.

xoxoxox

Dear Vegetarian,

I understand your desire to eat plants.  I enjoy munching on a few myself every now and again.  But I’m not going to date you. No way. I’ve seen you eat.

Working in a restaurant and serving you meals, I have had ample opportunity to discover that you are a weirdo.  You order $13 worth of mixed vegetables and veggie burger and eat one entirely before you eat the other.  You veggie burger is literally cold before you start to nosh on it.  You make no small talk; these vegetables are SERIOUS BUSINESS.  And then you ask me to see a movie…… hahahahaha. Let me tell you something about myself.

I eat meat. Lots of it.  I once spent three weeks on an Atkins diet where i would take handfuls of lunch meat and shovel them liberally into my mouth.  I eat bacon, which I am fairly certain is the worst meat there is and combine it with other meats I enjoy like beef and chicken.  I would enter in a hot dog eating contest if I ever knew where to register.  I drive by cows and I think “mmmmmm.”

Someone like you is obviously passionate about vegetables, and I am passionate about meat.  Let’s chalk it up to strangers passing in the night, shall we?

xo

ah sweet delicious yoga man. how i wish you were my ex boyfriend.  i would hate every second that i once loved you, but i can tell from your limber body that it would be worth it.

i just have one, fairly awkward question… where you checking out my vagina today?  i wasn’t sure, but i wondered… you seemed to be staring directly at my crotch as you approached me and i was arching in a rather suggestive, although purely yoga related pose.  if so, i think you might be the first person to ever do that.  most people just like, stare at my ass or most commonly just my face.

if so, thanks for the compliment!  downward dog!

xo