Letter 5. April 8, 2010

Dear X,

I know you think it’s so great that you own a BMW but let’s face it: You live in Queens with your family!  I mean, sure they’re upstairs but that’s not exactly what I call cutting the umbilical cord.  I’m more embarrassed to admit that I slept with you on more than one occasion in your “apartment” with them directly above us.  EW!

Plus you don’t do dishes (hello?) and I was always disturbed that you don’t actually wash your own gym-clothes and leave them for your mom!

Look, you have time to work out every day?  You have time to go for that Back-Street Boys haircut on steroids every day?  You have time to drench yourself in Polo cologne and go out to the clubs?  You certainly seemed to have to have enough tolerance to alcohol and money to blow that you bought me drinks all night.   I’ll admit it, you’re cute; not hot, but cute.  You’ve got muscles in your back and when you want to be you’re actually pretty funny.

The thing is, when you brought me back from Manhattan to Queens the first time, I thought “Oh, how cute!  I’ve got a little Queens-boy who’s a sweetheart and drives a Beamer!”  Then, I found out that the only way you’re able to do that was by mooching off of your family, who you treat like dirt.

It’s already over.  I guess I shouldn’t have come back more than once, but I thought it could work until I figured out that you were kicking it to someone else at the club where we met. It’s the same club that you go to EVERY TIME!  You know- the one where they sell gum, hairspray, and mouthwash where you pee and you leave money for people to watch you urinate and hand you a towel!  What did you think?  That I wouldn’t find out? You self-admittedly hardly graduated from high school and, to be totally honest, I sometimes wondered whether you were fully literate based on your actions… You’re so fucking dumb.

So you tried making out with C only two days after you asked me to be your girlfriend! I saw you and C and W called me immediately.  You even lied about where you were when I texted you and ignored my calls! You’re a such a pussy!  Grow up!

When I confronted you in person about it the next day, you were such a douche that I realized why I don’t date people from your borough (once again).  But just in case the new girl you’re seeing happens to read this (and for the rest of the world who can read): You have a really small penis.  If 5 inches is average… Whatever.  She’ll find out soon enough.

Stick to petite girls,

moi

Letter 3. April 6, 2010

Dear X,

You are the most pathetic excuse for a man that I have ever met. Just because you play D1 football does not make you God. If you haven’t looked in the mirror lately.. let me remind you – YOU ARE 350 POUNDS!! And well I’m gonna be honest here: I’m hot… in fact too hot for you.

Just so you know, the whole year we dated (while you had another girlfriend of oh you know two years…) I was cheating on you with one of your teammates. In fact the night you vandalized my car, by writing all over it and slashing my tires I was in his bed.

Every time you told me you were going to your godmother’s at 1 in the morning or that you had study group ’til Midnight – I knew you were lying.. like, Hello?! Just because I’m blonde does not mean that I am THAT STUPID.

I never thought our relationship would end by the force of the police, but thank fucking God it did.

I look so much better without you.

So have fun cheater/psycho/piece of shit! Thanks for the 10 grand worth of damage on my car.

Love,

moi!