Dear Next Boyfriend,

Dear Next Boyfriend,

I've decided to throw in the towel, and give up every semblance of ever trying to be in anyway remotely "cool" ever again- although most would argue that I gave up that ghost long ago ("remember whose hobby was rock polishing when they were young, dear tori?") and they would mostly be right.

Anyways, in homage to that decision....
My DnD character is a 12th Level Elvin Cleric, a Temple Whore/High Priestess in service to the Great Cthulu. She has an electric mace, and I named her arranged marriage, pre "call of Cthulu" husband after "Zoot" from "The Tribes" (of the fun lovin "Power and Chaos" Loco Tribe).
Jeremy walked into work yesterday and said, for the first time ever, "hello, cleric , and I almost cried. Tear of joy though, tears of motherfucking pure baby virgin joy.

Love,
Tori

(PS: During my stumble drunk the other night, I decided that the real test of our longevity will not be your acquiescence to my...well...inherent evil, but if you promise we can have sex at least once while listening to Al Green's "Lets Stay Together" on repeat. Oh, but on that momentous occasion, I have to be 16 again, we have to be on a beach (but yet still in my bed?), you've got to be sporting some bitchin' white sunglasses, and maybe have a little white zinc lotion on the bridge of your nose. Yeah. The details were a bit..blurred.. but you get the idea)