Sunday, August 12, 2007

Dear Next Boyfriend,

I came to a sudden realization last week. I have no time for you. So, pet, I must insist that you desist and cease to exist (har har..oh). Its sad really, but its all for the best. With the music babies just awaiting birth, the gaming nights full of cthulu crimes to be solved, the secretly public displays of enraptured and ruptured heatstrings and heartbeats to be attended to, and the writing, the writing the writing of it all, I just can't squeeze you in.

Come calling when the winter hits, and all I crave are long nights in sweaty sheets surrounded by videos and food cartons. We will smoosh our combined heft together then, and dream up big dreams for future use.

I'm forrrreverrrrr yours, faithfully,

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