Open letter...feel free to copy and paste

Dear [insert name of latest freak date here]:

You wooed me, you wrote pretty notes, you took me to some scenic places.  I will cherish our [days/weeks/months/years] together.  We laughed, I cried, you rolled your eyes, we laughed a bit more.  Truly, our multi-faceted relationship was the envy of our circles of friends.

But here's the thing.

When you talk about your (sort of) ex [girlfriend; spouse; partner; complacent participant], and don't filter out the parts about you still having feelings for her, it's a real mood-killer.  And if your (sort of) ex is still calling you and you're thinking, well, maybe if she changed just a bit and came back to me with a different perspective, I'd probably get back together with her - DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, SAY THAT OUT LOUD.  Again, a rather efficient mood-killer.  Not to mention the fact that it makes me throw up a little bit in my mouth.

And when you cancel a [lunch; dinner; movie] date as soon as I get to your place so you can go [bike-riding; coffee-klatsching; cow-tipping] with another girl, it doesn't make me want to come back and sleep with you the next day.  Or the day after that.  Really, ever again.

And when you suggest, in the nicest possible way, really, no offense meant, that you thought you would end up with a [more powerful; more ambitious; thinner; smaller; richer; less-burdened] woman, it would be super helpful if you wouldn't then try to kiss me and get into my pants.  Because that doesn't make me want to sleep with you either.  Especially after I've been watching your [kid; dog; aging parent] for a half-day while you get your sweaty groove on at the gym.  And when I tie your penis into a nautical knot to demonstrate just HOW powerful I am,

please know it hurts me more than it hurts you.

And when you say things like, "I love you.  I love you very much," and then retreat into a corner ten days later like some deranged snapping turtle,

hissing about needing space from this, and acting all irritated and elusive because, you snap, you need to ask questions about this - well, that's just a tad confusing is all.  And it makes me want to graffiti your windows with, "Wormlike douchebag in residence."  

Furthermore, when you call at [midnight; one a.m.; four a.m.] from a business trip, with nothing more to report than a slurred version of the hilarious story of how the friends with whom you are dining are pulling down their pants so you can see their thong underwear, it makes me want to smash the phone into little pieces and shove them up your ass.  And when you suggest that I'm feeling this way because I'm a jealous person, and insecure, it makes me want to retrieve the telephonic debris with a metal rake, light it on fire, and weld it to your balls.

So maybe you should keep those stories to yourself in your next relationship.  

Because I have it on pretty good authority, being of the female persuasion, that women don't particularly find it hot to hear about other [athletic; toned; free-spirited; drunk] women who are removing their undergarments in your presence.  Thong or not.

I'm just saying.

Anyhoo, I wish you so much luck and success in finding the woman you think exists who will be totally okay with all of this.  Maybe consulting the Book of Imaginary Girlfriends can point you in the right direction.

Cheers!  and XOXO and all that cheesy shit...