I'm really sorry...but I've found someone else

Hey!

How’s it going? I hope your week went well. TGIF amiright?!

Listen, there’s been something I’ve been meaning to say to you for a while now. I guess you’ve noticed that we haven’t really seen much of each other for the last few weeks, eh? I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you or anything, but I just…I just wasn’t sure what I wanted and was too chicken to say anything out loud. Stupid, I know. I’ve never been good with conflict.

It’s just that I don’t think we should see as much of each other anymore. Please don’t get me wrong; I love you. I think you are wonderful and beautiful and you give me so –SO- much pleasure and make things so much softer for me…but you’re just not good for me. You’re a typical bad boy, like biker-dudes fathers warn their daughters about. You’re fun and awesome, but you’re going to end up destroying me one little bit at a time.

If I could, I’d take you every day. I’d run my hands over your cool body every morning and watch you pour your white goodness into my hot brew. I’d let you fill my cup with your sallow sweetness and wouldn’t even mind if you were full-fat, all the while anticipating the twirls and swirls you perform so elegantly. My mouth would water just thinking about your sweet-savoury wetness.

But I can’t. I won’t. You’re bad news and, as much as it pains me to say so, I have to stop using you for my own gain. I adore you, but I just can’t do this anymore. And, truth be told, I’ve found someone to replace you with. Someone lighter and better for me. Someone who suits me just fine, even though he’s nowhere as full and delicious as you are. I’m sorry, I really am…but I need to look out for myself from now on.

I really hope we can still be friends. And I’m sure that once in a while I’d be up for a little ‘reunion’ if you would. I know I’ll never be able to fully replace you and I’ll always miss you and my mornings really won't be the same. I’ve just really gotta stop this before it kills me.

Thanks for your understanding,
Jenny

RULES OF DATING

Hey!

You want to go on dates! That’s so awesome! The thing is, you seem to be completely oblivious to the rules of dating, the rules of being a gentleman and the general laws that come along with being a normal member of society. You seem great – you really do – so I’m gonna help you out. Here are my rules of dating. Read them. Learn them. Understand that I’m just trying to help. Don’t get pissy.

RULES OF DATING:

1- If you meet someone online, don’t suggest meeting up in a month. If you don’t want to meet someone right away, it will set off alarm bells in their mind saying “DING DING DING! LOSER ALERT! THIS PERSON OBVIOUSLY HAS SOME SORT OF HIDEOUS PERSONALITY/FACE!” Yep, for real. It looks like you’re just trying to trick them into liking your personality and developing feelings via emails and texts, and then when you meet…BAM! Six fingers on one hand, perverted comments to the waitress and a horrible body odour. Meet someone within two weeks of first contact. Grow some balls.

2- Speaking of balls, just because a girl is really funny and easy going, doesn’t mean you can just tell dick jokes all night. She may be vulgar on stage or with her friends, but it doesn’t mean she wants to spend Sunday afternoon listening to you tell the hilarious story about that time you came on a girls tits while your mom was in the other room. This is not good first date material. Treat a woman with respect. Imagine what dating was like in the 1950s and try to be like that. A gentleman.

3- Don’t ask her how many people she’s slept with. Just don’t. Unless you’ve been seeing each other for a while and she brings it up, don’t ask her that question.

4- If you *do* somehow manage to wrangle the answer out of her, don’t comment on it. Don’t say that she has you beat. Don’t start getting jealous or pissed off. Don’t start fishing for compliments and saying “so how do I measure up against the other 30 guys?” It’s not a competition.

5- Stop talking shit about yourself. A little self-deprecation is okay; hey, we all do it and we all find it funny! But to constantly say things like “Oh, you’re not going to want a second date with me”, “I’m pretty ugly” and “I’m not very good in bed” is just going to piss someone off. I’m not saying be a cocky motherfucker and act like the king of all kings…but the more you talk-down about yourself, the more turned off someone will be. Sell yourself!

6- People don’t want projects. When we were 17 we were okay with dating people who were depressed, cynical and complained all the time, but now we are adults. We all have our own shit to deal with and we all have our own insecurities, so we don’t need to take on anyone else’s problems. Of course when you’re with someone you can always lend a supportive shoulder…but that shoulder has to go two ways. When one person is constantly supporting and the other person is constantly whining, the supporter gets pretty tired pretty quickly. If you have so much to work out that you start spilling your guts on a first date, you should probably take some time and get to know yourself before getting to know someone else.

7- In the same vein, don’t let the crazy show. Women are nuts. Men are nuts. We’re all nuts. Don’t let the crazy show too soon. If they don’t respond to a text right away, don’t send another one ten minutes later asking why they’re ignoring you and calling them a bitch. Maybe they were just sweeping glitter off the living room floor or having a shower. Just. Fucking. Chill.

8- If you are missing an arm, tell the person before meeting them face to face. It’s rude to shock someone like that.

Have any other advice? Add it. Don’t think this advice applies to you? Think again.

We Need to Talk

Hey! How’s it goin? Did you ever get rid of that stain? I’m doing pretty good.

Listen, I know that we’ve been seeing each other pretty regularly for a few months now and I don’t want to change what we have or anything – it works pretty well for me and I really like just being able to see you when I’m free and whatever. I’m not looking for a huge commitment…but some things just have to change.

I love that I can turn you on so easily. One twist of the wrist and you’re totally revved up, hot and ready to go. I love how wet you get and I absolutely love that you totally bring all my “dirty” out. 

But this morning, you were cold. I know that we normally get together in the evenings, but I was just too tired last night and decided that the morning would be a good idea. A good change. I took off my clothes and at first I thought you were really into it. You were hot and pulsing and instantly wet – I loved it! I loved how you took the sleep right out of my eyes and covered my entire body with yours. But then, halfway through, you just…turned off. You went from a hard stream to a soft trickle. You went cold. I tried and tried again and managed to get you hot once more…but when I tugged on that rod that makes you spurt, I got nothing but a cold trickle. I was resigned. I got down on my knees and finished the job I had started. I was not happy. 

You always seem to do this. Half the time you’re totally up for anything – long or short, you don’t care and you’re just great! But the other half of the time you don’t even turn on. You’re weak and constantly flopping between hot and cold…it’s a pain in the ass and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of just getting going and then you deciding you don’t want to let me finish. I deserve more than this! I deserve someone who is ALWAYS hot and strong! Someone who will ALWAYS be there for me when I need it. Someone who will let me draw the curtain open and shower me with warmth and finish all the jobs I start. Someone who will even, once in a while, let me light a few candles, add some scented oils and relax with them. I can’t believe I shave my legs for you all the time.

If you can’t change, I’m afraid that I’ll have to start going elsewhere. The gym, a friends house…even my workplace can give me what I need. What I deserve. You constantly drain me and my tears get caught in the flow. I’m really sorry it has to be this way, but I just can’t deal with this anymore. And don’t even think of blaming the dishwasher.

Sorry,
Jenny