I don't think we should see each other any more. I knew our relationship was a sham from the very beginning.
I know, at first you were very attracted to me. Or at least as attracted as you could be to any random email address in that giant database of people you throw yourself at every day with complete abandon.
But I looked past that loose reputation. When your little ding-a-ling appeared in my inbox, you were just what I needed. The mildly sappy story of loss (both weight and personal) you proffered in an attempt to gain my love hit me at just the right time, like a last-call lemondrop at 1:45 and when you're staring a long night alone right in the face. I was lonely. I needed a blog-worthy item to do with Dallas, and you were there.
It was a one time thing, and I'm sorry you seem to have gotten the wrong idea.
Nothing's ever good enough for you, is it? No, you had your publicist call me five days after our glorious one night stand and accuse me of being mean to you. That is, like, so kindergarten playground. Then, you ask me me remove the blog item from the blogosphere. Oh, but, my dear, I gave you just what you wanted: sweet, sweet publicity.
I thought I was throwing out all the right signals.
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I was wearing my big alternative weekly hat when we met. You could have asked our mutual friend Google about me, and you'd have known what you were getting into. But, sadly, little press release, if you're not going to be discreet about who you jump in the sack with, you can't complain when you wake up with a burning sensation.
Despite that, think of what we made together: semi-sarcastic blog goodness throwing mockery willy-nilly upon the British royal family!
--Used, then abused in Dallas, TX --Andrea Grimes
PS: I'm not really sterile