Love Letters Gone Wrong – Seven
It’s time time for another round of LOVE LETTERS GONE WRONG! Every Friday I feature a LOVE LETTER GONE WRONG written and submitted by an anonymous blogger. Sunday morning I reveal the secret admirer’s identity with a link to the blogger’s home page. If you’d like to submit some truly heinous love letters please send them to email@example.com.
This week’s love letter was written by a blogger who was featured in a SPaM post. Check out this post and then return to the comments here to guess who the secret admirer is. The first correct guess wins a free copy of my ebook.
To whom it may concern,
Listen, enough is enough. You’ve played your little game and I think this has gone on far too long, okay? If you are trying to scare me, it’s totally working. So please, please stop sending me love letters written in blood(complete with the tampon you used to write it), stop calling my home(how the fuck did you even get my phone number) and for the love of god, TELL ME WHAT YOU DID TO MY DOG! The guy who took him told me to stop ignoring you before he knocked me out and that I better jump through the hoops to get the dog back which is exactly what I’ve done!
I think I’ve been a sport, don’t you? I did everything you asked, no questions, but you still won’t do one fucking thing for me, why? Why won’t you give my dog back to me?
Question, was that you in the window of my kitchen? I know it was because there is not one other person that lives around me that would be licking my window at 2 a.m. in the nude. It had to be you. But don’t you live like, 80 states away from me? It’s what you said on your blog, that you live on the east coast, so what the fuck? I’m going to the cops, I’ve had enough.
I thought you were just a like minded blogger when I first commented on that post you wrote, nothing else. It was not meant to be or true love, like you said in each of the nearly 300 emails you wrote. And I wasn’t ignoring you last month, nor was I cheating on you. First off, I don’t even know you and second, we are not a fucking couple. Last month, like I told you before, my grandmother was dying and I needed to be close to her. It was a hard time for me and my family and I shut everyone off, so I really don’t appreciate the flowers you sent to her hospital room with the card reading “Fuck off slut, he’s my man.” My mom said it was the last thing she read before passing ten minutes later. I hate you for that.
One last thing, I don’t like pictures of your vagina reenacting scenes from the film Gone with the wind, though I will say, that one picture where Scarlett is walking the plantation was a very creative use of space. Also, the penis you have playing Rhett is all wrong, Rhett wasn’t black.
Don’t contact me again.