Dear LIP,

I threw your business card away on a Monday night. "Magic-fingers" massage therapist, eh? I disagree. Your touch was pretty meaningless. I realized having you in print would not suffice, it was your words from your lips that I needed, and your insecurity-born silence was too heavy to hold so it fell in the can.

I got your email on a following Tuesday morning. More words in print. The post-it note of the modern man... so 2001. On the positive side, you made me laugh genuinely for the first time since our pseudo relationship began 11 dates ago. You said, "last weeks lack of communication really bothered me."

Notes: 1) No apostrophe in week's. strike one. 2) You walked out on me when I said I was hurt by your negativity. You didn't respond to my text immediately after. You didn't speak to me until Tuesday. strikes two, three, and four. 3) You wrote me a break up email. That's valid communication after 11 dates? strike 5.

Your magic fingers were working hard it seems, typing out excuses for yourself sans punctuation. And what was your second reason for halting a potential relationship with me, a "long lasting relationship that you are looking for at this point in your life"? You got mad at an unfilled prescription. Ironically it was just words on paper, but as you said, "The perscription bothered me more than I thought and brought up a lot of bad memories from my last relationship."

Notes: 4) Nice spelling of prescription. 5) You were bothered by a doctor's hand writing? I don't get it. 6) You're upset at the memories from your last relationship. Hmm... Is this about me? strike, strike, strike...

On our 5th date we went for a walk in Muir Words on rainy day. You wore your skater shoes and worried they'd get dirty. My subconscious contracted in laughter. Then I brought up deal breakers, remember that? We laid it all out on the trail. You said, "lying, lack of passion, mean spirited, narrow mindedness..." and I said "lack of communication, drugs, closed minds, judgmental and unsupportive people..." then you said, "Unfourtunately that combined with last friday I think its became a deal breaker for me sorry."

Notes: 7) Spelling! Unfourtunately? Punctuation! Commas are not being rationed, use them at your leisure, please. Grammar! "its became"? Oh really? 8) You never mentioned your issues with prescriptions and Fridays. Either these new deal breakers are a lie, or you don't know what you want at all. You don't know what's good for you. STRIKE! You're out.

Mr. 31 year old child, you screwed up so colossally! But it's really OK; I realize that it's hard to have skills in this game when you're barely a high school graduate and you have a Calvin and Hobbs tattoo enmeshed in flames and skulls. It must be hard when you're at plate for a thick-skinned woman from the Great Lakes State, with an impressive degree and successful career at 6 years your former. It must be hard to tell the truth in the face of a writer who lacks fear...

I tested the idea that pasts are not presents. I gave opposite a chance to be my match. But here's what I held back and didn't get to say quite so directly: Your past is ugly. Without Narcotics Anonymous you wouldn't even have a high school diploma, and that is nothing to thank. Your teeth are bad - 7 years void of dentists is not becoming on you. (Or is it 'not becaming'?) Anyone who doesn't like Thai or Indian food, or burgers, or milkshakes, or popcorn, anyone like you is not really worth a second date. You suck at taking Car-Bombs. Your "prison" tattoo is the saddest thing I have ever seen... LIP... below the naval like a tramp stamp for pricks. LIP. LIP? I could hear the drum roll before you announced it's proud meaning, and I can still hear it now...

"Living Is Pain"

Well I knew then and there but I kept my own lips shut until I had a story to write on it. LIP below the naval is bullshit. LIP on any part of you from any past part of you is cock-fucking bullshit. It's negative, pessimistic, hopeless, and utterly wrong. You're wrong. You're so so wrong for me.

Since I've told others of this story, you've earned quite a name, and I thought your swelling ego should be let onto the reputation you've acquired:

Ass-bag. Chicken-fuck. Douche. Dick-wad. Cock-tard. Bull Shit. Ass-hole. Fuck-face. Loser.

But to me, you will always be known as LIP. Thanks for the words. Thanks for the memories.

Fuck off and die,

Meredith

PS. You have a short stick and no balls. There are certain requirements to play this game.

PPS. If you 'Come Round Soon'...

PPPS. You'll hear my 'True Affections'