Dear Sperm Donor,
By the time you read this, I'll be in Iraq, serving in whatever ways I’m needed most. I fear that the military is the only way to make our relationship last, and seeing as you're a pacifist, I decided to join. I'm sorry for leaving you this way, but your feelings are inherently less valuable than mine.
I know this might seem like a big sick demented joke in a vortex of meaninglessness to you, seeing as we made all those plans to kidnap a first-grade school class together, but I just don't see things working out that way.
I'm sorry about this — mostly. I just need to find someone who is male and breathes — and quickly.
I want to tell you that I think you are the worst Tetris player ever, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are wanted in nineteen states, and I am on drugs. You like smoking banana peels, lassoing people on subways cars, and watching animal porn, and I'm just not sure I can ever share your joy in those things. How can two people so different ever make it for the long haul? I think we should date our own mirror images. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I see a couple screaming at each other in public.
I'd really like us to become acquaintances, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, at least when we turned the clock forward a few hours and then pretended that something nice happened during that time (whereas nothing at all happened, really).
Take care of yourself and never forget that time when I showed everyone a picture of your penis. That was funny.
May the Force be with you,
~ Princess Peach.
P.S. Do you remember that VHS tape I showed you yesterday, the one with a towel-headed man and a well? If so, you now have six days left to live. Life's a bitch, ain't she? D.S.