Open Letters to the Men Who’ve Dumped Me

To the hot, older guy in my graduate psychology class:

I’m flattered that you even gave me the time of day and asked me to dinner after I checked your Facebook account incessantly waiting on you and your long-term girlfriend to break up. Looking back, the issue was definitely not you (congrats on your wife and baby, by the way). I’d like to apologize for opening our date by informing you that I Googled your criminal history and noticed that you’d been incarcerated for a few months in your early 20s for theft. You handled that quite graciously, in addition to not being offended when I asked our waitress for the cheapest glass of wine available. Even though you got back together with your girlfriend shortly after our date, I hope she never told you that I accidentally snooped her LinkedIn profile without realizing that LinkedIn notifies users of who views their profiles. I’m also mortified that I gushed about our date and all of the details with our professor. I don’t blame you for not asking me out again. I’m happy to see that you’re now a successful psychologist, father, and husband – but if any of those things end up not working out, I’m still on Facebook.

To the guy who invited me to his brother’s basement on our first date:

I was really upset when you let me know that you weren’t interested in a relationship with me. In retrospect, I think I know where I went wrong. As a matter of fact, I knew our budding relationship was doomed the second you opened your brother’s front door and commented on the amount of cat hair on my black jeans (I swear I didn’t notice it before I left my apartment). I no longer leave my home without first using a lint roller. I also understand if the faux taxidermy creatures hanging on the walls of my apartment freaked you out. I took them down shortly after you dumped me and hid them in my closet because I realized they probably weren’t doing me any favors in the love department. I’m glad you have a girlfriend now who probably can’t beat you at table tennis like I could. I wish you the best.

To the man from Israel I met at a restaurant in Italy:

I know we only spoke for a few hours, but I am sure you immediately regretted your decision to approach me after you told me you were from Israel and I asked you about the fighting in the Gaza Strip. In hindsight, that was a bit insensitive, but I like to blame it on the fact that I was two Aperol Spritzes deep by that point and I was feeling bold. Maybe it was the fact that you spoke about three different languages while I spoke to our Italian waitress in English, or maybe it was me asking you if you had ever seen an episode of Keeping Up With the Kardashians. To be honest, I don’t know why you sat at my table for so long, especially after my nose started running and you pretended not to notice. I hope you enjoyed the rest of your trip and that you haven’t lost hope in all Americans due to my ignorance.

To the tall, dark, and handsome guy with a luxury vehicle:

I normally take rejection to heart, but it’s hard to take your repulsion of me personally when you never asked me any questions about myself. Maybe it would have worked between us if I had accepted your massive romantic gesture of inviting me over to your house at the last minute at 10:00 p.m. on a Saturday night for our first date. I shouldn’t have expressed concern when you suddenly decided to speed with me in the passenger’s seat. I’ll never forget how sweet it was when I arrived for our date and you stood in the parking lot and drooled over your Mercedes instead of telling me I looked nice. I’m sure you’ll eventually find someone who loves you for your designer shoes and doesn’t mind worshiping the ground you walk on for the rest of her life like you truly desire. Take care.

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