It’s a collection of letters people have written to their former flames. The whole concept has made me think about what I would say to some of my long, lost loves if I had the chance. Nothing quippy has come to me — nothing as insightful and funny as the blurbs in the book. But there are a few things I’d like to get out just the same.
To various romantic interests of my past:
“Every time I put on that pearl necklace you gave me, I remember how I felt with you — beautiful, classy, but not quite right.”
“The fact that you were damaged was your greatest attraction and the reason it didn’t work out.”
“To this day, when I hear Notorious B.I.G.’s ‘Big Poppa’ my first thought is that you’re calling me. Ringtones never die.”
“You were a kickable puppy. I wanted a man.”
“The day I let you hold my new Fossil watch in seventh grade and you gave it to another girl is the day I learned what boys are capable of.”
“You were a cocaine brownie I thought was a regular brownie. I knew you were bad for me. I just didn’t know how bad.”
“You stared me down once, playing pool in some kid’s basement. Sometimes, I can still feel that stare.”
“Now, you’re an atheist. I hope I didn’t push you there.”
Pretty standard sentiments, but I mean them.
Here are some gems from the book:
“You taught me how long I can handle a relationship based solely on sexual chemistry. Seven months.”
“They set us up because we both have trouble sleeping. That should have been a sign.”
“I root for the Giants because of you. My husband has no idea.”
“We could have stayed together longer if you weren’t such a militant vegan. But I will always remember the summer I ate only sides. By August, I saw you as a talking pork chop.”
“When I play air guitar, you’re my air audience.”
That last one almost brought me to tears. If only I were kidding.
Listening to: Notorious B.I.G., “Big Poppa” (For old times’ sake.)