Dear Red-Headed Man

I have to say, I had more fun with you this weekend that I have had with anyone in years. When first faced with the idea of spending a long weekend at this conference, I was daunted, to say the least. Thanks to you, it flew by. And once you and I found a common enemy to savage– it was magical. Do you remember, I know you do, when the awful woman from Phoenix want on a rant about proper funding for something-or-other, and you said, “I don’t know how you can call it proper funding for such an improper idea.” Hilarious. It was a magical moment.

You are one of the wittiest, sharpest people I’ve ever met, and you make me laugh hysterically, and we have more interests in common than I do with even my best friends, but I’m sorry to say, I could never date you. You have red hair, and with that comes the pink “constantly sunburned” looking skin. I find this odd and creepy. Maybe I could get over it. The real reason I can never date you is because you don’t look enough like me. I have brown hair, and you have red hair. Even if I chose to dye my hair, or if you dyed yours (which most guys have been unwilling to do), we would still never look enough alike to satisfy me.

I need to be in a couple where people see the two of us walking down the street and say “are they brother and sister, or sleeping together… or are they both?!” I need to create intrigue without doing a thing. I thrive on it. You may be the man of my dreams in every other way, but unless we do nothing but talk on the phone, we can’t have a real relationship.

I know that a lot of people these days say personal standards have become impossible, I agree with that, that why this is my only real criteria for a significant relationship. I want to stare longingly into a face so like my own that it scares me a little. I want to have children who make people puzzle as to which of us they look like, and in old age, I want us to look like identical shriveled peanuts with brown hair.  This is what I need, and I’m sorry to say, you cannot give it to me.

Good luck with everything in the future

February 3, 2008 Posted by | by theagirl, false, letters | , | Leave a comment

an open letter to 40-year-old virgins who aren’t nearly as cuddly and non-threatening as the main character in the movie of the same name

Dear Sir:

I realize that you were just trying to be friendly, but I have to tell you– you’re friendliness has a distinct air of desperation-bordering-on-scariness about it. I spoke to you because you are an acquaintance of a friend, and because we were sitting next to each other at the bar. Really I would have preferred to watch the TV.

In the spirit of self-improvement I feel I should tell you that mentioning your match.com account within 10 minutes of conversation (not even constant conversation), is not a smooth move. I am happy that you are on facebook, but you will never be a friend of mine on facebook regardless of how many times you mention it. I don’t know if you could tell, but I didn’t want to give you my last name, certainly not a phone number or email address. I could see you hovering and trying to talk to me again when I had turned away to speak with my friends, that is why I kept my back to you. Also, I wasn’t even really involved in the other conversation, I just wanted to shut you out in the hopes that you would go away.

Are you the type of man who at work eats a lot of carrot sticks and yogurt, but only in front of other people? The type who eat that particular lunch every day, never with any enthusiasm, or really lack of enthusiasm, but still everyone who sees you knows that it’s “diet food”. Everyone knows that you eat heathily during the day, but go home and binge on your fattening food of choice. That’s why, even though you consume 120 calories for lunch eat day, and say you exercise regularly, you never get any smaller.

I appreciate the fact that you like and respect old people, but I don’t really care. I’m sure that as a city councilman, it’s necessary to gladhand the seniors, but do we really need to talk about that? Especially since I never gave you any indication that I like old people, or even know any. Why can’t you re-group and think of something else to say if you insist upon talking to me. I feel like you do this often, and to many girls, perhaps you should have a ready list of topics to discuss in case she seems uninterested in hearing about how you LOVE text messaging and are CONSTANTLY getting text messages.

Was it really necessary for your friend to bring his laptop? We went to this event to watch the primary results come in, and there was a giant screen projecting that to the whole room. Also, you had some kind of hand-held device, which I’m sure has internet access, that I’m also sure would have become the topic of conversation if I hadn’t turned around when I did.  Is it that important that you see immediately what Wonkette is saying? Can’t it wait until you return to your empty bachelor pad and eat ice-cream and cheesecake until you feel slightly ill?  You know you’re just going to re-read it anyway.

The reasons you continue to fail with women are many, but very few have anything to do with anything but yourself.  Take this time to re-evaluate your strategies, or just stop trying.


the female population

January 12, 2008 Posted by | by theagirl, Gentleman Callers, letters | , , , | Leave a comment