If you asked PLFM reader Mary how many regrets she has about going on a date with Erin, my guess is she'd say 651.
Her first regret would be going on the date. The other 650 regrets would be the exact word count of today's featured psychotic letter. How do we know that? He counted them for us.
Mary went on a date a while back with a guy she'd met over the internet. He seemed nice enough, so she agreed to a dinner date. Unfortunately things got a little shaky right off the bat.
"Now, he was a nice guy," Mary says, "I wasn't repulsed or anything, but he had some obvious relationship issues. I knew this due to the fact that he talked constantly about bad dates and bad relationships that were "never his fault"."
But he was a nice guy, and being the kind person Mary is, she thought it sounded like this guy really needed a friend. With reservations, she agreed to watch a movie with him at his house.
DJ Pathetic, please cue the ominous music.
At Erin's home, Erin was kind enough to offer Mary a glass of expensive wine. Except he didn't have any expensive wine, nor did he have any glasses. So she got some cheap ass strawberry wine in a plastic cup, which may or may not have had a cartoon mouse on the side glorifying the joys of spelling the word "CAT."
He sat close to her and tried to snuggle, and she leaned away. He tried to kiss her, and she leaned away further. He tried to kiss her again, and she leaned away even further. Mary had only won the Bronze medal in leaning in the 2002 Olympics, so when he tried the third time, Mary was out of leaning room and simultaneously accumulating an impressive layer of wall spackle on the shoulder of her new sweater.
He wanted to play hardball, and she knew what to pitch. "I don't feel any chemistry with you Erin, and I'm not interested in being anything more than friends."
He said "ok." They finished the movie, and Mary got up to leave even before the rolling credits had even identified the name of the 2nd Unit Gaffer. I mean, who doesn't wait around for that shit?
And as she walked towards the door, Erin asked for a second date. She said maybe they could hang out again, but only as friends. Needless to say, they didn't.
Two weeks later, Mary met a new man she really liked, and they began to date.
And here comes Erin, folks. For the kill.
Remember, this is after one fucking date .....
Ladies and Gentlemen, meet Erin in 3 .... 2 .... 1 ....
Hello there. How have you been? Get your marks back from your exams? How's your boyfriend? Care to tell me why you deleted me from MSN? :)
Let me take this time to share a few words, starting with the date we went on.
Forgive me if I sound arrogant right now, but I took you to a nice restaurant where I paid the check, we played Guitar Hero while sipping strawberry wine, and we watched Superbad while cuddling. A lot of girls would say that sounds like a really nice first date. I told you how beautiful you looked, words which I did mean (and no, I was never trying to get inside your pants). I opened up to you saying how much it hurts me for girls to suddenly reject me after appearing to get along with me before, and I told you that it hurts me when I'm blocked and deleted from MSN. You looked me in the eye promising you wouldn't do that to me. And now I see that you've deleted me. You also promised me a second date, yet only about 2 weeks after that night, your Facebook says you're in a committed relationship. 2 weeks. Wow, somebody is sure in a hurry for getting laid.
I can understand if you deleted me had I been an ass to you, or if I became jealous over your new boyfriend. The truth is that I've always been nice to you, and I was supportive of you when you first mentioned that you're now taken. I dare you to find a single chat log where I was anything other than sweet and kind to you. During our date (which you knew I had anticipated for a long time), you looked me straight in the eye while we were cuddling and told me point blank, "I feel no chemistry with you." That really hurt me, it continued to hurt me the rest of that night, and it wasn't necessary to say that during the actual date. You could've left that for our next MSN conversation, but you had to crush my mood for the rest of the night.
It's obvious to me now that you didn't want to be with me during that night, and that after then you decided you never wanted anything to do with me again. That doesn't explain why you acted nice to me on MSN afterwards, using your usual smiley faces and being nice. What good was it to lead me into thinking you still wanted to talk to me when you obviously wanted nothing more of me? Do you actually think that avoiding honest communication was ever doing me a favor? It was only doing you a favor, because you didn't have the backbone to speak your mind.
I really had wanted to make this friendship work and see it possibly become something more, because I had genuinely liked you a lot and you made me happy. I believed you were better than the girls who had hurt me before and who hadn't showed any concern whatsoever, but I was once again proven a fool. The only thing more sad than how all of this has made me is knowing that you will simply delete this message as soon as you're done reading it and never think of it again. You've already decided overnight that I am worth nothing to you, and you will never care about me again. The only reason I wrote you this letter is because I needed to give myself the closure that you have already refused to give me.
You should consider yourself special; I'm likely the only guy to take the effort of writing over 650 words just to tell you to go fuck yourself. Enjoy your life in your own little world. When your relationship fails, and I know it will, be sure you remember this letter and the decent man you threw away. Your conscience isn't finished with you yet.
You seriously need some mental help.
And by the way, notice how I save myself from typing 647 extra words in the next sentence.
Go fuck yourself.