Psychotic Letters From Men

PLFM Says Goodbye

2010-02-17T15:09:00.000-08:00

It’s been a great ride folks, and we’d like to thank you for joining us on our little year-long adventure into the bizarre world of highly unstable individuals.

The blog won’t come down as of yet, so if you’re new here, please feel free to peruse some of our highly entertaining entries from the past year.

If you’d like to submit new entries, please email them to the address listed on your right. From this point forward, all submissions will appear back on our original blog WWHM.

Our Twitter will remain the same, and you can still join our WWHM Facebook Fan Club.

If you’d like more information regarding our completely fucked decision to shutdown, you can read it here if you’d like. Believe me, it's boring.

I can’t thank you guys enough for your support over the past year, and I hope you choose to follow us on WWHM despite my drastically reduced posting over the past few months.

Definition: Rebuffed

2010-01-27T09:06:00.000-08:00

Years ago, Andrew dated Carla for a short time.

To put it lightly, Andrew was a fucking dick.

A self-confessed drug addict, manipulative liar and unfaithful louse, Andrew unceremoniously dumped Carla for another woman.

Got it so far?

Let’s flash forward six years later.

Through the magnificently intrusive horror we call Facebook, Andrew locates Carla and decides it might be a good time to ~~try and manipulate her emotions once again~~ make amends.

Hence, Andrew carefully dusted off his beloved velvet smoking jacket, lit a fire in the study, and lovingly invited his long hair cat Persicles to nest in his lap as a muse.

Lighting his corn cob pipe, he poured himself a tiny glass of sherry and longingly touched quill pen to parchment, in want of expressing lonely, lost truths.

And there he found it.

His “feelings.”

He pondered what could have been … nay … what should have been.

And then, of course, he composed a vomit-inducing, remarkably self-absorbed ode to his own pain.

Oh, how he hurts.

He wanted to undo what he had once done …

He wanted to right his wrongs …

He wanted to …

Oh, fuck it.

Position your barf bucket.

(click picture for original size)

(It has come to my attention this exchange was stripped from a site called LameBook. Here's their entry:

http://www.lamebook.com/happilee-married

Thanks MG!)

PLFM Quickies: Cat Thoughts

2010-01-21T06:09:00.000-08:00

Amy admits she made a very poor decision ten years ago, when she unfortunately agreed to marry a man she met over the internet named Alan.

The relationship seemed somewhat normal for, oh, about a month or so, whereupon Alan suddenly transformed into what Amy calls a “psychotronic nutbot.”

Alan not only threatened to kill Amy, but also repeatedly threatened to kill her beloved cat, Tiss.

Amy quickly divorced his crazy ass, and soon discovered Alan had taken up with another young woman in San Francisco. According to Amy, that poor woman had to fake her own death in order to get away from Alan.

Well, ten years later, guess who decides to send Amy an email out of the blue?

Alan!

So what’s up, Alan?

From: Alan
To: Amy

I started to think about Tiss lately.

I suddenly realize she is getting old.

Yes, I miss her. I just start to worry. Please keep me up to date about her.

Ten years later, and all of the sudden you “miss” a cat that you once repeatedly threatened to kill?

Amy responds:

From: Amy
To: Alan

You threatened to kill her once, why would I send you news about her? If I wanted you in my life or my cat's life, you would hear from me. We are not friends. Stop trying to pretend that we are. I keep every email you send me and blind copy it to someone else so that if I need to get a restraining order I can.

But of course, Alan had to have the last word:

From: Alan
To: Amy

I was nice to you to send you back your stuff. Now you write something like this.

Forget it. Just forget it.

Karma will get you. It starts now.

You are now in my kill file.

Amy adds:

“I haven't heard from him again online, but he showed up at a science fiction convention that I was at and yelled "Pedophile" at me 2-3 times. I have no idea why.”

PLFM Presents: It's All Your Fucking Fault!

2010-01-21T03:21:00.000-08:00

Today we take a little trip back to the old PLFM you all know and love: A controlling, drug-addled and habitually unemployed infant of a man ultimately threatens to murder his wife, at which point she finally decides to leave him for her own personal safety.

In response, said infant sends his ex-wife a letter detailing how the end of their marriage was actually all her fault, and really he did nothing wrong because, well, his psychologist once told him that threatening to kill your wife is actually a “pretty normal” occurrence. In the same way, we suppose, that finding your psychology degree in a box of Chocolate Boo-Berry cereal is a “pretty normal” occurrence.

Heidi ran away from an abusive father at 17 years of age, and readily admits to PLFM “I was completely ripe for a new abusive relationship, because I had no idea what a healthy relationship looked like.” Of course, Heidi flew into the first set of open arms to accept her, and those arms belonged to a man named Phil. Unfortunately, in a sign of things to come, Phil’s open arms not only accepted her, but also extracted a $20 bill from her purse.

Heidi and Phil ended up attending the same college together. While Heidi busied herself with endless coursework and held down several jobs to pay her way through school, Phil received a steady supply of checks from his parents to pay for tuition, textbooks and rent. Not a problem for most people, if Phil had actually spent that money on tuition, textbooks and rent.

Rather, Phil liked to spend his parent’s money on booze, video games, comic books, and a LOT of marijuana. When rent or tuition inevitably came due, Phil’s preferred method of payment was a pair of outstretched and empty palms, accompanied by a river of tears. “If you don’t pay for it, my parents will stop sending me checks,” he’d whine to Heidi, his tears ultimately falling to the floor and forming the words “Boy, I sure hope she falls for this.”

Tired of paying his way and literally running out of places to hide her ATM card, Heidi took on yet another job: Finding employment for Phil. Heidi first got Phil a job cooking eggs in a local dorm for two hours each morning, which lasted three weeks. He showed up late, left early, and took way too many unscheduled breaks to smoke pot, which, to his credit, “they didn’t tell him he couldn’t do.”

Heidi subsequently found Phil another job with her own employer, a call center that captioned telephone calls for the deaf. Phil repeatedly arrived late, or came to work only to leave five minutes later. Heidi learned Phil would punch in, then cross the street to smoke pot and hang out in his favorite comic book store. When Heidi tried to intervene, Phil would always scream “Stop coddling me, I’ll be back!”, causing Heidi to feel somewhat jealous of her hard-of-hearing customers. Phil would return each day, but was fired one month later for typing sexual obscenities into the computer program used to help handle calls for the deaf.

Phil eventually found a “job” selling his own plasma, which not only paid for several month’s worth of marijuana, but also caused a 726% increase in the sales of Funions, Cheese-Puffs and Sno-Balls to local hemophiliacs. But the job “didn’t pay enough for rent,” and Phil often came up empty-handed at the end of the month. Adds Heidi: “During the couple of times that we couldn't make rent, he would call his parents and tell them, "Heidi spent too much money on food, she didn't budget right," and then his parents would get on the phone with me and scold me for not taking better care of their son.”

Now, for those PLFM readers who belong to the “Always Blame the Woman at the Center of the Story” club, PLFM will now allow 5 minutes for you to soak your torches in gasoline.

Heidi figured Phil was just going through that “college phase” of irresponsibility and financial hardship, and of course things would change once they got out into the real world. As such, Heidi accepted Phil’s hand in marriage just before graduation, with Phil’s parents offering to foot the bill for the wedding. “I think primarily because they suspected after I graduated, I'd start to wonder what the hell I was still doing with this man-child,” says Heidi.

Unfortunately, her suspicions were confirmed when she overheard Phil’s parents regularly taking cracks at the couple after the wedding, such as “We’re just glad she married him before she found out what he was REALLY like! HA HA HA!” Then, as an encore, Phil’s parents would often scoop up a defenseless kitten, bite it open with their teeth, and smear the entrails all over their faces as lightning bolts flashed in the background.

Needless to say, things did not get better.

Phil injured his wrist just prior to graduation while completely wasted out of his mind. Phil had neglected to purchase the health insurance his father had provided money for, so upon graduation Heidi immediately found herself knee-deep in medical bills while Phil stayed at home in bed nursing his wounds, playing video games, and sucking on a large bong for weeks on end.

No matter how hard Heidi worked, she simply couldn’t keep up with the bills. Soon the money all but dried up, and when the money disappeared so did all of Phil’s pot-smoking buddies. With no job or friends to occupy his time, Phil spent the ensuing months attempting to control Heidi’s relationships with her family and friends.

Heidi often tried to make overtures toward her long-lost mother and sister, but Phil took every opportunity to derail Heidi’s plans. Says Heidi: “Whenever I spoke to them, or talked about speaking to them, he would refer to my family as "trash," and talk about how amazing it was that I had managed to grow up smart and pretty from such a bunch of "worthless trash.” He would tell me he understood how hard it must be for me to keep myself from being a ‘trashy person’ like them.”

Phil referred to Heidi’s female friends as “crack whores,” and every time Heidi tried to speak with a male acquaintance on the telephone, Phil would stand behind her and sing at the top of his lungs until she hung up the phone. When Phil introduced Heidi to his friends, he often said "You should have seen Heidi when I met her, she was so fucked-up and trashy, hanging out with these people; she's lucky I put up with it."

Yeah, Phil, with no job and absolutely no life, you’re a real fucking rabbits foot.

As the months morphed into years, still-unemployed Phil began to shadow Heidi constantly around the apartment, kicking her cat (literally) and demanding ever-increasing amounts of money and sex. He smashed the walls of the apartment and told his friends he “needed a new fiancé.” He left it up to Heidi to provide for all of his rent, bills, and necessities like food and marijuana.

Until one day, when a funny thing happened.

Heidi met a man named Mark at work.

Mark was brilliant, kind, and good-looking. He was motivated. He had a good job, loved his work, and had a zest for life Heidi had never seen before. He had a wide variety of hobbies and interests outside of work, and loved to talk to Heidi about her life and her dreams for the future.

Heidi suddenly heard a dinner bell, and realized it came from her pants.

She didn’t even know guys like this existed.

Mark and Heidi quickly developed a close friendship, but Heidi never stepped over the line. Yet having to see Mark every day only increased her sudden longing for him, until she finally decided to have a discussion with Phil regarding her newfound feelings for Mark. “I told my husband, ‘I think I'm in love with another man, and it's made me realize how unhappy I am with you,” Heidi says. “Things need to change if I'm going to stay with you."

Well, things did change.

Immediately.

Phil packed up all of their belongings and moved them out of state.

Into his parent’s basement.

With Phil’s medical bills still unpaid, Heidi felt she had no other choice but to go along. She knew she could never afford a new apartment by herself.

“I worked odd jobs in restaurants to support him,” says Heidi, “while he cried at home (in the basement) about how his hand was fucked up, his wife was leaving him, and he couldn't even smoke pot anymore.”

After six months, Phil finally threatened to kill Heidi and Mark.

Heidi knew the gig was up.

We’ll let Heidi take it from here, followed by Phil’s final letter.

Heidi:

The night I told him I wanted a divorce, he raped me, which is the "making love" he refers to. (I've come to understand he thinks it was all very romantic).

After I left him, I got constant emails and voicemails. They were at first little one-liners about "Don't you miss me? I miss you. Do you think about me? Do you love me?" Then they became nastiness about "Why haven't you gotten the divorce papers filed yet? They'd really help me get laid right now."

“I hadn't gotten the divorce papers filed because I didn't have the money, and he wouldn't pay me the money he owed me, and he sure as shit wasn't going to pay for the divorce, and he was threatening to make a whole expensive legal mess if I tried to file divorce papers without, like, going out to dinner with him and answering his phone calls first.”

“I tried responding to his emails, but they just got pushier and crazier each time. Finally, he just showed up at my house and wouldn't leave, which was really scary. I got him to leave by promising to call him.”

“I did not have an affair while he rotted in bed, I was working extra hours to afford his medications; no, I did not “fool him” into thinking we could start over after I told him I wanted a divorce, I did not let him think things were okay by making love; he raped me. Everything he’s saying is so crazy and vile, to argue it is to give it validity.”

After a few more months of harassing phone calls and emails, Heidi received the following email from Phil. Remember, Heidi never had an affair with Mark while she was married to Phil.

PLFM took the liberty of highlighting the word “you” every time Phil assigns blame in Phil’s letter to Heidi. Look carefully, and you just might discover who Phil feels is primarily responsible for the collapse of their marriage.

Take it away, Phil.

Heidi,

There is a high possibility that this will be the last time we have any form of meaningful communication. Inevitably, there will be things I need to badger you about; little meaningless trivial details over photographs and loans. But aside from that, we may never speak again.

Where to begin? First off, I still love you. I’m sorry you couldn’t gather up the energy to actually try to work this out with me. Secondly, I’m sorry for a lot of things I’m about to say.

It was a cheap shot when we last spoke to bring up the fact I could pursue alimony. I said it because I was angry, because you’d threatened me with cops. It wasn’t meant as a threat. I brought it up because frankly, you betrayed me. you lied to me. And you treated my family and I like shit. The fact that I could pursue legal recourses with you has less to say about my vindictive personality, and a lot more to do with how many mistakes you made over the last six months of our marriage.

On more than one occasion, you told me that you wondered if you were a good person. I inevitably told you not to worry, that you were a good person, that you had the capability for being even better. Now I wonder.

For six months I tried to atone and redeem myself. I opened up to you, and all you did was hold it against me. You had an affair, and when I voiced my concerns and my anger about it, you acted like I was fucking insane. It took going to a marriage counselor for you to even realize that there might be a problem with how you were acting.

After pleading, and cajoling and arguing with you to no avail eventually I reached my limit. I told you, under extremely bad circumstances that I felt like killing you and Mark. A statement that while understandably creepy, my psychologist assures me is fairly normal.

And why not?

You weren’t ever going to stop having the affair, and isn’t it easier to justify betraying someone you love if you can paint them like a monster? Fairy tale romances are a lot easier after all, when your flabby knight in sweaty armor can save you.

Looking back on that, I’m sickened.

Considering how unhappy your childhood was, considering your own unpleasant thoughts, considering your experience and knowledge of psychology, considering how you knew how unhappy and distraught I was, you instead used an omission I made at a moment of great personal weakness to help you justify your affair.

Because the alternative would have meant looking at me like a person instead of as a monster. What cowardice. Worse, what hypocrisy. You never let me get away with shit like that. Your mental problems were of limits to criticism. But fuck me.

You just wanted what was ever easier at that moment. When I was wasting my life smoking pot and staring blankly at wall, denial was the easiest option. But when I came to, realized how much of a fuck I’d been, realized how much of my life I’d wasted and how badly I’d treated you, suddenly it was all out in the open.

And you had two choices: you could work with me or you could just let it slide until you finally gave up.

And then Mark came along, and while I convalesced in our apartment incapable of moving from pain killers, you had an affair.

And when I demanded that you work with me, you said you’d try, but you didn’t do a goddamn thing.

And when you finally got up the guts to say you were leaving and I broke down crying and begged you to stay, you acquiesced, because that was easier. So you put on a fake fucking smile and made love to me and all the while it was a lie. You cowardly fuck.

When you told me one thing and then did another that made you a liar and a betrayer. When you hid yourself from me, when you held me to a standard you would never hold yourself, that made you a hypocrite.

When you did nothing but wait for our relationship to end all the while saying that you loved me, when you told me we may have a chance rather than break cleanly, when you hid from me afterwards and threatened to call the cops, that made you a hypocrite.

And after my family helped support you for finances, clothing, food, love and almost a grand in driver’s lessons you left in the night without saying goodbye, thanking them or frankly, anything. And there’s a word for a woman who takes and takes and takes until it no longer suits her interests; it’s called a whore.

[Editor’s Note II: His parents only offered financial support because all of Heidi’s earned money went to pay for his medical bills. Because he never purchased the insurance he was supposed to buy in the first place.]

So if you’re still reading, congratulations, that’s all of the vitriol and anger I’ve been repressing for six months and that has sent me through a roller coaster of hell since the divorce. A lot of this I’m sure is just my aching, bleeding heart. Particularly the insults. But a lot of it is true. I loved you. I still do. It hurts, and I hate you, but I still love you to death.

But I look at what you did to me and my family and I have nothing but bitterness. And now you’re dragging another poor fuck into your life, who when the going gets tough you’ll discard like so much garbage. At least this one’s enough of a loser that it’ll be easier.

I love you. But you tore out my heart and then took a big steaming shit on it. If you ever want to speak to me again, in any fashion that goes beyond business, we’ll need to talk about this. I spent six months trying to atone while all you did was get your own punches in. My soul is hardly clean, but at least I know I tried.

I doubt you can make the same statement.

Well, that was refreshing, no?

And yes, Heidi is now in a relationship with Mark.

Thank God.

Freedom of Information

2009-12-20T01:30:00.000-08:00

(Note to readers: All names in the following post have been changed. The pictures have been altered to hide the identity of the offender. I know a lot of readers would prefer I post everything, and legally we're entitled to, but we really don't need to go there in order to get the point of our story across.)

Today's PLFM entry all began innocently enough.

Now, as most of you know, our busy WWHM office produces two blogs simultaneously. Our original blog, Why Women Hate Men-The Blog, re-posts preposterously clueless and pathetic male personal ads submitted by our female readers, whereby we instruct our hard-working staff to mercilessly flog the original author of those ads like an uncooperative mule.

Our second blog, Psychotic Letters From Men, emerged from the swamp only six months later in response to the hordes of female WWHM readers who began to submit their own personal stories of pathetic and / or abhorrent male behavior, many of which contained original and delightfully voyeuristic copies of threatening emails, bizarre letters, and, of course, the accompanying restraining orders.

Yet sometimes we receive correspondence which could land on either blog, and today we opened up just such an email.

WWHM reader DM recently submitted a large batch of moronic personal ads to Why Women Hate Men- The Blog, the last of which she highlighted "This is my personal favorite!" in red text.

Brimming with excitement, we hastily adjusted our crotchless briefs, put down our bear claw, and focused our weary, bloodshot eyes onto the computer screen. Unfortunately, we felt a bit let down when we found this complete snore of a personal ad:

Lets be realistic -34M

I am a cute athletic guy that looks younger than I am. I am single no kids just a cute little puppy. I am straight edge. I have a reserved laid back personality but I can be very direct and forward too. I am not shy at all either. I have a sales background mostly in mortgages.

More about me .... I like sports, I play everything soccer, volleyball, golf, mt bike and more. I went to XXXXX to be a gym teacher before I got into sales and I used to coach youth sports for my younger siblings. I like playing ps3 video games like call of duty 2 with my younger brother or Wii golf with my dad. With a girl I just like to watch movies and enjoy some quality time together. I tend to be a homebody not into the bar scene or clubbing.

I am looking for someone drama free and someone who also wants to be happy with me. Any race and legal age is fine. Please no drugs or smoking. I have a facebook and myspace so if you contact me send me your links and a pic of yourself in the reply. I also have aim and yahoo messenger chat so we can get to know each other better that way first.

Seth

Hmmmm.

Not too bad of an ad, though certainly not WWHM material. He's single, athletic, close to his family, relatively good-looking, and he openly expresses his affection for kids and animals.

Sounds like someone you might enjoy making a casserole with, snuggling up to in front of Sleepless in Seattle, or perhaps a man you might even choose to marry and engage in horrifically boring missionary-style sex with once a month for the rest of your life.

Perplexed with her submission to WWHM, we checked back with reader DM's email, only to find a little explanation below the link she provided:

"Why is that my favorite you ask? Because it has a reply attached to it!"

Sure enough, the public dating forum Seth utilized allows visitors to post replies, and it appears a nice young woman discovered a little bit more about Seth than he was willing to disclose upfront. As such, she attached the ensuing response underneath his personal ad:

ok, lets really be realistic.

im not really here to judge you however since you are a registered sex offender who is really only out for sex maybe you should put that in your add. I guess its a good thing that you dont have a degree in teaching gym since you wouldnt be able to as a registered sex offender.

Point is is that when you are online looking for someone maybe you should include that if they arent willing to sleep with you on the first date your not interested considering when WE talked and i stated that i wasnt interested in sex that i wanted a long term relationship i suddenly wasnt good enough anymore.

It then also didnt take much to google your name and megans law to see that you are a registered sex offender.

Which you never told me.

Ouch.

We suspect Seth didn't receive many replies after that pleasant little note landed underneath his personal ad.

Are we done?

Not even close.

The above accusation is pretty serious, so we wouldn't post this story without the ability to somehow verify it's authenticity.

Fortunately, Seth left a direct link (which PLFM deleted) to his YouTube channel, where he invited women to come view some of his "funny videos" before they replied to his personal ad. Unfortunately for Seth, the title of his YouTube channel also contains his real name, which PLFM then cross-referenced with his listed hometown.

PLFM then plugged his name directly into the publicly available court records of the state in which he currently resides, and sure enough, look who popped up:

Gross, you say?

Gross indeed!

But it gets worse.

PLFM spent some time perusing a few of Seth's court records in order to determine the exact nature of Seth's original arrest. Occasionally we hear of cases where 16 year-old males find themselves forever branded "sex offenders" for having consensual sex with their 15 year-old girlfriends, which we personally feel is a complete load of horseshit. The states that still carry these laws on the books seriously need to pull their heads out of their collective asses, and we wanted to make sure this wasn't the case with Seth.

It wasn't.

While we couldn't determine the exact nature of the arrest that led to Seth's "sex offender" status, we found quite a few other recent arrests that might be of interest to any woman currently perusing the internet for potential mates.

Seth's recent arrest record includes, but is not limited to:

Display of Obscene Sexual Materials
Multiple Harassment Charges
Corruption of Minors
Statutory Sexual Assault
XXXXXX - Person less than 16 Years of Age (charge X'd to anonymize state)
Intimidation of Witnesses
Retaliation against Witnesses
Disorderly Conduct (Hazardous and Physical)
Providing False / Misleading Testimony
Disorderly Conduct (Obscene Language)
Criminal Trespassing
Criminal Mischief

...and, worst of all, a speeding infraction for driving 2-15 mph over the speed limit!

Seriously, who would want to date someone with such wanton disregard for our nation's well-rounded traffic regulations? Disgusting!

Anyway, reading through a few of the online court dockets can provide even more insight into Seth's self-proclaimed "drama-free," "reserved," and "laid-back personality."

According to one court docket:

(Seth) agreed to meet K.P., a minor, at the XXXXXXXXX Mall in March of this year.

K.P. entered the mall with a friend and saw (Seth). (Seth) appeared older than he had represented to K.P. online, so K.P. and her friend walked past without acknowledging (Seth). (Seth) saw K.P. and her friend leaving the mall approximately 30-45 minutes later.

(Seth) followed K.P. to her car, jumped on the hood, and kicked the right fender. The cost to repair the damage, which the court determined was caused by (Seth) jumping on the hood and kicking the fender, totaled $1.535.57.

According to his personal ad, Seth seeks a woman with whom he can "watch movies and spend quality time together," which somewhat contradicts the evidence presented against him in court during just one recent harassment charge:

On XX-XX-XX, Seth emailed his ex-wife and demanded to know her current address, saying "tell me or I will find out on my own, and that will make me more angry than I am now!"

On XX-XX-XX, Seth repeatedly called his ex-wife, hanging up several times and leaving at least one long, obscene and threatening voice message around 11:42 PM. In this message, Seth said, in pertinent part, "You don't fucking ignore me like this! Now I'm gonna have a problem! I'm gonna have to teach you a Fucking lesson you goddamn bitch! When I say call me, you fucking call me!"

On XX-XX-XX (the ex-wife) filed a criminal complaint.

On XX-XX-XX, Seth called (ex-wife's) house while Trooper XXXXXXX of the XXXXXXX State Police was present. The Trooper directed Seth to stop calling (ex-wife). Seth did not follow Trooper XXXXX's advice. Seth called back while the Trooper was still there.

On XX-XX-XX, Seth sent (ex-wife) a two-page long threatening email, saying (in part) "i have not burnt down your new house you just bought either even though i should cause you don't (sic) deserve to have a house .. . do not make any mistakes with me."

On XX-XX-XX Trooper XXXXXXX filed a criminal complaint (against Seth).

On XX-XX-XX Seth emailed (ex-wife) saying "I left a message for you to contact me via email and you did not. Instead I learned that you directed my calls to the police where I also learned you tried to file a complaint against me. . . This is the second time you have made the mistake of getting the police involved in our personal business and this is the last time I will give you a chance to correct your mistake . . . You will reverse everything you have done. You will terminate any and all complaints made against me and when I call your phone I am to get you, not the police. You will also talk to me whenever I want to talk to you for as long as you live . . . You must realize that after everything that happened to me in my life, both recent and in the past, now there are days when I care and there are days when I do not care and I'm just taking each day as it comes. I'm not afraid of anything, therefore, I could do anything at any time."

The court then states:

In repeatedly threatening (ex-wife) and continually calling and emailing her after being asked to desist, both by (ex-wife) and by a State Police Officer, Seth was harassing, annoying, and alarming his ex -wife. In particular, inflammatory language like "I'm not afraid of anything, therefore, I could do anything at any time," "This is the last time will give you a chance to correct your mistake," "Do not make anymore mistakes with me " and "That will make me more angry than I am now" was clearly designed to alarm the victim.

The numerous attempts also clearly satisfy the repeated conduct requirement in the harassment statute.

Seth's defense at trial centered on his assertion that there was a legitimate purpose for his attempts to contact his ex-wife. As he summarized in his closing argument, "[it] was because of XXXXXXX related issues" related to XXXXXXXXX the two had previously shared. (Ed. note: Not children)

Disregarding all communications other than the threats, Mr. XXXXXXX has still engaged in repeated communication which serves no legitimate purpose.

So, how might you feel about dating this guy now?

Had enough?

We have, and in all honesty, Facts of Life comes on in 10 minutes. According to Comcast, it's the episode where Tootie gets caught smoking a cigarette at a party, and everyone acts like she just shot the fucking Pope. We gotta go.

But first, let's resolve the purpose of our post so we can all feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Dating online involves inherent risks. You have no fucking idea who you are about to meet. Just because he's a good-looking attorney doesn't mean shit.

PLFM effortlessly acquired all the information posted in this blog entry in less than three minutes, and we didn't even make the unfortunate mistake of blowing Seth in his car first.

Ironically, in producing a blog about stalkers, we've learned quite a bit about how they operate. We suggest you turn the tables by utilizing the same stalker tactics when researching your potential online dates. Which you should do. It's easy stuff, and well worth your efforts.

Nearly every state, county and city posts all criminal records online, and some even post civil cases online. You can determine whether your potential date has recently murdered someone, or whether they have 16 lawsuits currently pending in civil court for failing to pay a debt. Divorce cases, child custody battles, this stuff is all posted online for free in many states. Or, if you'd like, you can pay some hack online search company $50 to find the same information you can get yourself for free in three minutes. Fun!

PLFM also learned stalkers can find surprisingly good results by cutting and pasting email addresses into the Google search bar. Often, you can determine which forums a person might visit, and even read their posts. In fact, as we've mentioned before, that's exactly how we discovered one of the stories we posted to our blog wasn't exactly truthful. Thanks, stalkers!

(Sound of everyone googling their own email addresses.)

Of course, we're not just picking on men here, as this same advice applies to men trying to find out about women they're interested in dating. You won't get off the hook that easily, ladies, and you have to admit there's quite a few of you out there that are just a few croutons short of a salad.

If you've recently met someone online who didn't exactly turn out to be what they claimed, please feel free to post it in the comments.

(After producing WWHM Blogs for over a year now, we're determined to earn one US dollar for our efforts. As such, we've teamed up with Babeland, a classy, reputable female owned and operated sex boutique with four stores in Seattle and New York, as well as Amazon.com. If you'd like to buy anything off Amazon, please just link to Amazon through one of our unsightly, box-like banners!)

PLFM Presents: How to Get Your Ass Fired

2009-12-14T04:37:00.000-08:00

A few of our dedicated readers recently alerted PLFM to some drama transpiring over on LiveJournal, and since the source of the drama falls directly in line with our particular subject matter, we're going to re-post the offending email and let you guys take a little peek at exactly what went down.

On that note, put your creep mittens on.

We've covered quite a few stories here on PLFM regarding work relationships gone awry. In extreme cases, the offender blatantly threatens, harasses and stalks our victims. In other cases, however, we come across situations where the male offender readily admits they may have crossed over the line of acceptable workplace behavior, yet feels everything has been completely blown out of proportion.

Today, you'll decide.

Here's the background:

Let's say you find yourself working in a dead-end retail job. In all likelihood, you hate your job and the insufferable morons you have to deal with on a day-to-day basis, but you have mouths to feed, bills to pay, and you don't necessarily want to live in a cardboard box anytime soon.

So you go to your shitty retail job every day, you grin and bear it, and at the end of the night you clock out content you just bought yourself another day of survival until something better comes along.

Then you show up to work one day only to find the following email in your inbox, sent from a certain male co-worker with whom you've only briefly exchanged a few pleasantries:

You really should just close the message and go about your day. This is the kind of letter that you write and then promptly burn. I'm not fond of following the rules so I sent it anyway. Seriously though, this is not going to be an easy message.

You've made an appearance in my dreams twice now. This is not good. You make me uncomfortable enough irl. The second dream was more significant than the first. You were the hero, and you saved my life from some pirates who were after me. I suppose I should be thanking you.

Could you think about... How many conversations have you had with me that weren't in someway work related...1? maybe 2? Even off the clock I think the only real time I've spent talking to you was showing you my ipod...but even that is work related. Even then, I was terribly uncomfortable.

This is because life has taught me that I have no business associating with the pretty people. Even after moving through several churches growing up, I was just never accepted. There isn't anything I can do about my face. It's not my fault. I've extended true efforts of genuine friendship toward people time and time again, only to get treated like a disease.

I can't control my dreams, so you're my only hope. Please stay out. Please?

You didn't accept my 2nd friend request and I can understand. I could be reacting prematurely. Maybe you haven't seen the 2nd one yet. Honestly though, I'm surprised you accepted it the first time. Thank You though. That was a huge confidence builder at a time when I needed it the most.

No one should have to suffer through a letter like this from a coworker. This will be my last communication with you apart from work.

The strong warning at the start of this is because I do not wish to have a discussion about this letter. Especially at work. I'm sorry, if this is has made you terribly uncomfortable. I'm sorry if you hate me.

You are unequivocally everything I've ever liked about any girl I've ever liked. However, You should be thrilled to know that I have no interest in you romantically. I know your name isn't Sarah, does that count for anything? Do you really drive to/from XXXXXXX all the time?

I'm sorry that you read this. However, If you didn't read it, Thank You so very much.

Got it?

Of course, now you're expected to just go out on the floor and work side-by-side with this guy all day long and just pretend you never got the letter.

Sound feasible?

David certainly didn't have a problem with it, so he emailed this exact letter to one of his female co-workers. Unfortunately, she did have a problem with it, and consequently turned the letter over to upper management.

David promptly found his ass fired on the spot.

David didn't take his sudden termination lightly, so he decided to re-post the letter in front of thousands of people on LiveJournal in what appears to be a somewhat hare-brained scheme to garner some sympathy from the masses:

I understand how that could make someone uncomfortable, but after dreaming about her twice I.Was.Freaking.Out.

Store manager is claiming this was harassment, but I can't find anything in hours of reading about various laws that will support this isolated message as harassment.

The thing that sucks the most is when I came back from my lunch I was planning on apologizing to her. I wrote a note on my lunch with only her first name on the front and inside it says "I am sorry"

Instead, I was fired.

Sounds like someone's fishing for a little hug, no?

Needless to say, David's misguided plea for sympathy backfired in an absolutely catastrophic manner. Hundreds of LiveJournal members, male and female, descended upon David's ravaged carcass to literally strip meat from bone. To make matters worse, David slipped up when defending himself and not only admitted that he knew she had a boyfriend, but that he himself has a fiance. Touche!

David now says he deeply regrets sending the email, though we surmise this might have a bit to do with the relentless onslaught of deep and soulful ass-poundings he currently finds himself enduring on LiveJournal, along with the relative lack of ass-slapping he will now likely receive in the confines of his own bedroom.

A few supporters have heroically come to David's aid, claiming this case constitutes just another example of "man-hating" women overreacting to a man's simple overture of fondness for a woman, but the vast majority of participants call it an easy case of sexual harassment in the workplace.

While PLFM found David's initial letter creepy enough to print within the confines of our half-assed blog, we didn't find it nearly as creepy as the idea of pursuing a half-assed, attention-seeking apology note scribbled on the inside of a wrinkled lunch bag.

In the comments section, please feel free to address whether David's letter might have creeped you out, and whether you feel his email warranted an immediate termination.

Unpredictable PLFM Updates Now 80% Less Annoying With Twitter!

2009-12-13T05:42:00.000-08:00

We've been going through some issues folks, and when this shit-for-brains goes through issues, the WWHM Blogs temporarily have to take a back seat.

Fortunately, I finally pulled my head out of my own ass and opened a Twitter account, so you don't have to keep checking back to see whether I've updated Why Women Hate Men- The Blog or Psychotic Letters From Men.

Sign up, and I'll automatically notify you each and every time a new post goes up on either blog.

In addition, you can join the WWHM Facebook Fan Club here, and I just discovered PLFM has a Fan Club too, which you can find here. Both clubs will automatically notify you when I put up a new post.

Thanks for sticking by me in my absence folks, and please remember to send me your unedited psychotic letters! On a side note, men CAN send me Psychotic Letters From Women as well. We look forward to finally posting one on PLFM!

For you folks new to PLFM, please click on "Older Posts" below and start rummaging through over 60 entries full of our trademark psychotic behavior.

Ye Olde Fiancé

2009-09-05T01:00:00.000-07:00

Andie developed a certain fascination with British men at a very young age.

Raised on a steady diet of Brit-pop bands like Duran Duran and the British TV series The Adventures of Black Beauty, Andie spent much of her teen years dreaming about someday landing her own version of Simon LeBon.

Now 36 years-old and well past the smarmy influences of her teen years, Andie admits she still gets a bit weak in the knees every time she hears a refined British accent. She hasn't exactly been holding out for a British guy, but her past certainly might help explain her current 500-count pure mutton bedsheets.

Andie's best friend Sarah recently came across a nice looking British gentleman on the popular dating site match.com, so of course Sarah couldn't help but pass along his profile to Andie. Andie didn't belong to match.com, but she perused the gentleman's profile for a few minutes and she certainly liked what she saw.

Simon was a single and successful British construction foreman living in Andie's hometown of Minneapolis, and Simon's profile reflected both his intelligence and a dry, witty sense of humor. He was handsome, and contrary to our American stereotype of the British, his teeth didn't resemble an unkempt picket fence in rural Wyoming. Acting on a whim, Andie joined match.com and fired off a letter of interest to Simon.

Simon quickly responded with his own email, which Andie describes in her letter as "charming, friendly, and non-creepy." And as we all know here on PLFM, that's like getting a visit from the fucking Prize Patrol. Andie and Simon agreed to meet for a brief brunch the following weekend.

"Brief" it was not.

Simon and Andie spent nearly four hours together that morning, flirting and laughing and pretty much carrying on like a bunch of loose-moraled schoolgirls. Simon was much more attractive in person than his online pictures had indicated, and his voice instantly reduced her to a pasty marmalade. "I felt the long forgotten, floaty, butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling," says Andie. After breakfast, Simon walked Andie to her car and gave her a hug, followed by a round of passionate kissing that may have thrilled the participants, but likely caused innocent passersby to struggle with their recently ingested shrimp cocktails.

Simon sent her a few cute texts after their date, and called Andie three days later to ask her out again. Their second date went even better than the first, and from that point forward the two became virtually inseparable. Simon eventually confessed he had never felt like this about a woman before, and Andie felt exactly the same way about Simon. "You won't be my girlfriend for long, you know," Simon said with a wry smile, "I'm the marrying kind."

And so we begin a look at one of hundreds of Simon's gushy emails .... a few of which we'll disperse throughout this post.

From: Simon XXXXXXXXXXXX
To: Andie XXXXXXXXXXXXX

I hope your back feels better and you didn't work too hard on your day off.

Talking with you this morning was wonderful and it made my Monday morning feel like a Friday afternoon. Thank you!

I am so looking forward to seeing you on Thursday and know that the week will drag until then! Have a great Tuesday!

Simon
soppy pic but couldn't help myself (just don't tell anyone I'm a real softy, ok?)

If you ever wonder how the United States defeated the British Army in 1776, the last part of that email might help explain it. Softies.

In the ensuing weeks, Simon and Andie enjoyed romantic dinners and spent an endless string of passionate nights together. They took long walks in the park, and Simon happily introduced Andie to his beloved dog Rugby. Andie had never felt so much passion for a man in her life. They went on shopping sprees together, with Simon even footing the bill for a $500 trip to Victoria's Secret as the accompanying receipt attests:

From: Simon XXXXXXXXXXXXX
To: Andie XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

My dearest Andie,

It is six days since I first got to sit with you and look into your beautiful eyes as we shared ourselves with each other. Somehow, within that short time span, saying "my" in front of your name seems so natural and right!

I adore hearing your "hi honey" when you answer the phone. In my mind I can see your smile as we are talking. I hear the genuine excitement in your voice and a passion for life in your words. I know that when I see you today all of these things will be intensified immensely.

You already know that I like to be an open book when it comes to my emotions. In that spirit I want you to know that I adore you with a passion! The mere thought of you and the way your words lodge in my soul make my heart pound and enhances me as a person beyond measure. Your touch last Friday was so intense to me that it stays with me even now.

As we spend time together I want you to know that you can hold these promises as true:
1.) I will never hold back my feelings (good or bad).
2.) I will never lie to you! (no matter what).
3.) I will always treat you with respect, even in the throws of a heated discussion.
4.)I will always respect your wishes and opinions (I rely on you to articulate what they are!)

On a lighter note, the following rules apply:
1.) First and foremost you are a princess and will be treated as such at all times.
2.) Affection and passion will accompany my every action towards you.
3.) I am an Englishman and need my tea!
4.) Never, ever finish a day angry or upset with each other.

The final and golden rule is to put passion in every moment spent together. One life to live - love every minute of it.

You are an amazing woman and I am so thankful and in a constant state of wonder that you make me want to write everything I have here and more and perhaps that is why calling you "my Andie" is so soul calming, heart-racing right!

Simon x

1:45am P.S. Darling, we have just finished our call of 1 hour and 40 minutes and I find myself wishing that I had ended by telling you that despite all conventional wisdom that I love you and am in love with you. Good night my beautiful, wonderful you.

After soiling the entirety of Andie's new lingerie collection in a matter of six weeks, Simon asked Andie to start looking for a wedding dress suitable for a romantic beach wedding ceremony. Andie admits she was cautious, but she couldn't resist her feelings for Simon- he was exactly the type of man she had spent her entire life searching for. She was simply living a dream she'd had since childhood. "I only have one question for you," Simon stated, "gold- or platinum?"

From: Simon XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
To: Andie XXXXXXXXXXXXX

You ever need or want to follow your dreams my love, just ask for.

I will move heaven and earth to to get and give it to you. you are amazing and I see in your passion for both what you do to earn money now and in the future wealth of your writing great potential and remember that you have already achieved the greatest heights in both.

The rest of the world just hasn,t caught on yet

I love you my dearest love and long to have you in my arms again

Your ever loving

Simon
xxxxxxxx

As the relationship progressed, Simon even took Andie to a house he had hired his construction company to refurbish for them as a couple, and told her of his plans to purchase another cottage back home in Brighton, England, right next to the home of his family.

From: Simon XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
To: Andie XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Whenever you get this know that with every fiber of my being I love you. Thank you for an amazingly beautiful day yesterday and a soul quenching night.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Your simon xxx ooo xxx

Exactly two months into their relationship, Andie found herself preparing for yet another romantic date with Simon when the phone suddenly rang. Andie picked up the phone to find a hysterical Simon.

Rugby, Simon's beloved dog, had run into the street and was struck violently by a passing car. Rugby suffered serious injuries, and Simon didn't know if the dog would survive. He was rushing Rugby to an emergency animal hospital 45 minutes away, and he had to cancel their date for the evening. Rugby would obviously need several major surgeries, and Simon promised to call her with an update as soon as he found out the extent of his dog's injuries.

Andie completely understood, and told Simon to just worry about his dog.

Andie hung up the phone, and never heard Simon's voice again.

Ever.

He didn't answer his phone, his texts, or his emails. It was as if he had simply vanished from the face of the earth.

Three days later Andie's phone rang. Frantic with worry, Andie rushed to answer but, unfortunately, it wasn't Simon. Rather, the caller asked if Andie had seen or heard from Simon lately. Thinking it was Simon's employer, Andie explained the harrowing phone call and the injuries to Rugby, but no, she hadn't heard from him since his trip to the emergency vet. Perhaps, she wondered, had the caller heard of any new information?

The caller provided Andie with plenty of new information.

"Simon is my husband, " said the voice on the other end of the phone.

Andie initially felt like someone had punched her in the stomach, immediately followed by a sudden urge to purchase a novelty t-shirt on eBay featuring a lollipop and the word "Sucker" printed in an extra large font.

"I guess Simon wasn't lying when he said he was the marrying kind," says Andie.

Some might also suggest he wasn't lying when he said "I will never lie to you!", but rather Simon simply forgot to include the crucial modifier " .. unless words are coming out of my mouth."

Simon wasn't single.

And Rugby wasn't hurt.

In fact, Simon's wife pointed out that Rugby was in fact her dog, and he was sitting right there in the living room as they spoke, probably licking an asshole that tasted remarkably like Simon.

The house in Minneapolis? Horse shit.

Cottage in Brighton? Nope.

His apartment? Nope. His friend Scott's.

Gold or Platinum? "Lead," Andie might now say, imagining a large target focused on a certain pair of gamy British testicles.

As it turns out, Andie was simply the caboose car in a long train of girlfriends Simon had hidden from his wife during their seven years of marriage. His wife only figured it out in Year 5.

Adds Andie:

I am 36 years old, I've had several long-term relationships, and I go on a lot of dates. I'm not a dumb kid; I have considerable experience with men.

I am also cynical by nature. The fact that this guy was able to snow me so completely is a testament to how good he is at what he does (basically he's a professional bullshitter).

I fell for him immediately, (not something I am prone to do, cynical as I am). I ignored my instincts and let my hormones and emotions take over. Never a good idea.

But of course, our story doesn't end there.

Simon abruptly abandoned his ~~precious dog~~ adorable relationship prop and his wife of seven years and fled the country to England, his genitals firmly wrapped in a custom-made protective casing not unlike one you might find on your favorite specialty sausage.

A few months after Andie last spoke to Simon, she received a call from a woman in England asking about a man named "Simon."

The British woman had recently met a man named "Simon" in her local pub, where he worked as a waiter. The two started dating immediately, and after professing his undying love for her, "Simon" ended up moving into the carriage house behind her property. Simon was starting a business at the time, and had asked his new girlfriend to front $30,000 in seed money to help him get his company off the ground. She agreed to invest in his business, and seriously, does the author of this blog really need to finish typing that story?

Heartbroken and devastated after he disappeared, the British woman began researching Simon's past and tracked down several of Simon's ex-girlfriends, including Andie. "He's a con artist. He uses some women for sex, and some for money," she told Andie.

Andie had posted pictures of Simon on her blog, including the very picture we featured today here on PLFM. The British woman recognized Andie; Simon had posted her photo on the wall of the carriage house, explaining "She's my friend from the United States."

We'll let a remorseful Andie wrap it up:

So while I feel like complete shit, at least I am wearing fantastic underwear. Also, I have a plethora of hot little negligees for any future boy toys to enjoy (and they will, believe me).

He also bought me a new TV, a bunch of meals, drinks, coffees, the dress I am wearing in the photo at the beginning of this post, and a little playhouse for my cats. Another positive thing Shit Stain--I mean Simon-- did was pay my July rent.

The final positive Simon did for me was to give me a chance to warn the citizens of the Twin Cities and--hell, the entire world--to watch out for this fucker. If you see him, give him a good punch in the nuts for me, and, for the love of all things holy, DO NOT believe anything that comes out of his mouth.

If he tells you 2 + 2 = 4, check his facts.

I can also take comfort in these words of wisdom from the esteemed poet Bono: Instant karma's gonna get him, if I don't get him first.

I know this much is true.

Take a good look at Simon in our headline photo ladies, and remember that face.

We'd also like to hear from some of the other women duped by this guy, as I'm hoping some of them will find their way to PLFM.

And if you see him out in public in Minneapolis, Brighton, or anywhere else, feel free to launch the sole side of your shoe directly into his balls for Andie.

If you've been duped by a married guy online or through a dating site for singles only and can prove it to PLFM with emails, send us an email and the story behind it.

If you've been duped by a married man, feel free to fess up anonymously in the comments if you want.

If you got your sweet revenge, even better.

(You can find Andie's blog and a brief write-up of her experience at http://andiepants.blogspot.com/2008_08_01_archive.html.)

Thou Shalt Not Snoop

2009-08-31T02:19:00.000-07:00

Caitlin was raised in a fundamentalist Christian household and admits upfront to PLFM that she had very little experience dealing with men until her college years.

Of course, we're not saying Caitlin was completely unfamiliar with boys; Caitlin actually dated a guy named Larry for a while, but Larry also had a fundamentalist Christian background, and refused to hug Caitlin because he felt it was "too physical" and "would cause sin" in the eyes of God. So, in retrospect, I guess we are saying she was completely unfamiliar with boys.

Unfortunately for Larry, the overworked and underpaid estrogen glands in Caitlin's ovaries began to threaten a body-wide mutiny unless they started getting some serious non-Christian action. Larry and Caitlin amicably went about their separate ways, leaving Caitlin free to venture out into the world and whore it up in the hugging department.

Team Estrogen 1, Jesus 0.

After her breakup with Larry, Caitlin got together with another fundamentalist Christian man named Daniel, who was a family friend and fellow university student. Daniel was charming and handsome, and more than willing to provide Caitlin with hugs and more. Caitlin and Daniel became an item soon after Caitlin's arrival at school, and from there we begin our brief and ugly journey into Caitlin's first real relationship with a man, followed immediately by her first attempt at seeking a form of government protection against him.

In the beginning, Caitlin and Daniel's relationship was all kittens and rainbows. Daniel was kind and gentle, and he had one of those playful, ham-hock type asses that most women might generously applaud had he suddenly decided to scurry up a nearby tree. Daniel always went out of his way to make Caitlin happy, and Caitlin enjoyed his affectionate manner.

But that all changed when Caitlin had some difficulty setting up some of her computer accounts with the university, and Daniel, a computer science major, generously offered to step in and help Caitlin establish her new IM and email accounts. Caitlin appreciated Daniel's generosity, and took a back seat as Daniel spent a few hours fiddling around on her computer. Gosh, what a nice guy!*

*unless you keep reading

What Caitlin didn't know was that Daniel also conveniently decided to install a port that automatically transferred the entire content of Caitlin's instant messaging conversations to his own personal computer. Daniel began monitoring who she was talking to, and what she was talking about.

Caitlin didn't discover Daniel's antics until about a month later, when Caitlin logged into a private online diary she kept on a computer in her home. Daniel had made a crucial error in hiding his tracks; namely, after hacking into her computer, he decided to leave his own commentary in her personal diary. After reading through Caitlin's private thoughts, Daniel left his own entry and berated her for not sharing her feelings with him. Daniel concluded his entry with the following statement:

"I know I've really complicated things by reading this and for that I am sorry... If I don't hear from you, I'll take it as a sign things are over."

Caitlin was mortified her jackass of a boyfriend had hacked into her computer and read her personal diary. Before she could even absorb what had just transpired, Caitlin stepped out into the hallway and found Daniel waiting for her, twiddling his thumbs and whistling innocently while looking up at the sky. We'll let Caitlin describe what happened next:

"I was still so dazed I didn't know how to react and he somehow managed to get me to stay. I really don't remember how. But he was good at pitching emotional fits to get me to react to him and pay attention. Plus, forgiveness is always good, right? A fundamentalist background doesn't prepare one for dating in ways other than making a hug into some sort of sexual sin.

That said, I REALLY should have known better."

PLFM will now allow our readers a few moments for low-pitched groans and light eye-rolling.

Done?

It's OK Caitlin, we understand. You had to learn the hard way. A lot of us do.

Caitlin and Daniel resumed their relationship and dated throughout the rest of the semester. At the conclusion of the semester, Caitlin began a summer research internship in another state. Over the course of her internship, Caitlin made a remarkable transformation in her life: She began to question the principles and beliefs of fundamentalist Christians. She'd expressed her reservations about religion to Daniel before, but now, away from the cacophony of religious zealots in her immediate environment, Caitlin was free to examine her own thoughts about her religious upbringing.

Caitlin ultimately decided it was all a bunch of nonsense. Secure and confident in her decision, Caitlin completed a full and immediate transition to "atheist," and called Daniel to deliver the news.

Daniel exploded when he heard Caitlin no longer believed in God, and reached deep into his arsenal of emotionally manipulative tricks to change Caitlin's mind. First, he tried his screaming and ranting routine, which failed miserably. Defeated, he moved on to Phase II, the "crying hysterically" routine, which Caitlin had already seen one too many times from Daniel. Phase III was the ever-popular "silent treatment with arms crossed" move perfected by resilient 6 year-olds the world over, and when that ultimately failed, Daniel moved on to Phase IV.

Daniel unequivocally terminated their relationship because Caitlin had denounced God.

Daniel said he never wanted to hear from Caitlin again, and immediately blocked her from instant messaging him. But of course that didn't mean Caitlin would never hear from Daniel again, because he continually called and messaged her, crying and weeping, and generally coating Caitlin's keyboard and phone receiver with a thick, viscous solution of spittle, phlegm and random Bible verses.

So we got that folks?

Daniel dumped Caitlin.

Got it? Let's say it as a group:

Daniel DUMPED CAITLIN.

Now, Caitlin was a little bit upset her relationship had ended, but really it was more like the way you might feel when your two-year contract with Sprint Mobile ends. Although she was having a great time away from Daniel, he kept haranguing her to re-connect their internet messaging program to talk "as friends." Caitlin finally relented and agreed to re-connect with him, as long as they remained friends ONLY.

Daniel then sent the following email after he broke up with her:

Caitlin,

This is the easiest way to re-add you. Just reply with something.

I'm sorry about tonight. My feelings for you have changed and I don't know how to relate to you anymore, especially when I come away frustrated every time we talk even though I don't know what I wanted in the first place. I just don't know anything anymore and I can't trust anything I thought I once knew. Things have been pushed back to the beginning and I don't know if I want to even try to build them back up, but of course I don't know why. I know I must not be making any sense at all.

I'm also wondering what you think. You said that you see me as a friend and I'm not quite sure how to take that. In one way, I'm almost hurt you were able to release your feelings that easily, if you ever had them at all. I can guess at this point you'll be pretty annoyed that I don't believe you, but I don't see how I can believe you. I did trust you, but I can't anymore, not after what happened. You shattered my trust at a very very deep level. I just don't know what to think.

Now you're most likely looking over this with unemotional eyes picking holes in the things I say and you'll give me back something akin to a red marked paper with a bad grade at the end and a note to do better next time. You seem to be jumping to conclusions with the things I say a lot more lately.

Confused,

Daniel.

Yeah, Caitlin, you big trust-shatterer. Illegally recording someone's personal conversations and hacking into their computer to read their personal thoughts is one thing, but expressing your true feelings to a loved one? What a fucking travesty! Shame on you!

Caitlin immediately began to regret allowing Daniel to instant message her again. Over the next few weeks, Daniel sent Caitlin numerous missives regarding her internship. His favorite topics included:

1. How can Caitlin no longer believe in God?

2. Was Caitlin fucking those reckless, drunk college kids that didn't believe in God?

3. Most importantly, was Caitlin enjoying fucking all the guys she was working with, or just fucking some of them?

4. When fucking them, in what style was she fucking them, how often was she fucking them, and what were her personal feelings regarding her free-for-all fuck-a-thon of an internship?

As Caitlin's internship came to a close, Daniel knew Caitlin would return to school, so eased up on his questioning in anticipation of her return.

Upon her return, Daniel went right back into boyfriend mode. Although he had dumped her, he constantly questioned all her relationships with her male co-workers, complained endlessly that she wasn't spending enough time with him, and repeatedly accused her of getting pregnant during her internship. "That guy even got jealous of my homework," says Caitlin. She quickly tired of his endless harassment, and began to avoid him at all costs.

A week or so after Caitlin returned from her internship, Caitlin's sister was scheduled to be baptized in a local river, and Daniel was invited to the ceremony in order to take photographs for the family. He also attended the reception afterwards, where Daniel became insanely jealous of Larry, Caitlin's "no hug" ex-boyfriend who had the nerve to strike up a conversation with Caitlin.

Then suddenly, Daniel disappeared.

A few hours later, Daniel re-appeared and asked Caitlin if she wanted to come with him to a party where everyone planned on playing a game called "sardines." "It's like hide-and-seek in the dark," he said, "and at the end, everyone's squished together in one place!" Needless to say, at this point Caitlin preferred to cuddle with actual sardines. She refused his offer.

Later that evening, Caitlin's phone rang. She recognized the number as Daniel's, but no name came up on her cellphone screen. As it turns out, when Daniel had gone missing at the party, he had actually gone inside and found Caitlin's cellphone and deleted the entirety of her call logs and some of her stored cellphone numbers.

Furious, Caitlin didn't answer her phone, so Daniel proceeded to call her obsessively on both Caitlin's cellphone and her home phone. Caitlin's exasperated mother finally answered and told him he was no longer welcome in their home, nor was he to attempt to contact Caitlin again.

Of course, Daniel then immediately sent Caitlin an email, to which Caitlin responded:

I am not talking to you, it is not negotiable.

Daniel responded to Caitlin's email with yet another email:

Caitlin,

I'm really distressed and confused right now so I hope this makes sense. I'm going to assume this has something to do with me deleting myself from your phone. I was using XXXXXX's phone when I called your house and had a really bad connection. I couldn't hear your mother hardly at all so I hung up and went looking for another phone. When I tried again no one answered.

You really can't take a joke can you. I've done things to my friends phones before like, delete myself, change their banner, background image or things like that. I intended it to be taken like you goof now add it back. You seem to have taken it completely wrong, like I did it maliciously. If I had been malicious wouldn't I have deleted XXXXXX's, or XXXXX's or XXXXXX's number instead of my own?

I will admit I was a little bit annoyed with you. You seemed to be spending quite a bit of time with Larry and just barely saying anytime to me. Now there were a lot of explanations for this so I wasn't going to jump to conclusions and was going to bring up the issue later.

Seriously, that is what I was going to do. I was also going to ask you what you thought about your sister getting baptized, but I was going to leave all those questions for a later time. My hope was that you were happy for your sister and that it could be a happy day for you seeing people and celebrating your sister's baptism. I seem to have unknowingly destroyed that.

As I said before I was a little annoyed with you when I left. That's why I ignored you at first. Then I realized I wasn't thinking of you again and came back. As far as your "I'm tired" for not wanted to come that evening. I believed you, you did look tired.

Daniel

Once again, Caitlin did not respond, yet was forced to later in the day when Daniel arrived at her place of employment to discuss why Caitlin was not responding to his emails or phone calls.

Caitlin again thoroughly explained why she was through with Daniel's habitual boundary and privacy violations, and was concerned because Daniel was obviously having issues with continued contact despite her repeated requests to stay away. She walked right past him and left, once again instructing him not to contact her anymore.

Undeterred, Daniel sent Caitlin another email that evening apologizing for his behavior, followed by yet another email the following evening.

Caitlin,

You looked horrible today. Like something was really bothering you. Now I'm not going to even attempt to figure out what that is, but I did want you to know that no matter what happens I still care for you and always have even if it doesn't always seem that way. I'll be praying for you.

Daniel

Says Caitlin:

"I was not bothered at all that day until this email showed up, I was having a great day, fun classes, hanging out with normal friends, beautiful day out etc......."

The next day, Daniel decided to corner Caitlin on campus after one of her classes. Caitlin told him to leave her the fuck alone and tried to hurry away, but Daniel relentlessly followed her and Caitlin's classmate all the way to her next class. When they arrived, Daniel pulled out a CD and threw it on Caitlin's desk. "Here's your baptism pictures."

Another email followed:

Caitlin,

I still wonder if you know how cruel you're being? Are you not aware that your actions are cruel or do you know and still keep doing them? The Caitlin I know wouldn't do something intentionally cruel.

It still doesn't make sense that you went from smiling to the coldest I've seen. That isn't you. What happened? You're not one for quick decisions, but from my view you did this time. Now you must have yourself in quite a mess. To go back you would have to admit to yourself and everyone involved that you were wrong in your actions. The you I know would have at least told me what was going on and then told me what you were going to do about it. Instead you completely severed everything with no explanation, why?

And in case you were wondering, it does hurt. I'm not sure if that brings you joy to see me hurting, but it's the truth. To see someone that I dearly care for treat me like this it does hurt, but the truth is I still do care even though you are treating me the way you are.

Daniel

Again Caitlin didn't respond, so this time Daniel barreled into one of Caitlin's classes to harass her about not taking his calls or answering his emails. Caitlin repeatedly asked Daniel to leave the room, but he refused. She physically tried to push him out the door, but he still refused to leave. Finally, a classmate came to Caitlin's aid and instructed Daniel that he was to leave the grounds immediately.

Daniel refused to leave until Caitlin returned the CD of baptism pictures he had given her, so Caitlin happily returned his CD as Daniel was escorted out of the room. "I really didn't want to put the CD on my computer anyway," says Caitlin, "for fear of viruses or other Trojan stuff he could have put on it."

Caitlin then received her final email before the school finally took action against Daniel.

Caitlin,

This is so ridiculous as to almost be funny. You stop communications with me and never tell me why and when I attempt to ask I get something like I'm not talking to you and leave me alone. This has got to be the worst way to handle a situation I've ever seen. Seriously I have no idea what this accomplishes other than people getting hurt. What am I supposed to do? Figure out what I did out of thin air? I always thought of you as a logical person, but where's the logic in this?

Daniel

After several weeks, Caitlin had finally had enough. She prepared a large folder of Daniel's emails and took them to university officials and explained the entire situation to them. His constant harassment, his continuous and baseless accusations of her sleeping around even though they were no longer together, his insane jealousy and his inability to cease contacting her despite her repeated requests.

The university called Daniel in, and informed him he was to have absolutely no further contact with Caitlin.

And to this day, Caitlin hasn't heard a peep out of Daniel.

But, of course, we'll let her finish him off.......

"For the next 8 months every time he saw me on campus sidewalk he'd give me a Nazi salute and say "Heil Hitler!" He did it loud enough for me to hear, so if he was a ways away it would be yelled. Once when I was reading outside with a good view of several sidewalks I noticed that he went out of his way to go past me so he could give me the salute from closer. Oh well. The rest of the student body must have thought he was a Neo-Nazi or something."

Smooth, Daniel.

Very smooth.

Sunshine

2009-08-20T05:13:00.000-07:00

Heather began her career in blogging several years ago, and over time she built up quite a respectable fan base. Heather was relatively familiar with most of her readers, so when a man named Martin began posting comments to her website about seven months ago, she recognized he was a new visitor to her blog.

Exactly seven months later, Martin would be in jail and Heather was living on a friend's couch.

From the outset Martin began to post comments to Heather's blog pretty consistently, if not obsessively. Even as her traffic ebbed and flowed, she could always count on Martin leaving at least one comment for every single post. She didn't think much of it initially, and figured he was just some odd character with way too much time on his hands.

But as the months passed, Martin began to send Heather personal emails, usually to expand upon the comments he had posted to her blog. Heather wasn't too fond of corresponding with her readers via email, but she answered a few of his questions out of common courtesy.

Three months after Martin found Heather's website, Heather attended a blogging conference to network with other bloggers and catch up on some new technology. Upon arrival at the conference, she was approached by a short, balding man with wire rim glasses. He knew Heather's real name, which took Heather by surprise. No one knew her real name, nor anything else about her for that matter, as she had long ago taken some rather extreme measures to protect her identity.

The short man then introduced himself.

His name was Martin, which immediately rung a bell with Heather.

It's that guy.

Heather was a bit perturbed this strange little man had actually come to a networking conference to meet her, but she stood politely as Martin asked her a few questions about her blog and her taste in music. After a brief and polite conversation, Martin indicated he had bought a few gifts for Heather. Heather explained she felt uncomfortable accepting gifts from a stranger, but Martin shrugged it off and left her gifts in a conference room.

Martin left, and Heather joined the conference in progress feeling somewhat confident she would never have to deal with Martin again.

And here we go.

Heather returned home from the conference and found her email inbox packed with emails from Martin. His correspondence had suddenly taken a turn toward personal subjects, and became largely incoherent and rambling. Heather answered a few of them, but as she progressed she realized she may as well have been writing emails to a sea lion. Disturbed, she sat down and wrote a post for her website about "obsessive fans," hoping he might get a clue and stop.

It backfired. Very badly.

Martin took it as a tutorial and absolutely deluged Heather with emails.

Heather blocked Martin from posting to her website and immediately stopped reading Martin's emails, instead filing them directly into a separate folder. Only a few days later, Heather's email server seized up. Heather checked into the problem, and found Martin had inundated her server with so many emails and music files that her server had simply shut down.

Frustrated and confused, she began to check what Martin had written in his emails.

What she found did not bode well for her.

Heather,

And i bring good news. i have seen your waving hand from the abyss and bought a new modem from another provider so i can get online from home. i think i can now leave comments on your blog again :)))))

do not feel bad about anything. I like that I hvae to WORK fore this (i know you have done your best to give me acess but not even you could do that) because now i can repay you for the geneva mails you sent me from abroad 4 years ago!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I have been so troubled (and that virus was not from you, I know that 100 %!). this is sent from my new provider's email account. and it was the IP address which was blocked (and i am so happy that it was the IP address you did not like and not ME)

You still have many filters so my yahoo and gamil accounts do not work. You are guarding your body so well, my sun. But it is certainly also worth looking after!!!!!!!

And i will now send mail that bounced earlier tonight from my other accounts. so let's take a technical tea-break :)))))))))))))))"

Martin

Apparently Martin had concluded Heather was now in love with him.

In fact, Martin now referred to Heather as his "sun." Everything Heather wrote on her website related directly to Martin in some way, and her recent silence was now only a "test of his love." Martin knew this because Heather had arranged "secret puzzles" in her blog entries that spoke to Martin and Martin only, and he had been quite busy lately trying to decipher her "puzzles."

And the emails kept rolling in ...

Heather,

Thank you for bridging gaps. A bridge can say so much. It has meant a lot to me.

And so I want to say that right now things are as when we met. No more. No less. We are both a little wiser, perhaps. I like that.

I'd really like to be able to comment on your blog again. Just like before we started mirroring. I want you to blog like you did before we met. Without all these constant hints and puzzles.

You are really good at these puzzles. You would make a great novelist. I think I have found most of your hints and puzzles - both the good and the bad ones. I can now laugh at your jokes again. Thank you for your TRUST and BELIEF that I can "get" them. Your thoughts are very advanced and I'm happy i understand you. But I spend a lot of time trying to "get" them.

I think we are now both standing exactly where we stood when we met except apart. Maybe we should meet again - has your sun started working so you can burn some sunshine?

In the future, please do not leave anymore puzzles for me on the blog. Have a lovely day with much sun!!!!!"

Martin

Now unable to contact Heather, Martin somehow located her home address and began loitering in local parks and grocery stores in an attempt to catch Heather out in public.

Heather

Yes, I know I sent you a longshot invitation in my thoughts. So I spent the day in the botanical garden waiting for my thoughts to reach you.

The sun was burning in there :)))))))

I was thinking about my life and what i know for certain about my life right now, i mean WHAT I KNOW and that is that we will be together and i will give the two of us the best chance ever amd we both deserve that!

And you are as right as ever. The Botinical gardens are very charming but I forget they are there. No longer, of course.

I understand why you are so hesitant towards me. i mean, you have so many prejudices to fight. But i have said this earlier. I FORGIVE YOU (FOR) EVERYTHING.

I hope you will show up soon because i am getting tired of walking around your parks waiting for you. So many people are there. Not that they are wrong people BUT THERE IS ONLY ONE RIGHT PERSON!!!!!"

Martin

Thankfully, Heather's "thought" phone was temporarily out of service.

For whatever reason, Martin also conjured up the idea that Heather had a wooden leg, and he frequently encouraged her to be open about it.

Heather,

I never thought i'd write to you about this because the topic is so important that it need not be written.

I noticved your little game on the blog the other day and your reaction when "peg leg" was mentioned. I did not even notice it when we met but now I know. But i still will not notice it the next time we meet.

I DO NOT CARE that you have a peg leg because i look at the whole person whether they are family-friebds-colleagues-or girlfriends :) So i did not join in the debate and think that the response to the peg leg was .. primitive. Unlike YOU!

If you do have a peg-leg the only difference it makes is that you become all that more interesting and you are already interesting :)I wanted to say this to you in person but you get it in writing :(I hope you are better and not troubled and have been out in the sun :)))

Martin

Despite being quite a few croutons short of a salad, Martin was remarkably adept in locating Heather's personal information, as noted below ...

Heather,

I tracked you to XXXXXXcbbler.com. Hmm, did you call yourself XXXXX xxxxx once and studied teaching in XXXXXX?

I don't know. I never answered you. My computer broke down and I lost your mails. In panic I tried to recue your mails but that only made matters worse. Perhaps I am off target? I have been thinking about your mails for a long time.

When we met in the coffee shop I already knew when I pressed your hand that we would have excellent fun and we did.. It was like meeting an old friend OR SOMETHING. It has to be Ying-Yang. Hmmm.. The sun has been burning inside me .. god, I must sound half crazy. But actually I feel relieved. I have been paralysed most of the day. Skipped work to come home and write you this letter and mail you the music.

Perhaps you are really pissed off and not playing hard to .. ?? No. But in that case .. anyway.

I sent you You Do the song to tell you that if you ever have a nervous breakdown i will be there for you and take good care of you. It also says that i want you to break down. I mean it when i say I will be there for you because you have something that most other people do not.

Martin

Once Martin started sending marriage proposals to Heather, Heather filed an order of harassment with her local police department.

Then, of course, Martin started showing up on her doorstep.

Martin was arrested, and deeming him dangerous, the police advised Heather to stay with friends until Martin was admitted to a psychiatric facility.

We'll let Heather close it out.

"I think I was a very very random target for Martin. It was never about *me* because he had no idea who I was. I met him once while surrounded by other people and even then I was conscious of being there as a blogger, not as *me*. I have since moved country - almost continent - and I've stopped looking over my shoulder to see if Martin is walking behind me."

PLFM Wastebasket

2009-08-18T05:51:00.000-07:00

Folks, we originally intended to post a serious entry and a humorous entry today, but after spending all day yesterday whipping out our comedy post, the backstory fell apart and we discovered some new information that negated the entire post.

It happens, and it sucks.

Thank you PLFM reader PS for dealing with my annoying and continuous questions.

Luckily, reader JH sent me an interesting piece tonight to replace our original comedy piece.

I think you've all seen this type of guy before ladies, so get out your clam buckets and assume the position. Guys, don't ever be this guy. You may as well pack your balls in a block of cheese and march into a valley with a pan flute.

Now, I don't have any backstory on this piece as it was published on Craigslist (Chicago), but I think PLFM contributor JH summed it up best in her email:

"I saw this on missed connections on craigslist. This guy wrote a fucking novel about how this girl stopped talking to him. I can only imagine its because he's pathetic. He asked questions like 'Why are you so afraid to show any weakness?' and standard PLFM 'You clearly don't want my friendship, you don't care about me as a person at all'. Of course he goes on for much longer about how lame he is and why she clearly stopped talking to him. Its classic: sad, pathetic and totally psychotic."

Well said JH.

We're going to call it "How To 100% Guarantee You Will Never Have Sex With Your Ex-Girlfriend Again."

Hit it!

Before I left, you wanted to meet up with me. So we met up, and had dinner. Before this, we had met up a few times,. for breakfast, to the thrift store, and at your friends on the 4th. Before I left for my trip, I became very frustrated and upset. You told me that it was about me, that you were going to come see me if I wanted.

But ultimately you revealed that you wanted to see me. You also made little white lies about feeling better and doing "fun" things, like watching the fireworks which you actually didn't do. You were staying up real late at your place alone feeling bad. Why did you have to put up some kind of front to make yourself look better? Why are you so afraid to show any weakness? Why do you allow your pride to take over your ability to be real and have a meaningful conversation with someone who truly loved you? Was it some kind of sick game, a way to get back at me before I left?

See you had labeled me and my behavior incorrectly, and when we talked that night we both felt better. You actually opened up and we shared something meaningful. You had made me feel like shit by acting proud of the fact that I got upset in front of your friends because I still love you.

It was sick and I wanted to hate you, but you wouldn't let me. You told me, "I don't hate you" so we talked. You made a big effort to see that I wouldn't harbor any hard feelings against you.

But when I came back, things changed. It was a completely different behavior. You ignored me, denied me and it killed me. You don't even know how much.

But then I find out that you went on a trip. You didn't want me to interfere with your little vacation, you wouldn't allow even a hello and goodbye. And you do this in the name of "protecting" yourself. What are you protecting yourself from? Your life? Your life as you knew it? Are you protecting yourself from a feeling that you no longer wish to have for somebody you want to forget about?

I'm not a machine, I can't erase my memory or feeling after a couple of weeks. And if anything, I spiraled. I fell into such a dark place and you ignored me.

You were out east, I found out in a very strange situation. How am I supposed to feel? You say that you don't hate me, but the only thing you're doing is pushing away everything. You clearly don't want my friendship, you don't care about me as a person at all. It's so sad to see, to see how I fell into it. And you try and convince yourself that you're right because you don't have to deal with my "passive aggressiveness".

But honestly, that's a projection of yourself. "Oh hi.." Yeah, ok great, yeah I'm glad to hear from you.. I'm eating a sandwich, I don't care about your vacation, leave me the fuck alone.

I'm so ashamed that I believed you so much and that I fell for you so hard. I don't know what kind of satisfaction you get from all of this. I've never hard heartbreak like this before but I don't know what you want to believe... I think you don't want to believe.

I know you tried hard, and we had our ups and our downs. I want to heal, I really do but it's so hard to do when I feel like I have been led to believe in something that wasn't real. We had a good conversation before I left, you told me you didn't hate me... How am I supposed to heal when you ignore me like you hate me?

I've done so many things recently, had some good times and bad. It's just amazing to see how it all ended and to see my fears come true. Your friends look at me like a stranger and apparently I guess that's what I am now. Is this really about protecting yourself? What are you trying to protect yourself from?

I know I had a void in my life, and it was something that I needed to fill.. So I'm writing and going to record soon. When you have a void, you seem to have this pattern.. I was afraid of it and I guess you're better off now. I don't care if you've moved on to someone new. Isn't that whats supposed to happen? But you told me that you were always going to be there for me, that you'd still be my friend.

I just don't understand anything anymore. I really don't. I don't know why it's so hard to extend the courtesy of talking to someone that you loved and who loved you. We shared so many things and you can try as hard as you'd like to deny it but you can never take it back.

So there you go.

One large stack of "It's Your Fault" pancakes, and a nice coating of guilt syrup to finish it off.

Enjoy.

Unhappy Endings

2009-08-13T01:01:00.000-07:00

For most of us, the phrase "happy ending" generally refers to the climactic resolution of a story or feature film, where the protagonist realizes the glorious fruits of their labor whilst the antagonist suffers painful retribution for their previous wrongdoing.

For practitioners of massage therapy however, the term "happy ending" has an entirely different connotation, one that unfortunately does not imply the distribution of cake. Rather, a "happy ending" refers to the practice of masturbating a male to completion at the end of his massage session, creating not only a very satisfied customer, but also a boon for the absorbent paper towel industry.

While both highly illegal and unfair to trees, the practice of providing "happy endings" has become so pervasive in the massage industry that many men actually come to expect "happy endings" at the completion of their therapy sessions, making life quite difficult for a hard-working woman like Kami.

Kami runs a very successful massage therapy practice in her hometown, yet despite her hectic schedule and stellar reputation, she still finds herself repeatedly dealing with what she calls "the nastiest dregs of society."

Or what we might more commonly refer to as "those creepy dudes looking for handjobs."

A licensed massage therapist, Kami charges $60 an hour for her services and usually receives a sizable gratuity on top of her hourly fee. She maintains a website to promote her practice, and conducts most of her business through an advertised cellphone number.

While most men request Kami's services solely for medical or relaxation purposes, Kami regularly receives texts and phone calls inquiring as to whether Kami provides "happy endings" for her clients. She does not, and she no longer finds herself shocked when new clients actually become outraged when she doesn't supply such a service.

Kami recently began receiving texts from a potential new client named David. As with most new clients, Kami generally expects a few back-and-forth pleasantries and questions before the client finally decides to schedule an appointment. David took these friendly texts to a whole new level however, sending Kami a number of increasingly bone-headed questions throughout the day.

Kami eventually realized David was just looking for some conversation, so she cut David short by informing him that it was getting late, she was about to go home, and she was pretty much through answering his dumbass questions. Was he coming in or not?

David informed Kami that he had no money, but suggested Kami provide a free massage out of "the goodness of her heart."

Kami initially thought he was joking, but soon realized he was absolutely serious. When Kami told David that she did not provide her time nor her services out of "the goodness of her heart," David became extremely offended, feeling their day-long exchange of texts now constituted a friendship, and "friends shouldn't charge each other to do things."

For those of you counting, that now makes two extremely unpersuasive arguments in a row by David.

Kami firmly established she would not provide any services to David free of charge, so David instead decided to ask Kami out to dinner. Kami of course declined, realizing most restaurants don't serve their customers out of the "goodness of their hearts" either.

The next day, David began texting Kami again. Kami has countless clients named "David" saved in her cellphone, so she didn't realize this was the exact same David she had spoken with the day before. Kami initially treated David politely, having built a rather strong tolerance for the river of creeps overflowing her cellphone with requests for sexual services.

After taking a couple of texts she figured out this was indeed the David from yesterday, so Kami inquired as to whether he actually planned on coming in and scheduling an appointment, or if he just planned on texting her annoying correspondence all day. When David stalled on scheduling an appointment, Kami informed David she had a very busy schedule to attend to and no further time to discuss the specifics of her therapy sessions with David; she was very busy and needed to focus on her existing clients.

Sure enough, David came right back at Kami requesting another free massage:

David: Like I said, I'm broke. And I don't want the police to break in in the middle of my massage and tell me I'm under arrest for something else lol

Kami: Why would the police break in. You get arrested often?

David: Ha ha. Never been in trouble. But I see it on the news.

Kami: What are you talking about

David: Didn't you hear about david archuleta's dad!

Kami: Don't confuse massage therapist with whore. I'm not a whore.

David: I NEVER said you were! Just saying that it's scary sometimes.

Kami: I am offended that you'd even suggest it. I have a large clientele of businessmen and atheletes that get a good massage, nothing else. If you want to come in for something like that, I'd be willing to set you up. That's all though.

David: Well it sounds fun but like I said I am broke. But you could teach me how and then we could exchange back rubs :)

After crunching the numbers for this new "bartering" proposal from David, Kami declined his offer, realizing she had no desire to teach David anything other than how to remove the large fucking shoe she was about to launch directly up his goddamn ass.

Luckily that seemed to do the trick.

For a couple of days.

Two days later, Kami received another text.

David: That picture on the bike is in North XXXXXXXX, it looks like.

Kami: Yep

David: So do you want to exchange massages?

Suddenly realizing this was the same David that had been harassing her for the past week, Kami began to get a little freaked out.

Kami checked the picture she had posted on her website to determine what identifying feature might have given away the location of her home.

There were none. She was simply standing in her driveway in front of a garage door. Luckily, Kami had recently moved from that address and now lived in a neighboring county.

Feeling a bit relieved, David then provided her with her real name, something she was quite familiar with since it was printed on all her mail. Kami had long ago assumed a fake identity specifically for dealing with creepy dudes like David. "Color me creeped!" says Kami, instantly forcing hundreds of Crayola scientists back to the lab.

Kami ignored David for the rest of the day, but David continued to barrage her phone with annoying text messages.

David: So do you want to exchange massages?

David: Massage by Kami ... $60. Friends with David ... priceless!

David: Do you do a 100% body massage? Or is it 99%?

David: Send me a face pic
.
David: Are you going to give me a massage? Out of the love of your heart?

Towards the end of the day, Kami had had enough of his horse shit. She texted David and informed him she would never give him a massage, she would never work for free, she had no idea who the fuck he was, and he needed to leave her the fuck alone.

Done?

Yes!

No.

Kami fell victim to a rather unfortunate circumstance. Immediately after delivering her unpleasant diatribe to David, Kami got into her car for the long drive home and inadvertently sat on her cellphone, which has a tendency to redial the last number she texted.

So guess who came-a-texting again ...

David: You just called me.

David: Twice!

David: So it's not that I'm trying to mooch, just that I can go to massage envy for $39

David: By the way, you really have to know what you're doing when it's deep tissue.

Kami did not respond, but a few hours later, David started up again and really began to get under Kami's skin.

David: I don't see why you charge more than certified professionals.

Kami: Oh my hell you're an ass. I am LMT, and if someone sucks so bad that they are willing to work for a company and make $12 an hour, that means they couldn't hack in on their own. I DO know what I'm doing, not that you'll ever know, and seriously, leave me the fuck alone!

David: I didn't know. Thanks for the insite.

David: So you're saying that you charge $60 an hour and that's not including tips? I'm glad you can travel and live a way many can't.

... and then, a few hours later ....

David: I feel like I might be bothering you so I should maybe just leave you alone.

Jesus David, what would give you that impression?

But David actually meant it this time, and Kami didn't hear from him again.

Two months later, Kami had completely forgotten about her failed suitor David and was plowing her way through another busy day at work, when Kami received a text from one of her many clients named "David."

David: You're in XXXXXX, right?

Kami: Yes, I'm done for tonight, but I have one opening available tomorrow.

David: What is the first time special with tip included?

Kami: I don't do specials. My fee is $60 an hour without tip included.

David: No specials? So with tip your going to be like $80?

Kami: That sounds about right.

David: Hmmm...what if I give you 80 for 80 minutes.

Kami: As long as that doesn't include tip that'd be fine. My fee works out to a dollar a minute.

David: Wow, you really don't budge! What's up?

Kami: I'm good at what I do.

David: Well what are you going to say that is going to make a deal here.

Kami didn't yet realize this was the exact same David she had dealt with in the past, so she continued the conversation, though thoroughly annoyed at the thought of entertaining yet another potential cheapskate client.

David: What if I get hot and get a boner, will you get mad?

Kami: No, most clients get a boner. As long as you leave it alone, we're fine.

The client proceeded to ask Kami if she would perform the massage in a bikini, or perhaps in her bra and underwear, to which Kami replied "No."

Keeping the atmosphere professional, the client then inquired about Kami's policies regarding getting up in the middle of the massage session to go masturbate in the bathroom.

Kami figured she was dealing with another random creep, so she decided to end their conversation.

A few days later, Kami gets another text from a "David" who seems relatively normal. He is pleasant and polite, so Kami books an appointment for him and goes about her daily business. But later in the day, she began thinking about all these recent inquiries from guys named "David."

On that note, we'll let Kami close it out from here:

Sometimes, the little voice speaks and we don't listen. This happen to be one of the times I did. I called and cancelled. He wanted to know why, and I said it was personal, I'm sorry, but I have to cancel.

He threw an amazing rendition of a two year old throwing a temper tantrum. Little voice also said that I should leave all the way, so I left.

He texted me later that he was there, even though I had told him not to, and I was glad I'd left.

He texted me a few more times about how selfish and evil I was, and how I'd never have clientele being this rude and thoughtless.

It was then it occured to me that it was the same David all along, and checked out my text logs.

Yep, same guy.

Ew.

"Ew" is right Kami, and so concludes another edition of Psychotic Letters.

We'd love to hear from any people out there having to go through this kind of shit with their clients, and we'd especially love to hear from any massage therapists having to deal with this "happy ending" dilemma.

(Ed Note: To clear up some confusion, apparently many massage clients don't want to provide their last names to their therapists- hence the confusion with all the "David's" in Kami's phone.)

Psychotic Letters From Women

2009-08-12T18:16:00.000-07:00

Hey guys, we're back from a much needed break and working on a new PLFM entry for either Thursday or Friday morning. Stay tuned!

Meanwhile, my email inbox has been absolutely inundated over the last few days with a YouTube video currently making the rounds on everyone's hot sheet, so if you haven't seen it yet we're going to give you an opportunity to check it out right now.

Watch the whole thing, and then I've got a little commentary for you afterwards ....

OK, here's the reason I didn't post it earlier when it first came through my inbox .... I don't buy it.

At all.

I think it's a fantastic marketing ploy for his website and I'm sure JD has seen it pay off tremendously. In fact, I applaud him for it.

But I try really hard to keep the fake stuff off PLFM, and unfortunately my bullshit meter put a hole in my roof the size of a dishwasher about 5 minutes into this video.

One of the easiest ways we weed out the fake stories here at PLFM is to simply step back from the story as told and ask yourself "Is this really plausible?"

In this case .. I say no.

If these two had been dating for awhile, I sincerely doubt his girlfriend could simply "forget" her own boyfriend was leaving to Europe for two weeks.

On top of that, Emily would have at least informed a few of her friends at some point before his departure that JD was leaving to tour Europe, so we'd have to assume all her friends forgot as well.

JD purportedly shows emails where Emily claims to have contacted "all of JD's friends" to determine his whereabouts, and none of them replied "JD? He's in Europe, you moron."

So that's my take on it and why I chose not to post it yesterday. Nothing makes me feel dumber than posting something on PLFM or WWHM and having readers send me emails saying "Hey you fucking dumbass, that shit is fake." It happens.

(We already have a fake posted here on PLFM. I did a little more research after one particular story ran, and a few weeks later I discovered some online documentation proving she had been a bit less than truthful in her version of the story. The story is still up, and certainly not the one you might think it is.)

Maybe I'm just a jaded horse's ass, so let me know what you guys think in the comments.

That Shit Don't Fly With Me

2009-07-23T00:07:00.000-07:00

Two months ago PLFM started receiving a flurry of emails pointing us to a video of a recently scorned individual named "Ricky" on YouTube.

Ricky used to date a girl named Kelsi, and apparently the relationship didn't work out too well.

Needless to say, Kelsi soon returned to her ex-boyfriend, which didn't exactly sit well with Ricky. He felt Kelsi had manipulated him into believing she loved him, and then dumped his ass for an ex-boyfriend.

Like all mature adults, Ricky decided to post a video tribute to Kelsi on his Facebook page, which eventually found it's way to YouTube.

We'll let you watch the video first, and then we'll get to the rest of the story.

Now, tell me cats don't start fucking hissing the minute that guy enters a room.

Anyway, initially PLFM doubted the authenticity of this video. PLFM puts a lot of work into verifying our stories, and we didn't feel comfortable running the piece earlier because we weren't quite convinced that this wasn't just some random guy acting out a scene from a play.

Well, this week PLFM received another email from devoted PLFM reader VS informing us that Kelsi had actually posted a response to Ricky's video on YouTube, calling him a fucking psycho and congratulating him for making a complete ass out of himself in front of 33,000 people and counting.

Not only did Kelsi post her video, but Ricky's friend also stepped up to the plate and posted her own video defending Ricky.

If you'd like to watch Kelsi's video, you can click the link below.

PLFM warns you, you may start slitting your own wrists about 2 minutes into this. The first minute or so has some audio difficulties.

Kelsi's Response

If you'd like to know how this story turns out, I'm sure you can just tune in to YouTube and they'll tell you.

I promise you I won't be there.

I'm going to go take a fucking shower instead.

Anita Lopez and the Blue Cross Blue Shield Association

2009-07-22T05:10:00.000-07:00

PLFM reader AS writes in to share a bizarre website currently making the rounds on the internet.

"John" used to work at Blue Cross Blue Shield Association with a woman named Anita Lopez. BCBSA somehow ended up firing John, and John apparently blames the loss of his job on Anita Lopez.

Since his firing John has constructed an entire website devoted to Ms. Lopez, half of which seems to demonize her for trying to take advantage of him, yet the other half very plainly professing his undying love for her.

I think PLFM reader AS puts it best:

"If Marcel Proust was a self-involved IT contractor for Blue Cross Blue Shield, this is what he would have written in the 21st century."

The website is huge; you'll find phone calls John recorded and uploaded, his complete psychological breakdown of Anita's personality, a list of restaurants they enjoyed, and several "timelines" of his relationship with her before, during and after his firing.

He also offers a recollection of his fondest moments with her which, we might note, seem to us like very normal everyday situations that John really reads too much into.

You certainly won't read the whole thing, but it's worth a look.

Anita Lopez and the Blue Cross Blue Shield Association

Fond Memories of Anita

Let us know what you guys think in the comments.

Game Night

2009-07-20T23:37:00.000-07:00

Michelle recently accepted an invitation to join her friend and her friend's father for an evening hockey match in her hometown.

While most men might suggest women only enjoy hockey for the unruly temperment of the scarred and costumed goons blazing around the ice under the power of their rigid yet playful buttocks, Michelle rather enjoys the finer qualities of hockey.

And a fine game she witnessed; the home team scored several goals, and Michelle even caught a portion of a player's ear canal in a cup of Schlitz Malt Liquor.

Michelle's friend's father spent much of the game befriending an older gentleman in the seat next to him. Michelle, who is in her early 20s, estimates the friendy old chap was at least in his early 60's. He was a photographer, and had captured some excellent action shots of the home team scoring.

After the game the older man shared some of his handiwork with the group, and Michelle found a couple of remarkable pictures. The old man offered to send everyone in the group a few selected photos via email, so they proffered up their email addresses and everyone went about their merry way.

Michelle returned home and found an email from the gentleman in her inbox, but with no attachments. Perhaps the older gentleman was having trouble uploading the photos? Perhaps he was just letting Michelle know the pictures were on the way?

Ummm ... no.

"It is possibly the creepiest email I've gotten in my life," says Michelle. "Keep in mind while reading it that I am at least 40 years his junior and that he and I had no conversation beyond an exchange of emails and a request for photographs."

Now folks, let's pour ourselves a refreshing glass of awkward ...

Sweet Miss M,

It was indeed a pleasure meeting you tonite. It's been a very long time since I've had a one on one intelligent conversation with a lady who lives in the same universe that I do. I wanted very badly to ask you to join me next Friday nite and I don't know what stopped me. Oh,yea, you had to go powder your "nose". I just felt so very relaxed talking with you. Am I nuts?

I'd like you to know who I am. If you'd ever like to talk , I stay up until at least 12 MN everynite. I just hate going to bed. I hate hugging that long body pillow every nite. The poor thing is probably pretty doggone tired of being attacked by me, in my dreams, every nite. I get home from Church about 11:15 or so and usually spend the day staying at home. The pool in my apartment complex will be opening up soon. Yahoo!

This is hard to say. I know that I'm not supposed to like you (because of ages). It really is a miserable thing to find someone that is everything you want in a person, their personality, their career choice in a creative art area, their fantastic sense of humor, thier beauty both inward and outward, the way it feels to be with them... so relaxed like I've known her for my whole life.

And in {redacted} where I'm VERY seriously considering moving to permanently to work with a close friend of mine who is a Missionary. I was with him for two weeks a few yeas ago. It was wonderful there. And it is very common there to see men with younger wives. I think I may have my Vasectomy reversed and have a few children. On ONE FOURTH of my retirment I can live in the most luxurious townhouse or rent a house and pay all utilities, food and entertainment. To Bed and dreams.

God Bless You.

Love,

Hugh

Hugh then sent a lovely and heartfelt follow-up email upselling his lifetime of panther-esque genital adventures, along with a technical description of the minutiae involved in reversing his vasectomy.

Because as we all know, nothing ignites the white-hot masturbatory fantasies of a 21 year-old woman more than an elderly individual employing the words "cauterize" and "urethra" in a single sentence whilst waxing philosopically about his own penis.

"It's probably worth noting that my friend and her father didn't get pictures from the guy," adds Michelle.

"I was the only one who heard from him at all. After sharing the email with my friend, I chose not to respond. He sent a few more emails in the same vein as this one over the course of about a week, but eventually gave up, thank god. In comparison to some of the letters on your blog, I think I got off rather lightly."

We agree with you, Michelle.

By the way, how's your "nose"?

Fan Male

2009-07-19T21:21:00.000-07:00

Sunny wrote in to PLFM to share with us a lovely piece of email she recently received from an avid fan of her website.

"Back before I got my own P.O. box, I shared one with my friend Nicole who used hers for business purposes. If anything came for me, she'd call me and usually I'd just get her to open whatever it was while I was on the phone with her, so I'd know if I had to drive over there (20 mins away) tomorrow or next week to pick whatever it was up.

"Nicole called me like she always did and I told her to just open it...let's just say this letter prompted me to get my own P.O. box because poor Nicole's probably scarred for life."

(Click pics for clear version.)

I apologize about the lack of posts lately guys, but as my longtime readers know, I occasionally face insurmountable deadlines at my paying job and the blogs have to take a back seat.

I hope to post to WWHM by Friday and then I'm off on vacation for a week.

We'll be back after that, and please keep sending in your emails!

(As you can see, I also accept letters in .jpeg format if you'd like to scan it.)

-The Weasel

The Guilt Trip

2009-07-11T03:51:00.000-07:00

Clark and Janelle met a couple years ago through an internet message board while Janelle was involved in a relationship with another man.

Clark always seemed like a really nice guy, so Janelle and Clark corresponded occasionally over the internet for the next few years. And mind you, we're not talking about foggy webcams and protein-spackled keyboards; the two were strictly friendly acquaintances.

In the meantime, Janelle's relationship at home began to disintegrate and eventually came to a close.

Janelle and Clark then started to correspond more frequently, quickly graduating from the internet to the telephone. The sparks started to fly.

After a few months, Janelle and Clark finally decided it was time for the two to meet in person. Janelle took the plunge and drove 8 hours to Clark's hometown. They immediately hit it off, and ended up spending a week together. "We had a lot of fun," says Janelle.

So much fun, in fact, that Clark and Janelle decided to begin a relationship. Janelle offered to move to Clark's hometown, but warned Clark that she was in the midst of pursuing an education. Janelle had goals in life, and their relationship would always have to take a back seat to the acquisition of her degree.

Clark agreed, so Janelle moved in with Clark. They finally had some alone time together!

Um ... except when Clark's brother was home. And Clark's brother's girlfriend. And Clark's brother's best friend. And Clarks' brother's best friend's girlfriend. They all lived together.

Now, what I'm about to tell you is probably one the most shocking revelations you've ever read on PLFM, so I encourage you to brace yourselves. Ready? Here we go:

Janelle quickly realized Clark wasn't all he claimed to be over the internet!

You mean to say someone on the internet tried to portray themselves as something they weren't?

Heavens to Betsy, say it isn't so.

As Janelle explains it, Clark apparently had a "past," along with an ongoing relationship with a few questionable substances. And when we say "questionable substances," we're not referring to Tums and Blistex.

Janelle never quite explained exactly what Clark meant when he said he had a "past," but I think we can all safely assume having a "past" never means "I was a Brownie Troop Leader." More often than not, "past" means "jail."

Because of Clark's "past" he claimed he was barely able to provide for himself, not that he really even tried; having a job seriously cut into his pot-smoking efforts. As such, Janelle immediately became the heavy-hitting breadwinner of the household.

Janelle soon realized she wasn't ready to spend the rest of her life languishing with The Partridge Family Without Instruments, so she packed up most of her things and returned home to resume her education.

Well, not surprisingly, needy little Clark didn't like the fact that Janelle had left him to pursue this silly little "education" thing. Why did Janelle need an education when she could live with Clark and six other unmotivated people in a shoebox-sized townhouse? Wasn't his companionship more important than irrelevant nuisances such as jobs, bills, and dreams? Who was going to pay for Clark's Blistex?

The minute Janelle got home, Clark voiced his frustrations with Janelle in a two hour phone call. Going back to school was a stupid decision, he told her. It wasn't fair that Clark had to share Janelle with this "school" stuff, and it wasn't fair that Clark had to move out of his brother's house and across three states if he wanted to continue dating Janelle.

"He asked me why I couldn't just be happy with companionship. I didn't think companionship and being able to pay my bills were mutually exclusive things, but to him it obviously was," says Janelle. "It became painfully obvious to me that he would be much happier if I just took a job flipping burgers and was content to live with him, his brother, his brother's girlfriend, a friend of his brother's and that guy's girlfriend for the rest of my life."

Janelle wasn't much in the mood to explain herself further to this stunted toddler of a man. She asked Clark to mail her the remainder of her things, and cut off all contact.

Well, that made Clark's pants all poopy.

Poopy enough to send this sappy, guilt-ridden ode to Janelle's selfishness.

Slather it on Clark!

Janelle,

What to say, where to begin. How about with the obvious. Where’s your stuff?

Well, I’m broke & have no desire to spend my money on you.

As for the fridge, dvd player, and PS2 I don’t want your possessions. In fact I don’t want anything that reminds me of the once-friend you were. You’ve been more than clear on what you want. You’ve ostracized us from one another. Yes as lovers but more importantly as friends.

You’ve laid the blame at my feet since you left [redacted]…hell, before you left. Where was the compassion, empathy, respect & love that we allegedly had for one another? IF you cared about me you surely did not love me. If so your love is shallow. Reserved for those who don’t contradict you, for those who don’t disappoint you.

I know I have my share of faults and I accept you don’t want to be my love. You put physical distance, then emotional, then a total black-out. You simply removed yourself from my life. I lost someone I dearly loved. I lost the one person I thought of as a friend. Yeah, I’m bitter. You abandoned me.

Since, in all our long and immensely satisfying conversations, the closest you’ve come to accepting any blame, any responsibility, is to apologize for hurting me. How introspective of you! How honest! How fair!

Besides you can always do what you have been since July & just ignore me. Toss this letter in the trash, never finish it, never look back. In all honesty I don’t see why you would finish it.

You’re deaf to my emotions which is all this letter is.

You are callous & indifferent. You’ve hurt me deeply. I just don’t trust you anymore. That’s part of the reason I’m not paying to ship your belongings. Once the business of your stuff is over, so are we.

God it hurts to write that. Tears are in my eyes and my heart is throbbing. But this is the path you’ve chosen. That’s what’s so shitty. You chose and orchestrated these events.

Interesting. Makes me question other things.

I reckon none of those matter.

I’ve eat enough of your shit in the past year. Your motives are far from clear to me or perhaps I turn away from understanding. Whatever the case they don’t matter anymore. It’s your actions (or extreme inaction) that I’m focused on.

You’ve lumped me in the same group as your exes. I don’t really need to say much more on that.

Enjoy your island with it’s volcano.

Enjoy your success in the rat-race of capitalism.

Sincerely I wish the best of luck. I’m angry with you & feel betrayed but it doesn’t change the fact that I care immensely for you. Perhaps when you stop filling your world with distractions you’ll comprehend & maybe fucking care.

I wish to High-Heaven you had opted for communication instead of alienation. At least the friendship would’ve survived.

Goodbye.

And might I add: WAHHHHHHHH!

If the fact that you do drugs all day and can barely hold a minimum wage job didn't kill her libido, rest assured your impromptu guilt trip threw her libido in the desert for the vultures to scavenge through.

Here's an idea, Clark.

Stop snorting Tums and get a fucking life.

Or a job.

Prognosis: Asshole

2009-07-08T04:15:00.000-07:00

Kathy never quite fit the profile of your stereotypical corn-fed back-country female teenager.

While her overfed and under-educated high school girlfriends expelled a nearly constant stream of undernourished infants onto the floorboards of the town welfare office, Kathy chose to focus on her classwork in hopes of escaping the fate that befell so many generations before her.

Kathy wanted to attend college, move to the big city, and live the life most people in her hometown had only dreamed of. To achieve her goal, Kathy made a promise to her older sister that she would not have sex, drink or do drugs until she graduated from high school.

Kathy succeeded in her mission, and eventually found herself accepted to a number of out-of-state universities. She chose to attend a prestigious college nearly 1000 miles from her hometown, and couldn't wait for her new life to begin.

The hardest part?

Dumping her current boyfriend. "I told Chris I would have sex with him once I graduated but when it came down to it, he wasn't the guy I wanted to lose my virginity to," explains Kathy.

Kathy revoked his HymenPass© and set off for her college dorm, where she placed it a small glass case labelled "Break For Chiseled Buns Only."

Now, Kathy admits that while she was both excited and apprehensive about finally losing her virginity, she wasn't exactly going to give herself away to the first guy she saw. She wanted the right guy.

Kathy joined a sorority at her new college, providing her with ample opportunity to meet plenty of young fraternity men. She started drinking on weekends, hooked up with a few guys, made a lot of friends, but didn't really find anyone intriguing enough to sleep with.

Two months into her first semester, however, she found Todd.

Kathy describes him as gorgeous, charming, and really funny. "When he finally asked me out on a date, I knew he was going to be the guy." (Insert your own pre-teen, mall-style girlish giggles here.)

Todd didn't have much money, so on their first date he invited Kathy over to his room. When Kathy arrived, she found candles on his coffee table and Todd working a hot plate. "He made me what he called 'Todd Ramen.' It was really good and he was being so cute about it because he kept making jokes about how broke he was. I didn't care."

After dinner, Todd and Kathy started getting all hot and heavy on the couch in a manner you might expect from a couple of hot, young, nubile college undergrads, ever anxious to explore each other's tight, beautiful, firm bodies during the prime years of their lives.*

*Assholes

Ultimately however, Kathy didn't close the deal that first night. During a brief intermission in Act III of Fondle Me Gently, Todd asked Kathy "why she was so nervous." Kathy reluctantly admitted she was still a virgin and she wasn't quite sure if she was ready to have sex with him just yet.

Of course Todd was very supportive and understanding, so, according to Kathy, they "watched a movie for the rest of the night."

What movie, Kathy?

Yeah, that's what I thought.

Anyway, Todd and Kathy resumed their "relationship." They hung out frequently, met for lunch on campus, and often studied together. Kathy says she still wasn't quite ready to sleep with Todd just yet, but ultimately she knew she would when she felt comfortable. She really liked him. A lot.

But it sounds like Todd began losing his patience.

Todd seemed nice about it the first few times, but eventually he started getting testy when Kathy turned him down, as evidenced by this summarized chat snippet :

Kathy: (why are you) mad at me?

Todd: not mad i dont understand you

Kathy: ?

Todd: ????????

Kathy: what

Todd: why you always stop

Kathy: sorry

Todd: i still want to be with you

Kathy: (you are) with me

Todd: you know what (I) mean

Kathy was ready though, and decided the time had come for Todd to go where no man had gone before.

Todd had invited Kathy to one of their big fraternity theme date parties, and Kathy decided that would be a good night to lose her virginity to Todd. She prepared for the evening the same way every woman prepares to lose her virginity, which I imagine involves the copious application of some type of floral-scented genital powder that comes in a fancy-pants little tin with a mermaid on it.

Kathy got to the party and found Todd pretty drunk already. Kathy began drinking heavily herself, and before you knew it they were already back in Todd's room going at it hot and heavy, much to the chagrin of a certain fraternity couch.

Needless to say, the sex was absolutely amazing.*

*in the same way food poisoning is "amazing"

"It took forever and it was painful," says Kathy, adding "he was a pretty big guy."

Todd eventually got up and put his clothes back on. "Let's go back to the party," he told Kathy, and out the door he went without waiting for her.

That was it.

Kathy put her clothes back on and went back to the party. She only spoke to Todd a few more times that evening, and ended up leaving early to take a sick sorority sister home.

From that point forward, Todd began giving Kathy the cold shoulder. He rarely answered her texts, and always had excuses as to why he couldn't meet up with her. She'd drop by his fraternity and he'd say he was "busy." After a couple of weeks, Todd stopped responding to Kathy altogether. Through a sorority sister, Kathy eventually learned Todd had been pursuing another girl in a different sorority.

Kathy was devastated, and admits she might have gone a little overboard at first with the calls, emails and late-night texts to Todd. But she missed him terribly. She missed his cologne, she missed his smile, she missed her period, she missed his laugh, and she missed his .....

Whoa ... what? Rewind.

Kathy missed her period.

And a pregnancy test confirmed her worst fears.*

* "bees" fell to #2

Kathy initially tried calling Todd to tell him the news, but he wouldn't answer his phone. He wouldn't answer his texts either, so Kathy had to do it the hard way. She'd just text him the news.

"I'm pregnant," she texted.

Todd didn't reply for over an hour, when Kathy finally got this response:

"why are you telling me?"

Enraged, Kathy texted back and received no response.

Later that night, Kathy found the following email in her inbox from Todd.

Take it away, you big charmer:

When someone doesn't answer your texts and doesn't reply to your facebook emails, it means to stop texting me. Now your being plain stupid.

Even if I were to believe you were pregnant it couldnt be me (I don't believe you just so you know but I think we both know you aren't) For the sake of argument I did not come inside you. So how could I have gotten you pregnant? Maybe you should think about our history before you accuse me of getting you pregnant? Quit being so desperate

How many other guys you have slept with, maybe you should ask them Kathy? You play miss innocent virgin, but you shouldn't think I dont know you better now. Maybe I should talk to XXXXX or XXXXX at (fraternity redacted). Should I go on? Or should I embarass you more then you are already? Because I will if you want to keep sending me threats. I already showed XXXXXXX and XXXXXX your texts.

Maybe you should find something better to do with your time, accusing me of pregnancy is the dumbest thing you could have done and now you've pushed my buttons too far. If you don't get it I will gladly spell it out for you.

I didn't get you pregnant, and you might think if you keep calling me or texting me that I will meet with you again, but you are wrong.

The more you text me the more you annoy me and I think youre going to be a stalker which you already are, so if you want me to respect you, you would stop texting me.

Grow up and move on!

Quit e-mailing me and texting me or I will file harassment charges against you with [redacted]

Todd

In her letter to PLFM, Kathy responds:

"The two [fraternity redacted] guys he's referring to I didn't do anything with other than make out a little, and Todd knew that. He was the only guy I EVER slept with at that point."

So in a nutshell, Todd knew Kathy was a virgin when he slept with her. Then he accuses her of making up a pregnancy story to get his attention. But then he pulls a 180 and accuses her of getting pregnant by whoring it up like all those recently de-flowered virgin hookers do.

Anyway, Todd didn't respond to Kathy that evening, and she ended up breaking out into hysterics with a large group of her sorority sisters.

The next day, a sorority "strike force" confronted Todd on campus on behalf of Kathy. Kathy's sorority sisters helped Todd understand that, in no uncertain terms, he had impregnated Kathy. If he felt otherwise, he certainly might find his balls in a jar on a shelf somewhere in the medical lab.

Todd apparently came to his senses. Full of regret and feeling badly for the manner in which he had treated Kathy, Todd sat down and wrote a long, beautiful email, baring his soul to Kathy and waxing eloquently about his poor behavior.

Well, not quite.

This is actually what he wrote her:

Kathy

Do what you have to do and I'll pay my half.

Nice, Todd. Very deep.

We're going to end our story there, folks, but we can tell you Todd fulfilled his promise and left the next semester to a different school. Kathy obviously hasn't heard from him since. Thankfully.

Now, Kathy acknowledged in her letter the tremendous stupidity of not using birth control and realizes she'll probably get bashed for it in the comments, but I'm just throwing it out there so you guys know.

Reader Update from Annie

2009-07-08T03:07:00.000-07:00

PLFM recently received an update from "Annie," whose situation with uber-creep "Robert" we profiled in "He Just Doesn't Get It" on May 2nd.

Hey Weasel! This is "Annie" from the story of "Annie" and "Robert."

Robert has never truly ceased to stop contact with me... he still sends the occasional email that says something like "Just wanted to make sure you were alright" or will "accidently" call my phone. The other day he left me a message on the forum we are both on that said "Annie... yes that was me driving behind you this morning... next time don't be a bitch, atleast wave a little." Of course, I now live 300 miles away from him so there's no possible way I was there!

He of course reads my blog and comments on my life, and still tries to contact friends of mine to find out what I am up to on weekends. But of course, the best part and reason I had to email you, was because I just found out that Robert is getting into a new line of work... oh yes, Robert is creating his own DATING SITE! He has been asking my friends for suggestions oh what domain name he should choose for his new site, saying that he has unlocked the secret to dating success!

Yikes.

Thanks for the update Annie, and for all you other readers currently profiled on PLFM, please send in any pertinent updates to your stories. -The Weasel

No, It's Because You're An Asshole

2009-07-05T23:09:00.000-07:00

Gina recently accepted an opportunity to join in on a roundtable discussion regarding subtle racial tensions on her college campus.

Afterwards, a man named Carl approached Gina for a little one-on-one conversation.

Apparently, Carl felt the best way for different groups of people to come together was to literally have them ~~come~~ cum together.

"Out of pretty much no where, he came on to me in a very explicit, gross, sexist way," says Gina.

Carl began their brainstorming session on race relations with a two-part story detailing how he lost his virginity.

In the first part of his story, Carl gleefully and graphically recollected the day he lost his virginity to an "ugly girl." While Carl didn't much care for the girl, he decided to give her a "couple of pokes" anyway.

In the second part of his story ... oh, wait, there was no second part.

But thankfully, according to Carl, there was a lesson learned:

"Once you go black, you never go back."

Which proved Carl was not only comfortable in sharing his sexual exploits with complete strangers, but he was completely fucking unoriginal in every sense of the word.

Carl began pressing Gina to provide information regarding her sexual history, at which point Gina explained to Carl she was extremely uncomfortable with the direction their conversation had taken.

Carl understood and dropped his line of questioning, but filled the sudden lull in their conversation by describing his long-time sexual "fetish" for Jewish girls.

Yes, that's right, Carl loved Jewish women, but of course he would never go down on one.

In fact, Carl told Gina that he never goes down on women. If the two began dating sometime in the near future, Carl insisted he would not perform oral sex on Gina, but, of course, Gina would be required to perform oral sex on him.

Carl's girlfriend thankfully interrupted the conversation with a phone call, and Gina listened in as Carl lied to his girlfriend about his whereabouts. They were in the common area of her dormitory, but Carl told his girlfriend otherwise.

Gina was pretty sure she knew the type of guy she was dealing with now.

"I got nervous about kicking him out because he was being so aggressive and I didn't want to incite a confrontation since there was no one around, but after I insisted he leave, I began to get a series of emails, to which I mostly did not reply."

After receiving several graphic emails, Gina informed Carl he needed to refrain from contacting her any further. If Carl sent her one more email, she would immediately request a restraining order against him through the campus police department.

And we all know what that means here at PLFM.

It means Carl responded with the following email:

Gina,

I tried to be the big person in order to bring an end to this senseless animosity. However, one individual can only do so much. I have done all that I can. But I leave you with one last thought.

Do you wonder why all of the black kids sit with each other in the cafeteria?

It’s because they are both afraid to interact with people of another race and they have had negative experiences. I tried not to be one of those stereotypical black students at [college redacted] that only talks to my on kind but time after time I see that it’s no use.

I count you in those throngs of white kids that don't understand us around campus and don't care to understand us. I just don't understand how anyone could turn away a chance to bring an end to senseless racial tension through simple interact(ion).

I won't even go into the animosity between blacks and Jews. You can ponder that yourself as you ask how many black people actually show up at XXXXX XXXXXXXXX (even during black history month).

And now I will end this.

But I hope in the future that you remember all of this next time you wonder why the black kids don't interact with you much around campus.

Carl

Hmmmm, Carl.

That's strange, because Gina actually volunteered to attend the meeting in order to discuss solutions for improving relations between different groups on campus.

Yet all you wanted to talk about was your fucking dick.

So, in turn, we hope in the near future you'll discover the reason women refuse to interact with you on campus has nothing to do with the fact that you're black.

More likely, it's because you're a whole new strain of fucking asshole.

Adds Gina: "I'm (sending this to PLFM) two years later because I no longer get shaky and nauseated just thinking about it, and it feels therapeutic."

One Bad Date

2009-07-01T05:04:00.000-07:00

Today, PLFM takes a step back and lets two fighters duke it out.

Now, PLFM didn't get much backstory on today's case, but one thing is very clear:

There's some free planters sitting out on the corner somewhere in Baltimore.

Now, let's go over what we do know:

Dan and Laura recently went out on a date.

Maybe two, we're not really sure.

Initially, it sounds like Dan and Laura felt a little spark between one another.

But somehow, somewhere, the spark suddenly exploded, and both parties got burned.

And today, my friends, we sift through the ashes.

First up, we have Dan providing a little sunshine:

Laura,

I'm really sorry if I did anything to upset you. I was really happy to have met someone with a very silly sense of humor, open minded, attractive and jewish. I was excited that you are going to journey out to XXXX and just (and still) wanted to be helpful.

I'm home from work and running errands in the area. If you are around I will quickly pick the planters up and be on my way.

Cheers,

Dan

Hmmmm, Dan's email seems a little cloudy.

Perhaps Laura can provide some cleansing rain?

Dan,

You are a cool guy, but it boggles my mind that you walked up to the ticket booth and said, "1 for star trek" and then stepped aside so I could get my own ticket. Where I come from a guy pays for a woman in the beginning.

While I was shocked when you took the $ at the bar on Saturday, I recognized that I did offer.

You made me laugh so hard and I had a good time that I chose not to dwell on a petty $ issue, but then you did it again.

It's just not classy, especially when followed by a comment along the lines that you thought you'd get more, like a kiss or something when I went to say goodbye outside the theater.

Really?

I'm actually in and out all day. I can leave the boxes outside, like I mentioned, so you can pick them up. Does that work?

Laura

And now take cover my friends, because here comes Dan's big thunder!

Laura,

Thank you for writing back and being honest.

Allowing you to pay for your own ticket "boggles your mind", huh?

Well, I'll tell you what boggles MY mind. For some reason you have these outrageous expectations that a man can only be classy if he gives the woman he's interested in a total free ride.

You claim to choose to not dwell on a petty money issue, but that's exactly what you are doing. You actually chose to focus your emotions on whether I was picking up your bar tab instead of allowing you to possess a modicum of self reliance.

Where *I* come from, it is 2009 and its a great place to live. This is where women aren't looked at as 'the fairer (read "weaker") sex, but seen as equals to men. Its not the 1950's which was a time of one-income households, but a time of shared burdens.

Oh sure there are plenty of sugar daddies to be found out there, but how many of them will give you the same deep belly laughs where your cheeks hurt from smiling so hard? If you hold on to those outdated beliefs of yours, then you should also be eagar to service the man that is bankrolling you too, b/c that's what is expected from that type of exchange.

When I tried kissing you in the vestibule before the movie, you muttered a remark which you did not want to repeat, but now I understand it was likely about accepting your previous offer of buying your own drink. I'd say that's painfully shallow, forgetful, and hurtful that you so easily overlooked my previous generosity.

I feel obligated to recap the charges I DID pay for since you are clearly caught up on the two that I didn't.

Starting with paying for that second slice of pizza you split with Bob the first night meeting you, there was your lunch after the park, 70% of that burger meal, buying our breakfast the morning of Lowes, getting a six pack for you & Christy, graciously supplying greeeens the whole time I was with you, and even after you went ice cold b/c I didn't pony up your movie ticket, i STILL covered the popcorn and soda even though you asked me so sourly.

Now lets talk about class and "classy". One of the reasons why I didn't pay for your movie ticket was b/c I wasn't sure what was going on in your head up to that point in the day. You had stopped being flirtatious. The whole walk to the theater you were cold to me. I was feeling rather unappreciated and also somewhat confused by how you were behaving.

I showed the quality of my character and had been a complete gentleman throughout by running out specially for drinks, running up and down the stairs for water, being genuinely concerned for your friend's well being, making your neighbor's children laugh, entertaining your friends and even helping you paint!

I'd say that's pretty high class, and had you shown me some interest and not gotten caught up in that small minded thinking I most certainly would have bought the movie ticket too. THAT is just the kind of guy that I am.

Amongst my friends and family, I'm well known as being very generous with my money and most especially generous with my time. So after the movie when I said that I thought I'd get more of a response from you, or at the very least a goodbye kiss, yeah, REALLY.

Overall, you need to re-examine the values you look for in a man. It boggles my mind that you squashed something that I thought could have been really great between us b/c your movie wasn't on my dime.

I work really hard and long hours and put up with a ton of crap for my dollars. I don't think you can say the same, yet you have an outrageous sense of self-entitlement that is pretty undeserved.

I'm bummed it didn't work out between us, but not too bad since I see you are quite superficial and not worth a quality guy like myself.

One last thing, you can keep those planters. It will almost cover the cost of the burger and movie ticket while saving me travel time and keeping my dignity.

Best,

Dan

Hmmmm.

Pretty harsh email there, Dan.

I don't know though folks, this could be a tough one.

Was Laura wrong for sparking the money issue?

Was Dan a cheap asshole? Or was he an asshole for the reason he was being cheap?

Or both? Or neither?

Either way, from now on I'm pretty sure vaginas will slam shut around Dan like his penis was selling vacuum cleaners.

Discuss.

Photo Finish (Entry Not Safe For Work)

2009-06-26T00:19:00.000-07:00

Sarah was frustrated.

An attractive woman with a full set of teeth, Sarah had recently waded into the deepest depths of her local dating pool only to emerge with lightly splashed kneecaps.

There just wasn't that much out there for her.

So Sarah elected to join a popular national dating website instead, hoping she might find an attractive man in her area with at least a few similar interests.

She didn't find much to her liking, but apparently several guys found Sarah quite the catch. She eventually fell into casual conversation with a man named Bob.

Right away, Sarah realized Bob might have some issues.

Raised as an only child and spoiled rotten throughout his life, Bob constantly craved Sarah's undying attention, yet simultaneously spoke only of himself and always had to have the last word.

She wasn't attracted to Bob, but frankly, she didn't have any other dating prospects, and actually kind of felt bad for the guy.

"I guess it was the way he laid all his pathetic stuff out for me, like a yard sale of the sads," she says. "I think sometimes I date just because I'm bored."

In only their second online conversation, Bob admitted to Sarah he hadn't been on a date in nearly 5 years. "I'm just not that into casual sex," he explained.

For those women not in the know, that's man-speak for "I can't find anyone who will fuck me." Sarah concurs, adding "If I show up at this guy's house wearing only a thin layer of oil, he'll be all up in me like stuffing in a Thanksgiving turkey."

Agreed, Sarah. Agreed.

Anyway, Bob and Sarah end up going out on one date, which Sarah described as "painful." Rather than dumping Bob on the spot, Sarah decided to help Bob out a little by politely highlighting some personality changes he might consider in order to make himself more attractive to single women in the future.

"He did not take it well," reflects Sarah, and Bob went right back to showcasing the "sads."

Sarah and Bob conversed via text over the next week or so. While Bob slowly became infatuated with Sarah, Sarah became completely indifferent to Bob. She was trying to be nice, but Bob's texts became increasingly needy and, well, strange.

"I don't really remember, he says some things to me that are pretty wacky. I dismiss them, I mean, he's not exactly socially retarded," recalls Sarah.

Unfortunately, she was just about to find out exactly how socially retarded Bob really was.

Only a couple weeks after meeting Sarah, Bob was apparently hanging out with his best female friend when he sent Sarah the following text:

Bob: Do you want to have kids?

Sarah was a bit taken aback. She did, but certainly not his kids. She didn't know where he was going with this, so she texted back:

Sarah: I haven't decided yet.

Bob: My best friend says that since you're 30, you shouldn't have kids past the age of 35.

Now Sarah was pissed off. Why the fuck was this assclown discussing her womb with some woman she didn't even know?

Sarah: It's none of her business, and I don't want to discuss it further.

Bob: Yeah, I just told her she has too big of a heart.

Sarah: I think she needs to mind her business about the kid thing because that is something that is not her concern. Unless she gets me pregnant.

Bob: You blow things way out of proportion!

Personally, I disagree. As a guy, I certainly wouldn't want some woman I barely know having a casual conversation about my penis over coffee with some guy I didn't know at all.

So on this note, Sarah stopped responding to his texts.

And Bob got upset, because he sensed Sarah was upset.

What could he possibly do to get back in her good graces? He hadn't talked to her for over an hour!

To express his true feelings for Sarah, Bob decided to put together a nice little picture for her.

And this is what he sent Sarah one hour later:

Yes, folks, that's right.

As a token of his affection for Sarah, Bob took her online profile picture and Photo-shopped his cock onto her lips.

Absolutely lovely.

This blog is just fucking kittens and rainbows sometimes, isn't it?

Anyway, Sarah isn't one of those people that reacts hysterically to anything. In fact, she initially just laughed at how truly pathetic Bob had become.

You see, Bob didn't even understand that there was anything wrong with this type of behavior.

But Bob wasn't quite finished, and Sarah was genuinely offended by Bob's next work of art, which unfortunately we don't have.

Bob found a photo of himself with his dog, and proceeded to Photoshop an image of Sarah into the picture, creating a family photo of the group.

After two weeks, one date, and no physical contact.

And keep in mind, he sent the "family" photo after his Pulitzer prize-winning "Whence One Kisses a Penis" photo.

Needless to say, it was time to have "that" conversation with Bob.

"A conversation he's probably had many times before," adds Sarah.

Sarah informed Bob his love affair with her was officially over, and Bob needed to re-direct his romantic aspirations elsewhere.

"I won't give up on you that easily. You told me before that I was too demanding, and I changed that," Bob doth protested.

Yet Sara held firm as Bob tried to guilt her into establishing some sort of "relationship" with him, a ploy almost as effective as his sub-par Photoshop handiwork.

Eventually, Bob realized he was done.

"The fucked up part is, I feel bad for him. Because, like it or not, I know he's wondering what exactly he did," says Sarah. "He's probably even a pretty good guy, to his dog. And his mom."

Sarah remains single today, but she always carries a little memento of her brief experience with Bob.

"Now when people ask me why I'm single, I just show them Bob's photo."

Proving once again that a picture most certainly is worth a thousand words.

Or more.

PLFM would seriously like to thank Sarah for being such a great sport about sharing her story with us, and sharing her photo in particular.

Unfortunately, we know this isn't an isolated incident.

If you've had a guy text you a photo of his dick or whip out his dick out way too early in the dating process, please let us know in the comments.

Employee Relations

2009-06-24T03:52:00.000-07:00

Dana takes pride in her unofficial role as "social chairman" for her large Midwestern corporate office.

She frequently organizes after-work events and parties for her co-workers to attend, and recently met a fellow employee named Nate at one of these events.

Nate seemed like a nice enough guy, so Dana took down his information and added him to her Evite list, which she regularly sends around the office to notify fellow employees of upcoming events. The list is hardly exclusive; each Evite goes out to well over 50 people in her department alone.

Nate subsequently declined every invitation to Dana's employee events, yet would mysteriously show up anyway. Although Dana found his behavior peculiar, she didn't think much of it. After all, she barely knew the guy aside from a few casual conversations.

"No big deal," she thought.

But then things began to take a strange turn.

Nate began sending private texts and emails to Dana, asking her if she'd like to go out for a round of drinks or perhaps a nice dinner. Dana politely declined Nate's requests, explaining that she had a long-term boyfriend with whom she was quite happy. She felt she made it quite clear to Nate that she wasn't interested. At all.

Or so she thought.

Halloween came around, and Dana decided to organize a huge Halloween Pub Crawl for her friends and co-workers. Nate declined the initial group invitation as usual, but sure enough halfway through the evening Nate appeared, dressed up in a Hershey's T-shirt covered in fake lipstick kisses.

A more appropriate costume would have been 60 Minutes correspondent Morley Safer however, because Nate spent the entire evening conducting ruthless interrogation sessions with Dana's non-work friends, trying desperately to find out more information about her. Dana wasn't aware of the commotion; she was too busy hosting the pub crawl and having a great time with her boyfriend.

The party ended up at Dana's apartment later that night, and everybody was having a great time. Everyone, that is, except for Nate.

Nate suddenly pulled Dana into the living room, and inexplicably began screaming at her for "ignoring him" throughout the course of the evening. He tossed a stuffed animal gift at her, followed by the impromptu delivery of a speech intended to qualify the muted symbolism of his chosen attire for the evening.

"I'm dressed as a piece of chocolate because you're allergic to chocolate. But I'm a piece of chocolate you can have!" screamed Nate.

I'm not saying the room suddenly grew silent, but a well-timed gnat fart reverberated like a close-range thunderclap.

After thoroughly embarrassing himself, Nate stormed out the door into the night.

Oddly, he didn't stick around to enjoy cake.

"Then the emails and texts started coming," says Dana, adding, "I should say hate texts and emails."

Dana attempted to smooth out any misunderstandings with Nate by explaining, once again, that she had a long-term boyfriend, and had no interest whatsoever in dating Nate.

She didn't hear from him again until late November, when Dana's uncle died. Nate once again began texting Dana repeatedly, asking her out for drinks so she could have an opportunity to "vent" her feelings about her uncle's death.

Dana completely ignored his texts, and, cautious of his bizarre behavior, quickly removed his name from the employee Evite list.

The texts slowly began to die off until December, when Dana came into work one day to find a Christmas gift on her desk.

From Nate.

Nate had purchased Dana a set of "Bow Biters," essentially small plastic neon Muppet heads designed to permanently fasten shoelaces. Bow Biters primarily appeal to three year-olds, as the packaging clearly warns "CHOKING HAZARD-Small Parts." (Insert your own joke here.) She initially thought of them as a gag gift, but Nate's ensuing email proves otherwise.

Nate wrapped the Bow Biters in a Cherry Pie box, and left a really creepy card on top of the ensemble.

Dana ignored Nate's overture, hoping he would simply get the hint and go away.

In January, Dana began to fire up the employee social schedule again by organizing a Roller Derby event amongst her closest friends at work. Nate somehow found out about the event, and arrived uninvited. Dana was disturbed at Nate's behavior up to this point, so she left the function early to avoid any further confrontations with Nate.

Which of course led to another barrage of texts and emails.

Sick of his unwelcome missives, Dana decided to issue one last text, again attempting the courteous route:

"It's no big deal, but you make me feel uncomfortable. I will NOT meet you for drinks."

Now, remember folks, Dana barely even knows this guy.

Yet here is Nate's email response to her text:

Dana,

Uncomfortable, not sure what I can do to help you with that other than the passage of time. Without knowing more from you, I’m not even sure what aspect of Halloween has you feeling uncomfortable.

(1) You could be angry, disgusted, and offended all wrapped up into a cute little 5’5-8ish”( In heels?) just below my chin, ball of fiery wrath.

(2) You could feel uncomfortable, because you feel bad or think I resent you in some way.

- The truth is, I only think about Halloween when I begin to feel awkward after I sense you are feeling weird or I get lost in thoughts of past miss-steps on my behalf, turning my cheeks red with embarrassment within the confines of my car, nothing you did.

- It wasn’t as an enormous deal in a relationship sense. We weren’t a couple, I wasn’t getting cheated on. The only thing that upset me was what I felt was a gross disrespect toward me as a person and friend. Everyone is a loser in love throughout their life, I accept that side of the coin on face value.

- I was already broken, I had "betrayal" tattooed on my chest earlier that summer by someone I’d been seeing for over a year, who had another boyfriend that whole time as well.

(3) You could feel weird because you think I am still pursuing you romantically and have chosen the path of cold resistance to throw me off your trail,. Your patience definitely seemed to run out shortly after you received those glamorous bowbiters (A girls true best friend forever).

First let me say, any gentleman would consider himself “once in a life time lucky” to be immersed in you everything that is you. You are exceptionally beautiful, great smile (the real one that occasionally escapes unchecked, although I know you have a real knockout you’ve rehearsed since highschool for potential photo-ops), a glint in your eye, infectious laugh, just an incredible person with a real spark and enthusiasm for life in you. What more does a guy need?!?

- The answer is no, I have not been pursuing you. I have been on hiatus since Halloween. I realized I needed a break from women in general to get my shit together and rebuild my confidence in the integrity of the better half of our species. It was long overdue. I haven’t been going out of my way to pursue you or anyone else.

Nate

Dana responded with an email of her own, simply requesting that Nate no longer contact her, something she had been trying to get him to understand for months by completely ignoring him.

Would that explanation suffice?

Of course not.

Go ahead, Nate:

Dana,

I appreciate all the effort you put into "trying." If you have a problem with me, I deserve to hear what it is. None of this glossing over it as just being uncomfortable. People fight all the time over dumb shit and life isn't awkward 3 months later.

It is weird situation to be the one who had to do the forgiving instead of walking away.

I can't even tell you how disheartening it is to see you are still friends with that douchebag. I will go to my grave seething over that fella, but his comments were no fault of your own. On the flip side, as far as I can tell, you never stuck up for me at all.

I was done with halloween and had moved on. I'll respect the decision if thats what you want, but I will not respect the process nor you for making it 3 months after the fact w/o saying anything. Ignoring a problem isn't trying and hoping I eventually go away isn't trying.

I'm finding the more I ramble the whinier, bizarre, and greater the bleeding heart gets. You aren't going to get over anything if you've been doing the opposite of trying though.

In most instances I am a man of my word except when it comes to unfiltered streams of panic'd thought and mixed emotions I guess. I am going to earn a cry baby title fairly soon and should probably butch up a bit ;)

Nate

Yeah, Nate, you might want to butch up just a bit. I've seen bigger balls sprinkled on the frosting of my morning cupcake.

Dana realized that providing Nate any sort of response simply added fuel to the fire, so she kept quiet. She only had a few more weeks to go before she transferred to a different department anyhow, and Nate would be out of her hair forever.

But of course, her lack of response brought yet another email from Nate:

Dana,

A fourth grader can hold her breath in silent protest. It doesn't resolve or prove anything, nor make her any more mature.

I genuinely tried to do a nice thing and offer to sit down over drinks and discuss what ever is obviously bothering you. Up till now, I hadn't brought up Halloween once, and I literally sat down and brain stormed what the problem may be.

My circle is all about peace love and lollipops. If someone is in that circle struggling, I want to do what I can to help. This is also about me just as much as you. Your discomfort is my discomfort. So I did it for myself just as much as you. I came up with a few things, some of which you saw and others you didnt where there was no nice way to put it so I left them off.

1. maybe something has you mad, I was harsh and perhaps your feelings are still sore. it was a lot nicer than saying, get that sand out of your ass.. don't you think?

2. Maybe you thought I secretly loathe you. Not the case. I even made light of a past relationship and due to that maybe overreacted to some degree on Halloween.

3. Finally, I considered that despite everything I still have a romantic interest.

This came to mind because, I have actually been in your seat with three other people who have worked for XXXXXXX that wanted to date me and it made things weird. So I have empathy for your position, if that is where you are sitting.

It was easier to date every hot waitress I worked with when I was 20, not so much now as an adult. I genuinely tried to be nice about this point. I tried to give you a shot of confidence in the arm, tell you about some of your great qualities and go get 'em tiger there is a stud out there for you! but I'm personally not interested.

It is a lot nicer of a gesture Dana, than to say you fell so far down the list, you do not even make my top 100 anymore. Not that its any of your business, but of the people I've been seeing casually, I have one in particular who I've been growing extremely fond of, and when I'm ready, I think I'd really like to see on a more formal basis. She isn't you.

I'm done ranting endlessly. Its pointless, and your senseless actions have only flustered me to the point where everything seems childish. I'm going to leave it be for a couple weeks to let us both cool down, but I will not let this go.

You pretty much came out of the blue and are behaving.. stupid. I'm not a boyfriend you dump and forget, I am your friend and I deserve better than this.

I'm sorry if I've upset you over the last few days, but we had an opportunity to take the high road on this, and you chose to steer us in the ditch.

Nate

Done? No.

One final attempt made it into Dana's inbox:

Dana,

If you'd like to get together over a milk shake or burrito and air your grievances before partying this evening, I'll make myself available. I still deserve an answer how we went from being the best gift giver, nettle soup, and nip/tuck banter in December to you doing a 180.

Nate

Dana finally escaped Nate's confused affections once she left his department, but it wasn't quite the last she heard of him.

A few weeks later, two co-workers pulled Dana aside and informed her Nate had been sending them emails about her.

Not only that, but Nate had also written the women emails about the newfound "friendship" he felt with them, and how it had begun to "affect him professionally."

They took notes, and promptly told him to go fuck himself sideways.

Dana hasn't heard from him since.

Now, a couple weeks ago we ran a similar story dealing with slimy customers rather than slimy co-workers, and that entry alone had racked up over 600 comments the last time I checked.

Though we probably won't beat that, feel free to put your experiences with your own fucked-up co-workers, male or female, in the comments.

And if you have incriminating letters or emails, screw the comments and send them directly to me at weaselworden@yahoo.com.

We'll print them up for the world to see.

Because I'm an asshole like that.

Idle Threats: Part Deux

2009-06-19T03:35:00.000-07:00

Angelina and Peter found themselves stuck in a ho-hum relationship that felt like one of those really bad CSI episodes- you already know how it's going to end, but you're both too lazy to change the channel.

Peter was a nice enough guy and all, but Angelina knew she would never marry him. As far as she knew, the feeling was mutual.

Their lives together had become a testament to the routine and boring; you go to work and come home, you talk a bit about the weather over some Kung Pao chicken, and maybe once a month he'd laboriously mount her like a trained seal, perform a little scripted mechanical fumbling, and 3 minutes later his face would resemble a donkey choking on a golf ball.

Angelina admits Peter kind of squeaked his way into her life in the first place. After a difficult divorce three years prior, Peter had earnestly auditioned for the role of "rebound." And like most rebounds, Peter won the part by lacking the qualities Angelina so detested in her ex-husband.

But the performance piece was long over, and Angelina was ready to move on. She just needed that little extra kick to finally push her out of the house, and Peter eventually provided the foot:

Angelina learned Peter had placed his profile on a local dating site.

Check, please!

La Vaginelle de Angelina promptly closed for business, and the hostess informed Peter he needed to find a new place to eat.

Luckily, Angelina lived only three hours away from her hometown of Williamsburg, and couldn't wait to move back home near her family and start life anew. The possibilities were endless; new job, new boyfriend, and a whole new direction she had sought in the years since her divorce.

Her dreams immediately came to fruition. Angelina found a new job that she loved, and found a new boyfriend named Mark that loved her. She enjoyed living near her parents, and the forecast for her life couldn't possibly have looked sunnier.

Until four months later, when Hurricane Peter suddenly re-formed on the horizon.

And he was out to prove one thing: He totally fucking blows.

Peter began contacting Angelina to recite a series of poorly-constructed haikus concerning her selfish decision to move so far away from him. He usually followed his complaints by making belittling comments about her new hometown of Williamsburg, saying it was too small and full of people he didn't like.

Damn, Williamsburg, you got fucking OOOOWWWNNED!

Angelina attempted to expedite the process by revealing her new relationship with Mark to Peter, hoping this might help Peter understand the breakup was permanent and perhaps it was time for him to move on to greener pastures. The plan backfired horribly, and Peter became so incensed that he literally began foaming at the mouth, which may or not have led to the soiling of his new collection of "I ♥ Williamsburg" T-shirts.

Peter somehow tracked down Mark's cellphone number and began texting Mark questions about his relationship with Angelina. Hoping to circumvent further problems, Mark initially denied the relationship, causing Peter to theorize that Angelina had "made up" this whole story about a boyfriend just to infuriate Peter.

Peter also signed up to Angelina's favorite internet message board for the sole purpose of tracking her communications, as Peter had absolutely zero interest in the topic of the message board. Which leads PLFM to speculate that perhaps the topic of the message board was "How To Move On From a Failed Relationship in a Mature Manner."

Then came a flurry of Jekyll and Hyde emails, choking her inbox with an assortment of angry emails intertwined with bizarre pleas to help him "move forward":

Hi Angelina,

Why can you not be nice?

I know that you are not over me or you could be civil and nice if you were.

I am not stalking you by wishing you a great day and letting you know that I miss you. I hope that you will let go of the hate that you have inside and realize that you still have feelings for me.

I am not asking you to act on those feelings just be nice to me. I know that it will take time for you stop hating me and then hopefully we can move forward.

I know that you know that we had a great relationship together for three years and shared everything. If you do try and date you will realize like I did that what we had is really hard to find.

Please be nice and treat me like a person that you use to love. Look inside your heart and you know what is there. I do still love you and miss you and am trying to move on like you said but it is really hard.

I am sorry if I am bothering you but I need to say these things.

Have a good day.

Peter

Angelina completely ignored Peter's communications, which apparently threw in reverse Peter's aforementioned plans to "move forward."

Rather, Peter decided to "move backward" by threatening to drive down to Williamsburg to place a GPS tracking device on her vehicle so he could track her movements around that god-awful shithole of Williamsburg, which, if you haven't heard, really sucks balls.

When these idle threats failed to provoke a response, Peter changed tactics by sending a huge bouquet of flowers to Angelina at her place of employment.

Rather than drop to her knees in a fit of unbridled lust, Angelina just stuck to the game plan. She ignored him.

Peter then decided it was time to pull out the big motherfuckin' guns.

Go ahead and shoot your blanks, Peter.

Angelina,

I was not going to do this but now I am not sure.

I copied all your posts from the message board and wouldn't you know it they were almost all posted while you were at work.

I wonder if I start sending all 44 post that were done on company time to the president of your company and work my way down thru all the executives if they would be interested on just how hard of a worker you really are.

You seem to think that tearing my heart out by moving away and then trying to rub my nose in this fake boyfriend which is stabbing my heart is a lot of fun. All I wanted was to be friendly to each other and that seems to be out of the question.

I wonder if your ex-husband would be interested in knowing that his tax exempt was used for a few years after you guys were divorced.

I did not want it to come to this so I better start getting a little respect from you.

I thought that after how wonderful our relationship was "you said it on a daily basis" that you would not find another man that could make you as happy as I did.

Just food for thought......

Peter

Peter, your food for thought lacks presentation and smells like a load of shit.

But Peter finally achieved his goal.

Angelina responded.

She responded by issuing Peter a final warning: If you contact me one more fucking time, I'm going directly to the local authorities to file harassment charges against you, and you can expect a restraining order to slap you across the face like a cold, dead sea bass.

And of course in true PLFM fashion, guess what happened.

Peter wrote her back with some helpful advice:

Would you like me to give you their phone numbers?

There has been no threats against you physically. You really need to brush up on you local laws.

I will be sending out those copied posts from the message board to the head honchos.

Hopefully you will get fired but do not worry their is a lot of opportunity down there.

Maybe then you will feel like I have for the last 4 months. The broken heart pain and cannot sleep because somebody ruined you life.

Thanks, next week will be fun for you...........

Peter

As promised, Angelina proceeded to lug an immense stack of emails down to the Williamsburg courthouse, where she found a large group of individuals who were surprisingly familiar with their local laws.

Particularly the harassment laws, which Peter might to brush up on.

They gleefully slapped a restraining order on Peter's ass, ensuring he no longer had reason to visit the town for which he had such a distaste.

If Angelina sends me any updates, I'll be sure to let you guys know.

That's it for this week guys, I'm outta here. Post anything you want in the comments this weekend, I read everything you guys write.

Have a great weekend everyone.

PLFM Presents: How Not to Respond to a Personal Ad

2009-06-18T00:43:00.000-07:00

Several PLFM readers recently alerted us to an online dating profile response posted up at passiveaggressivenotes.com.

An anonymous submitter to PANotes apparently received the following emails in regards to a personal ad she had placed on Match.com:

From: XXXXXXXX
To: XXXXXXX
Date received: January 30, 2009
Subject: you couldn't even say hi to me?

hey,

I don't know if you know but there is this link in match.com where I can see who browsed my profile. Looks like you checked out my profile but you did not send me an email. I am shocked! You couldn't even say hi to me?

Hmmm.

Kinda strange.

A little awkward.

But when the next unsolicited email arrives, well, it just kind of gets uncomfortable.

From: XXXXXXXX
To: XXXXXXX
Date received: February 3, 2009
Subject: Re: you couldn't even say hi to me?

I sent you an email earlier, but you did not reply! So are you playing hard to get already? Here is a free tip for you: You should play hard to get after we meet, not before we meet.

Now, am I the only one that smells a somewhat tainted casserole of harrowing desperation and acute neediness here?

I think not, and PLFM quickly realized the opportunity to one up passiveaggressivenotes.com in this particular subject area.

Because, seriously folks, this shit is our bread and butter.

We've received stacks of bizarre and borderline psychotic first responses to dating profiles here at PLFM, and today we're going to share some of these juicy steaks of desperation.

First up, PLFM recently received a letter from Katie, who was having a hard time keeping up with all the responses she was receiving on a popular dating site.

One assclam in particular kept sending Katie creepy messages. She checked out his profile, and found him not only unattractive, but completely devoid of any similar interests.

She ignored his ensuing messages, choosing rather to focus on the respondents she found attractive and interesting.

Undeterred by her lack of interest, the creepy assclam then sent Katie this gem of an email.

Take it away, moron.

R U FAKE?

I think you are fake, so Fuck You Guy running this profile, Or girl hired to
pose to get more traffic and interest in this site, Fuck you no backbone dirt bag.

If you're genuine and just ignoring me, sorry about that...

I am new to this online dating, but I am a quick study. And what I've realized is most of the hottest girls on here have a personality profile only a guy could dream of, and better quality pics too.

What else have I realized?...most of the girls on here that are real are girls that guys kinda don't really want to date, that's why they are on here. (yeah I know, why am I on here...um, circumstance I guess, not a lot of opportunities to meet people right now not having a job other than working for my dad part time)

If you are real and have been ignoring me just because you don't like me or my looks, then you probably think that I think you're fake because If you're real it would hurt my ego. You're not correct if that's what you think... I'm just as in demand as you are.

If you are not a phony then what I think is that I am a bit upset and saddend that you won't even message me for a chat, nothing at all expected, at all, just a chat. But, since I now strongly suspect you are fake, then if you message me you could just be some dude or a girl hired by okcupid. I don't know how I could solve this problem.

If okcupid is hiring girls to pose, i'd love to take them down over it. I'm not sure how. By the way, if u r real, you know, there actually are plenty of fake profiles of girls, with out a doubt. So, I'm not crazy for thinking you are a phony.

In conclusion...drum roll...

If you are fake:

FUCK YOU ASS HOLE FAKE PHONY FOR SETTING UP THIS PROFILE, DON'T YOU HAVE ANYTHING BETTER TO DO WITH YOUR TIME LOSER, IF YOU WANT TO LEARN ABOUT PEOPLE. GO OUTSIDE AND SAY HELLO, THEY DON'T BITE, FUCKER. DO NOT MESSAGE ME IF YOU ARE FAKE!! (unless to apologize and say u r deleting the account)

or

If you are real:

Hey, tottaly ignore that F U stuff, it's not intended for you. I hope you find success. I hope you don't dwell on how your differences. I hope you learn and grow in life. And message me if you want.

Peace out"

Why is the 1981 Styx song "Too Much Time On My Hands" suddenly blaring through the speakers in my brain?

Damn you, Styx. Damn you all to hell.

Katie needlessly adds: "I did not write him back."

Now, if that particular letter is a case study in how not to respond to a personal ad, the following guy wrote the goddamn book.

Olivia recently posted a personal ad on another popular dating site, and says she was receiving upwards of 10 responses a day. One particular gentleman found Olivia quite to his liking, and contacted Olivia with this nauseating opener:

Email #1

Hey there cutie! You need to check out my profile I think you will like what you see. Take a look at my pics and write me back with any questions you have about me. I'm sure you will have plenty :) look forward to meeting you soon. Eric

Out of morbid curiosity, Olivia checked out his profile and found the exact kind of pictures one might expect from a jackass who would author such an asinine email: One profile view of himself wearing cheap sunglasses and kissing his tattooed bicep, followed by a cellphone photo of himself standing naked in front of the bathroom mirror draped in a small hotel towel.

Oh, sorry, a small towel and his sunglasses.

Olivia writes "Not only did his ridiculous email turn me off, but he was 37 years old and wearing cheap sunglasses in a brightly lit bathroom? Please!"

Please indeed.

Olivia ignored the ignoramous, which, of course, sparked Eric to write again.

Email #2

I saw you checked out my profile :) What did you think? I'm awaiting your reply. I have many girls contacting me so you better hurry up :) Seriously, I would like to talk with you! Eric

Olivia ignored him again.

Done? Nope.

Email #3

Not to be rude, but when someone shows interest in you on here you should at least be polite and make a commentary on my profile. I can have my pick of all the women on here but I am only interested in you. Please show me you are not one of the stuck up bithes on here!

I expect a response from you by this weekend or i am going to talk to other women on here. You have your opportunity now and you should take it. I look forward to hearing from you soon. Eric

Olivia caught this last message on her way out of town, and didn't have an opportunity to check back onto her dating profile for three days.

When she logged back on, she found the following emails:

Email #4

Looks like your just another stuck up bitch on here like all the rest. If you think you are too good for me well let me tell you something litle girl. I have dated many girls better looking then you I just liked your profile and thougt we were a good match. I used to date XXXXXX XXXXXXX who has been in Playboy and in many other magazines.

I guess you lose out this time and I advise you to not pass up good oportunties in life when they are offered to you. Goodbye and good luck to you. Eric.

Email #5 (15 minutes later)

Also let me tell you some of the things about me that I don't put in my XXXXXXXX profile. I have two $80000 Porshe 911 and made over 5 milion dollars last year. I own real estate company you have probably heard of it but why should I tell you know?

Plus I have a 9 inch d**ck.

Yes, folks, because most Porsche owners have no idea how to spell the name of their prized vehicles.

And as far as I know, men with 9-inch penises aren't legally permitted to own a Porsche anyway. If you enjoy a man with a 9-inch penis, take a peek inside the next Ford Tempo to cross your path.

Email #6 (30 minutes later)

If you change your mind Ill maybe give you another chance. I rarly do this so you have three days to respond. Eric

Email #7 (Next day)

Please disregard the note I sent you last night. I had a fight with my ex and I was a drunk and I apologize to what I might have said. Please do not report me to XXXXXXXXX. I would aprecaite your kindness and understanding on this matter and I will not contact you again. Good luck to you. Eric.

Olivia blocked Eric immediately, and sent his lovely repertoire of delicious emails to the online dating service provider.

They were not amused.

"As far as I know, he was kicked off the site because his profile no longer exists," writes Olivia.

Lastly, Cherie writes in with a personal ad response she recently found in her inbox.

Now, we can't exactly classify this response as psychotic, but we're going to file it under "Just a Little Bit Too Much Information."

You almost just want to pick this little feller up and kiss him on his butt.

Or, perhaps, just vomit violently.

You be the judge.

The floor is yours, Mr. Pontificating Spiritual Romantic ...

Dear XXXXXXX,

Im so tired of waiting for love to knock on my door. I want true love in my life, someone taht i can talk to all night about anytthing. someone that if i was a party and there was like 100,000 people there but only one i really do she is my love.

I have thought i did find my love but she didn't loved me back. I was enaged and soo happy but after she found out she was preg, it alll went down from there. I have tired and tried to work it out but it really over. I could never love her again. she broke my heART and did me wrong so bad. all i ever wanted is to be there for my baby when it gets here but she blows me off like im nothing,, so im going to be the best father to our child.

I know this really sounds cheesey but I want the notebook love, the sleepless in seattle love, the lake house love. I knoe i might never find taht kind of love but it would be nice if i did.

Well ill tell you a little about myself, im 21 and im common guy livin a common life, i have 3 dogs, 2 cats and 2 chinchillas. I love to sit under the stars next to a campfire, loove to cuddle when its cold, taking bubble baths. I like taking walks under the moo light, I like to find someone taht just want to find the same things as me.

I am a family man and i would go through thick and thin for the people i love. I love my parents till death, but at the same time i live my own life.Parents will always be parents, they will always sheild you from dangerous paths.I believe the way to live, to be a adult, is step out from the sheild, and face the terror in your life. TO all parents, let go!!! and let your child to become there own person.Your not letting go of your parents but gaining knowledge.

Parnts are you roots but in time you in to grow and make your own leaves.

Cherie's response?

"I don't even like The Notebook."

Nor do we Cherie, nor do we.

So concludes our first peek into the bizarre personal ad responses received and sent in by PLFM readers.

If you guys enjoyed this series of ridiculous missives, please let PLFM know in the comments. If we get enough positive feedback, we'll make "How Not to Respond to a Personal Ad" a regular feature here on PLFM. And believe me, we get plenty of material.

Also, please feel free to post any outlandish or psychotic responses you've received from your own personal ads.

Or better yet, the worst date you've had so far from a dating site.

I love that shit.

How To Suck at Sucking Up

2009-06-16T03:18:00.000-07:00

Kelly spends a considerable amount of her free time running an animal rescue program in her home state of Arkansas.

Now, as we all know, people who run animal rescue programs spend an inordinate amount of time caring for and nurturing sick and injured animals, which says quite a bit about them.

They are, as a whole, an extraordinarily compassionate and nurturing set of individuals.

But who takes care of the people who run animal rescue programs? Who returns the volumes of deep love and affection they so freely dole out to injured animals?

Certainly not the animals. Believe me, I've seen animal rescue shows about ducks, and seriously, what a bunch of hoity toity fucking assholes those birds are. You try to mend a broken wing, and they act like you're trying to install a car bomb.

Kelly recently realized she deserved to feel a little of that love and affection coming in her direction, preferably from another compassionate, caring human being. She signed up on Match.com in hopes of meeting a nice man in her area, and lo and behold she found an interesting gentleman named John.

Kelly really enjoyed John's profile, and the two began regularly chatting online. Kelly found John quite attractive, and, according to his profile, he was exactly what she was looking for physically. He was "athletic and toned," and had beautiful, deep blue eyes.

Sultry, smoky blue eyes in fact, a pair of eyes in which she couldn't wait to take a dirty little skinny-dip.

"Through those eyes," Kelly thought, "I will see into John's soul."

Unfortunately, the more appropriate word would have been "sole," because once they met, Kelly found John's personality to match that of the quite unpopular, bland, bottom-feeding Ohio river fish.

Kelly had decided to meet John on her one-hour lunch break in case things didn't pan out, and right away those concerns came to fruition.

John arrived late in a wrinkled, dirty pair of jeans, which nicely complimented his soiled, slept-in T-shirt with saturated pit stains. He was athletic and toned in the way one might describe a sperm whale as "athletic and toned." His hair practically dripped with grease, and was styled in a manner that suggested a recent lightning strike.

Great, Kelly thought, I've just agreed to have lunch with a perspiring harp seal fresh from his mid-day nap in the Minit-Lube transmission pit.

Kelly stood up and walked over to greet John with a handshake, but John wasn't having any of that hand-shaking nonsense. He promptly enveloped Kelly in an uncomfortable bear hug, then released her only to place his arm tightly around her waist. He then pulled her close to his body as they walked back to their table, inspiring Kelly to pencil in "Clorox" on her grocery list.

In her letter, Kelly aptly described her first impression of John as follows:

"***shudder***"

Feel free to interpret that as a noun, verb, or adjective.

Kelly and John sat down to eat, and John creepily stared directly into Kelly's eyes throughout lunch. John told Kelly he had recently moved down to Arkansas from the Washington D.C. area, and then proceeded to inform Kelly that Southerners like her obviously had problems pronouncing words correctly because of that irritating Southern drawl they all used. When John later told Kelly the name of the town he had moved to, he pronounced it incorrectly. Kelly suggested the correct pronunciation, to which he replied "That's how your people down here pronounce it. That doesn't make it right."

Yeah, Arkansas, why you always gotta be so arrogant and shit!

The sputtering conversation then turned to Kelly's animal rescue program. Proud of her work, Kelly went into great detail about her job in hopes that she could keep the conversation somewhat interesting for the remainder of lunch. But John promptly stifled those efforts by criticizing the manner in which Kelly performed her job. "How on earth do you have the time to properly socialize those animals? You should really consider finding them homes."

Nice serve, John.

At this point, barely 30 minutes into the date, Kelly officially pronounced their one-hour lunch over. She gathered her things and began to walk back to her car with John in tow close behind. Upon arrival at her car, John forcefully grabbed Kelly and tried to plant a kiss on her lips. "I always kiss a girl on the first date," he said, "and it doesn't have to be on the lips."

Kelly used her snake impersonation skills to slither out of John's boa-like grasp, responding "What the hell? I just met you!"

With that, Kelly jumped into her car, slammed the door and locked it, and took off at what I surmise was a rather high rate of speed. Questions remain as to whether indeed there was a trail of smoke coming out of Kelly's ass.

Surprisingly, Kelly received the following email from John the very next morning:

Kelly,

It was a fairly good first meeting. I just could not resist the cuteness.

I also thought much of your conversation. Not only for its own sake, but in spite of how nervous you must have been, you struck me as very bright.

I confess to being surprised by the number of pets. Mostly because a very close friend of mine is currently living with a woman who has lots of dogs and cats. They were a large part of the reason I'm living here instead of rooming with him in Fayetteville. Not so much because of their number as that one large dog ate electronics, and none of them were properly trained. Being fair, they also lived in a small cookie-cutter house with a tiny yard.

I hope you enjoyed yourself enough to wish to see me again. I would definitely be happy to spend more time with you. Please call me at xxx-xxx-xxxx

Hmmm.

Did John attend the same lunch date as Kelly?

Did he then actually just confess to her he really doesn't like animals, followed by asking her out for a second date?

Personally, if I was trying for a second date with a florist, I probably wouldn't start out by saying "You know, I really fucking hate flowers, but hey, you wanna go out again?"

Nonplussed, Kelly responded in a courteous and truthful manner.

"John, to be blunt, I did not feel a connection. Good luck in the future. Bye."

Take that, John-Boy.

Luckily, John had all sorts of dates lined up anyway. Or, so he claims in his follow-up email:

Kelly,

No offense taken there, stranger.

I have no idea what you expected from a short lunch. I am led to believe that first meetings like that are generally just to see if product is as advertised.

Anyway, I won't contact you again, but neither will I block you. Please wait a while to get back to me since I have other women to meet with and some job interviews besides.

John

Boy, Kelly sure was upset to find out she had to "wait a while" to "get back to" John. What exactly was she supposed to get back to him about again?

So anyway, looks like Kelly successfully extracted herself from John! He's not going to contact her again!

Unless of course .... oh, shit ... what's the name of this stupid fucking blog?

Dammit.

You knew it was coming.

You see, it seems John liked Kelly a little more than he cares to admit.

So just to let Kelly know exactly what she was missing, John decided to send a follow-up email to his last follow-up email, the one that ended with "I won't contact you again."

Now seriously folks, I know PLFM readers like the blood and guts and all, but as the author of this blog, I have to admit this is out and out one of the stupidest emails I have seen to date.

See if you can spot his sudden reversal on his attitude towards animals. I'll give you a hint: It's somewhere in the middle.

Take it away, John.

Kelly,

On reflection, there was no connection to be made and it was in part my fault.

Fearing messing things up, I decided to play conservative and presented you with a shell personality, bland, simple and I thought just enough to get to date 2.

In reality, you probably wanted to see the me that hid the little red foster dog from people coming to see him and his sisters so he could stay with us.

Or who ran back to Corgill a year ago while staying at a friend's apartment for job interviews with an orange kitten with an eye infection.

That, or maybe the me that left a party about 6 months to take a stray kitten to the emergency vet because it was obviously sick and had come to me, then stayed with it and made sure it at least had warmth, food and love before it was put to sleep because it could not be saved.

You might even have wanted the John who believes in silly notions of honor and obligation and never turns away the helpless who seek him.

I am sorry for playing a character.

Were I not, as shy as I am, upon seeing you, and how-- well, not like something in this world. Brighter, or like something pushed out from the background. I probably would have locked up again.

I don't think this will change your mind. In fact, had I any belief I will ever deal with you again, I probably would never have told you these things. This time, I mean it that I will not contact you again. I'll remove all ability to do so presently.

John

Wow, you scored a job interview with an eye-infected kitten?

Anyway, congratulations John.

You just successfully shoved your nose so far up Kelly's ass you could probably gnaw her collarbones.

Like my mother used to tell me, nothing makes a woman hotter than shameless and pathetic pandering to the same interests of hers you once insulted.

Oh, and Kelly wanted to point out one more thing.

Those beautiful, deep blue eyes that so attracted her to John in the first place?

Yeah, those were contacts.

Let me guess, his real eye color was ..... brown?

Great to be back folks, I might be able to squeeze in another post this week as I've got several good letters in the hopper.

(Note to Kelly: See? Not one Arkansas joke. You owe me five dollars.)

Customer Disservice

2009-05-27T02:55:00.000-07:00

Every woman who's ever held any type of service or sales job knows about one of the major inherent hazards associated with their chosen profession.

Namely, the unavoidable encounters with creepy fucking dudes.

Fortunately, most men today possess enough intelligence to realize women employed in the sales / service industry act in a pleasant manner simply because everyone in that type of postion has to in order to make a living.

Because that's their fucking job.

They would like you to buy something.

They would like to earn a nice tip.

They represent the face of their employer.

But then you have the skeevy, lecherous, bottom-dwelling jackasses who simply don't understand this phenomenon.

The instant you smile or make prolonged eye contact with one of these pathetic assclowns in your working environment, they are absolutely convinced, for whatever reason, that you are somehow in love with them.

That your smile somehow reveals a crush. Or the way you stood next to him when you tried to sell him that new cellphone obviously meant you wanted to fuck him. Or because the real estate agent took that extra time to show a bedroom, she of course was implying that she wanted to have sex with him in that bedroom.

I'll give you another example.

I used to work in a scummy industry, and my boss epitomized the rancid, fecal crust that rose to the top of his trade. We'll call him Lee.

Lee would prostitute his own mother if he could figure out a way to get three dollars out of it. He easily made mid-six figures a year, but he was so cheap he wore the same ratty, wrinkled, off-white oxford shirt with yellow pit stains on it every day for weeks on end.

He never tipped at restaurants, but always provided female waitresses with his signature punchline: "If you're wondering where your tip is, it's in the price of the food."

And then he'd smile at her, waiting for her to smile back, because he thought his little punchline was pretty cute. Then, as promised, he'd leave her nothing.

He was morbidly obese, and he also regularly paid some back-alley bodychopper to plug dead horsehair into his forehead until his hairline looked like something you might use to scrape lichen off a barn.

So at some point, Lee began mouthing off about a certain barista that "kept hitting on him." When I was offered the opportunity to help him pick up a large order, I decided to go along to see what kind of near-blind, socially inept female buffoon worked at this coffee stand.

She was a beautiful, but very shy, girl in her early 20's.

And she was fucking terrified of Lee. I could see it in her eyes.

But she smiled nervously as Lee kept telling her she had "luscious legs" or "lovely breasts," simply because she needed to keep her job. She was too afraid to tell Lee to go fuck himself.

"Didn't you see the way she smiles at me?" he asked after we left.

Two weeks later, the owner banned Lee from the coffee shop.

Go figure.

And all Lee could talk about at work was how that manager had totally ruined his chances of fucking this hot teenage chick that was "totally into him."

"I'll find her," he'd say, "and I bet you she'll be blowing me within 5 minutes."

You're absolutely right, Lee. Because beautiful 20 year-old college girls always fall for fat, cheap, balding 50 year-old fuckstains who wear the same shirt for 14 days in a row.

You ignorant ass.

Kate writes in to PLFM with a similar story, but in her case, her "client" stepped over the line when he started contacting Kate at home.

Kate works at a small biotech lab located on the campus of her local university. Kate's company specializes in DNA sequencing and bacteria analysis for a number of other local labs.

Kate had a longtime client named Rick who frequently came in to Kate's lab to drop off samples for his company. She was always friendly with Rick, simply because part of her job entailed maintaining profitable relationships with her roster of clients.

But off the record, Kate wasn't fond of Rick. He tended to act like a braying ass when any opportunity to do so presented itself.

Kate explains:

"He's the type of guy who always wants to be the "white knight," riding in and saving the damsel in distress. He once offered to go an beat up the mechanic of a co-worker of his when they, in Rick's view, overcharged her for car repairs."

We all know exactly what you're talking about Kate.

He's the macho, small-cocked blowhard keen on making empty threats of physical violence towards others to "impress" and "protect" the ladies.

Let's all yawn as a group, shall we?

Kate knew Rick had a wife and two kids, and Rick knew that Kate had a long-term live-in boyfriend with whom she had a son and shared a farm.

But at some point, these factors suddenly became irrelevant to Rick.

Rick began stopping by Kate's office every time he came into her company's headquarters. He'd sit around and hit on Kate, and Kate was cordial at best simply because she had to be. Kate also noticed that Rick began to remove his wedding ring as he entered her office.

Rick's efforts got him nowhere however, so he began asking Kate out to lunch.

He'd ask her on Monday, and she would politely say "no." He'd ask her out on Tuesday, and she'd politely say "no" again.

Utilizing the "Can I have a cookie?" process employed by cunning six year-olds worldwide, Rick continued asking Kate out to lunch, figuring Kate would eventually crack under the pressure and agree to have lunch with him.

No dice.

Kate stood her ground.

Rick then reached deep into his arsenal of tired seduction tricks and found the "backrub routine" sandwiched between his fake Ferrari key and his "I'm a movie producer" line.

Kate's desk faced away from her door, so she never saw Rick coming until his hands were already massaging her shoulders. Completely disgusted, Kate organized an office-wide threat-level program whereby all of the other employees began alerting Kate the minute Rick walked in the door.

When the system failed, she finally took her issues with Rick to the boss.

The boss had to have a private and direct conversation with Rick, instructing him to not make any further attempts to date or harass the employees of his company, and by "employees" he specifically meant "Kate."

A few weeks later, Kate was sitting at home at 9 PM on a Wednesday night when her phone rang.

It was Rick.

Somehow, he had located Kate's home phone number. She does not know how.

Rick wanted to know if Kate would like to meet up with him "for coffee" later that night. And by "coffee," he meant "sexual intercourse." On a Wednesday. At 9 PM. And he lived over an hour away from Kate.

Kate had had enough at this point. She lost her cordial attitude, and gave Rick a fucking earful, saying in as many words .....

"Do not EVER fucking call me at home, Rick. Do not ever contact me again outside of work. Ever!"

Now, as a common, puny, and worthless man, even I would get the hint at this point that, hmmm, maybe this Kate girl doesn't have any interest in me?

Let's look at the evidence.

1. Rick hits on Kate, and she routinely shows no interest.

2. Rick asks Kate out to lunch repeatedly, and she refuses every time.

3. She practically pukes when he tries to give her shoulder massages.

4. Her boss intervenes and instructs Rick to have no further contact with Kate.

5. He ignores that advice, and violates her privacy by somehow acquiring her home phone number.

6. He calls her at home, where she lives with her boyfriend and son, to ask her out for coffee.

7. She tells him in no uncertain terms to go fuck himself.

You think maybe Rick would get the hint?

Well, he wouldn't be on PLFM if he did.

Kate went back to work the next day only to find the following email in her inbox.

From Rick, of course.

Take it away, Romeo.

Hello cutie,

I know you told me not to contact you outside of work, so I'm sending this to your work address. That makes it work related, right? :)

If you haven't guessed by now, I really dig you. The highlight of my week is droping off DNA to your lab, and I would love to make a more direct deposit.

I would treat you like a queen. My wife would never know. We're on the rocks anyway. I'm only staying with her because of the girls. She doesn't satisfy me in bed, the way I know you would with your tight little body.

You figure into my dreams nightly. It's the only satisfaction I get these days.

Let me know when you want to spend a night or more in heaven.

Rick.

What Rick didn't know is that by emailing Kate, he also emailed the entire lab, so everyone got a gander at Rick's final overtures to Kate.

And I say "final" because this is the exact same email Kate used against Rick to obtain a restraining order. If Rick decides to ask Kate out to lunch again, he will now have to yell his question from a distance of at least 1000 feet.

Now, this story may not involve knives to the throat, death threats, or the well-barbequed kittens my readers have developed such a fine taste for.

But I printed this story for a reason.

The weekend prior, this exact topic came up amongst a large group of my female friends twice. And each time, the women were falling all over themselves with horrible stories of dealing with deviant, sometimes psychotic, and often stalkerish behavior from clients and / or customers.

Represented were waitresses, bartenders, real estate agents, saleswomen, baristas, and advertising executives.

PLFM wants to hear YOUR story in the comments, because we know you have them.

Reader Survey

2009-05-27T00:41:00.000-07:00

Alright guys, we have a very important question to throw at you today.

PLFM now receives nearly 75 "Letters From Men" submissions a week. Unfortunately, about 90% of the stories I receive do NOT have letters, texts or emails included. It is simply stories submitted by women relating their experiences with stalkers. And some of them are horrifying.

Would you guys like to drop the written correspondence requirement for PLFM?

In other words, do you guys just want to hear stalker stories, or would you prefer PLFM stick to our namesake and require at least some written material from the stalker / psycho?

Let me know. I could care less either way, I just want you guys to keep coming back to PLFM! Please comment.

-The Weasel

Game Stalker

2009-05-19T00:30:00.000-07:00

"I think every woman who sends these to you realizes how stupid they were and, hopefully, learns from their mistakes." - Nicole

Nicole acknowledges right off the bat that most people might consider her a "bit of a nerd".

Rather than spending her evenings drinking herself comatose at nightclubs or rotting away her cerebral cortex in front of network television programming, Nicole admits she fell in love with the online gaming community at a rather young age.

While Nicole feels online gaming established her presence in the nerd community, her participation in LARPing events cemented it.

LARP stands for Live Action Role Play, and describes an event where online gaming enthusiasts congregate in a remote forest to dress up in elaborate period costumes and re-enact their most recent online battles. If you're looking for people who utilize wizardry and swordplay, LARPing events are fantastic. If you're looking for people who utilize deodorant and condoms, try Rite-Aid.

Nicole met a nice young man named Brian at one of these LARPing events two years ago. Nicole knew Brian from high school, and always thought he had been a pretty cool guy. Brian had a very charming sense of humor, and they shared quite a few similar interests aside from LARPing and online gaming.

Needless to say, they soon found themselves playing with each other's joysticks. Nicole and Brian began dating, and all seemed blissful in the real world.

At least for a minute or two.

Brian's personality suddenly began to change right after they committed to one another. Brian began showing little signs of a "controlling" personality. He would frequently "break up" with Nicole when he didn't get his way, but would always call her two days later blubbering like baby because he missed her so much.

Nicole was lonely so she proceeded cautiously, realizing Brian's caustic behavior and lack of employment could possibly indicate a sign of bad things to come.

Meanwhile, the rest of Nicole's personal life fell apart. The last of her old high school friends had finally left town, and she was living at home while ensconced in a very tumultuous relationship with her mother. Nicole was anxious to leave town as well, until Nicole's father suddenly passed away.

At his point, Nicole felt Brian was the only "rock" she had left in her life. When Nicole received an unexpected inheritance from her father, the unemployed Brian suddenly came up with a brilliant idea to help Nicole get away from her mother.

Nicole should use the inheritance money to pay for an apartment for her and Brian!

That way Nicole could get away from her mother, and Brian would have a place to, you know, like, live and stuff.

Great idea, Brian.

Glad you thought of it.

You ass.

Nicole was hesitant to move in with the possessive Brian, but at the time she felt she had very few other options. She had no friends left in town, no family to turn to, and a job she wanted to keep. She finally agreed to sign a lease for a new apartment, on the condition that Brian get a job. Brian agreed, and Nicole was relieved.

Then, in a completely shocking turn of events, Brian didn't get a job.

He looked everywhere for work, including the bottom of beer cans, the inside of empty potato chip packages, and the interior of Nicole's reproductive system, which soon banned him from the premises.

But it's not like Brian didn't do anything. In fact, he kept himself quite busy.

He spent countless hours reminding Nicole of her faults, insulting her hobbies, and following her around the apartment to remind her just how lucky she was to have Brian in her life.

Nicole felt trapped in her own apartment. When she tried to break up with Brian, Brian would scream at her and refuse to leave her side until she relented and agreed to stay with him. If she tried to leave the apartment, Brian would follow her outside and stand in front of her car.

Two words, Nicole: Gas pedal.

Despite Nicole paying all the rent and all the bills, Brian then informed Nicole that his old friend John would be coming to live in the apartment for a month. Nicole bit her tongue, but I tell you, she was absolutely furious!

Until of course the very handsome John showed up, at which point she released her tongue, which proceeded to roll down the front steps and into the driveway, revealing the words "Welcome John!"

John was in the Navy and stationed in Hawaii, but had decided to come home to Illinois on his month off to catch up with friends. He was extremely attractive, intelligent, funny and very successful. And unlike Brian, John took a sincere interest in Nicole's hobbies.

Brian finally did get a job, so John would drop Brian off at work in the morning and spend the day with Nicole. He took her to the park and to the zoo, and they spent countless hours talking about the things Nicole enjoyed talking about. He was kind, supportive and understanding, and even helped Nicole run her errands, something Brian never did.

It didn't take too long for Brian to smell something foul, and this time it wasn't his boxers.

Suspecting something was up, Brian told John to find a hotel. But Nicole had noticed something interesting about Brian and John. Namely, Brian felt threatened by John, and would never stand up to him. So when Brian threw John out of the house, Nicole left with John. Touche!

At the hotel, Nicole confessed to John that she needed help getting away from Brian. John agreed to help, and stood by Nicole as she called Brian and dumped his bitch ass over the phone. Brian threatened Nicole, so Nicole had a police escort meet her at her apartment to gather her things.

John eventually left, and Brian had his ass thrown into the street.

With John gone, Brian began to up the ante. Now out on his own, he continually harassed Nicole with texts and phone phone calls asking her if they could just "be friends." Nicole relented a few times, but Brian would immediately begin insulting her and telling her how worthless she was.

Nicole eventually cut off all contact, which, as we all know here at PLFM, is just throwing fuel on the fire. Brian began showing up at Nicole's home and her job, and soon enough Nicole had to be escorted to her car every night after work.

Meanwhile, John confessed his feelings for Nicole and bought her a plane ticket to fly up to Seattle to meet him for her birthday. Nicole couldn't have been happier, until Brian hacked her email account and found out about their little rendezvous.

Suddenly, all her online accounts disappeared. Her MySpace, her World of Warcraft and her blogs all mysteriously vanished. On the morning of her flight to Seattle, she came out to find the tires on her car flattened.

Nicole made her flight to Seattle, where she spent several blissful days with John. Blissful only because they both had turned their phones off, which rang continuously for the entire duration of their trip with calls and texts from Brian.

Once home, Nicole found an email in her inbox from Brian. Remember, at this point, neither John nor Nicole want anything to do with Brian at all.

Yet, Brian can't seem to understand why they won't let him "help" them. Hmmmm.

Hit it, Brian!

72 hours.

For 72 hours I sat and waited hoping to talk to you both about our future.

168 hours I waited and avoided calling...giving proof this wasn’t an attention issue. And For 72 hours since that point I have tried nothing but to simply discuss our futures with you both.

I’m through trying to address this and be patient for a bunch of lying cowards. Ask yourselves what are you afraid of?

John, you always wanted any girl my dick got hard near. And Nicole I knew from day one I wouldn’t be able to keep you with so many ‘friends’ who were boys. In reality the only reason I became your boyfriend is cause I could touch you.

You both are pretty fucked in the heads either mentally, socially or even spiritually. This stupid childish game you were playing with me is over. Your entire relationship is based on a physical desire and ease of money. (Ed note: God Forbid!)

So I’m going to laugh in a few years when I hear about or run into one of you two knowing what the future already plans for you. Neither one of you are going to have any friends besides one another … and that is all it will take to know this will crumble to ash.

So by all means continue your little game, you won’t hear me call even one more single time not even in an emergency not even in a crisis. Nor will I answer you calls. Your both heartless, soulless people and in the end you brought this on yourselves. Well sucks to be you guys...

Goodbye and good riddance.

Good luck in life, though I seriously hope you both crash, burn, fail and never recover.

Thank God!

They won't ever hear from Brian again. Ever!

Unfortunately, in Brian's world, "forever" meant somewhere between 5 and 7 minutes.

A barrage of texts and phone calls from Brian ensued as soon as Nicole got home.

Nicole went to the courthouse and requested an immediate restraining order against Brian.

Nicole went in front of the judge two weeks later with Brian to extend the restraining order, lugging with her a mountain of evidence against Brian. Brian was "the hapless victim," he told the judge.

Nicole:

He hacked my email accounts.

Brian:

No, I didn't!

Which, fortunately, kind of contradicted the email Brian had sent Nicole:

I am sorry to hack your accounts but the subject matter there was totally inappropriate.

What part of John's pictures in your Myspace do you think harmless? Maybe the post where you thought i drained your tire (I didn't by the way) Or maybe John's discussion (again in public) about how he wasn't regretting a thing?

In essence the only way to understand you since you returned was to look at those blogs and pictures... I would of waited longer for certain and swallowed my pride for a 3rd time till i saw those. It might not of been fair to you but it was fair to us (you & me). At least everything you lost is recoverable, I can't say the same myself.

The point of your blogs was to vent about me and like always keeping private matters public with your friends. So I just returned that tactic with our friends and gave them my story.

I really wished you both had been mature enough to see what your actions were doing to the entire circle of friends we had. I wish even now I could 'hate' you both for what you did instead I have to give you the reasons to hate 'me'. which is close enough I guess.

Oh, and just so you know... I did cry even hacking your account. I know you want to be loved for who you are, but Nicole; theirs so much more to yourself you could improve and be that much of a better 'you' for it.

Boy, did the judge enjoy that irony!

First Brian says he didn't hack into her accounts, then Nicole produces an email where Brian apologizes for ... hacking into her accounts. Why, it was almost like Brian was lying to the judge or something.

The judge was so amused, he slapped a one year restraining order on Brian's ass and warned him under no uncertain terms that if he ever contacted Nicole again, he would go directly to jail.

Thank God, this case is finally over.

Oh, sorry.

This case isn't over.

Brian began harassing Nicole online through World of Warcraft events. He would create different online screen names and pour his heart out to Nicole, begging to have her come back. Nicole called the police, who came to her home and explained that they couldn't prove it was actually Brian making contact with Nicole through the computer.

But they could prove it was Brian if Brian had done something as stupid as call Nicole on her cellphone. And, as if on cue, Brian called her cellphone. The police officer answered the phone and Brian hung up. After the police officer left, Brian called Nicole's cellphone again, and left a message asking Nicole if she had seen his messages online.

Nicole turned the message over to her local police department, but for whatever reason, the police didn't act on Brian's violation of the restraining order.

Which brings us full circle to the present, where we find John and Nicole living happily together in Hawaii.

But Brian is not through with either of them.

He continues to harass Nicole online, whilst simultaneously sending letters of "apology" to John, in which he asks John to speak to Nicole for him.

Brian is also leaving voicemails on Nicole's cellphone in Hawaii.

And just so you know, Brian, recordings of those messages are currently on the way to the police station in your hometown.

Make sure you answer your door.

You'll learn someday.

The Pest

2009-05-11T17:36:00.000-07:00

We've had a tough couple weeks here at PLFM, haven't we?

We've showcased some absolutely insane stalkers, a few creepy lurkers, and a pathologically obsessed bodybuilder who tried to woo his ex-girlfriend back by documenting his recent accomplishments in the transportation of hay, stones, and other farm products.

So today, PLFM has decided to offer up some lighter fare; a zesty appetizer of assclown if you will, sprinkled with the pungent odor of desperation. A long simmering dish of cluelessness, now served directly into the face of the chef.

This is the tale of one of those guys.

The guy from your distant past that just never gives up on you, no matter how many times you express your complete indifference to his proposals.

He's a Hare Krishna camping next to your vagina, yet knocking on your door every morning just to remind you he's still camping on your lawn, just in case you change your mind.

Simply put, he's The Pest.

Lets fumigate our crotches, shall we?

Lea moved from rural Oregon to Southern California when she was 12 years of age. Once Lea arrived in her new neighborhood, she decided to make as many friends as possible to ease her transition into the Southern California lifestyle.

Lea first befriended a boy up the street named Matt. Matt seemed a little socially awkward, but he had a great collection of video games to play with, and a very nice swimming pool to lazily waste away the hot summer afternoons.

Even at 12, Lea realized Matt had a controlling and bossy personality. In fact, Matt was hellbent on teaching Lea about the two most important things in life.

First, Lea needed to accept Jesus Christ as her Lord and Saviour. Only Jesus could lead Lea to happiness, and only by following His word would Lea would be accepted into Heaven. Lea needed to be saved, and Matt would willingly assist Lea in accepting Jesus Christ.

Secondly, Lea needed give Matt a blowjob.

Proving once again that you can never beat the creamy combination of religious fervor and sloppy blowjobs. It's the peanut butter and chocolate of the religious right.

Lea found it odd that the path to Jesus Christ traveled directly through the kittenish and marble-smooth testicles of a 12 year-old boy in San Diego, California. Not convinced, Lea instead agreed to a committed relationship with Matt, which of course at 12 years-old lasts about as long as pudding on a stick.

Matt told Lea they had to french kiss in the pool to christen their new romance. Lea tried, and nearly choked to death after swallowing a large amount of chlorinated pool water.

Disgusted, Lea broke up with Matt and stormed off into the sunset completely disgusted at the sudden collapse of their relationship, totally frustrated at the sexual imbalances already creating havoc in her life, and longing for someone to replace the most magnificent relationship she had ever experienced in her 12 years of life. How could she possibly ever forget her deep and lasting love for Matthew?

Three minutes later she saw a frog and completely forgot about Matthew.

Lea tried to avoid Matt from that point forward. She walked home from school a different way every day for weeks, until one day Matt caught up with her. He begged her to come back to his house, and Lea steadfastly refused. Matt persisted until Lea had finally had enough. She told Matthew that if Matt kept bugging her, Lea would get her cousin to beat Matthew up.

Matt went home and told his parents that Lea had threatened her. Matthew's parents came over to Lea's house with Matthew to talk to Lea's parents, and according to Lea, her parents "laughed Matthew's parents out of the house" in a flurry of Bible pages.

Lea didn't see much of Matthew again until high school, when Matthew took a job as a tech helper for the high school drama department, where Lea had taken an active role in producing school plays.

Now, at this point in the story, we must discuss an important discovery Lea had made in her early high school years. You see, Lea, a female, and the author of this blog, a male, have one thing very much in common. Namely, when we desire a snack, we both immediately reach for a refreshing box of Vagina Chex.

Lea is a lesbian. A term which women decipher as "I don't like the cock," and a term which men immediately decipher as "Threesome!"

Lea never hid her sexuality, nor did she promote it. She simply admitted it, which in high school is the equivalent of wearing a hardhat with a 90 foot neon sign affixed to the tip with an arrow pointing to Lea's face, saying "The girl directly underneath this hardhat is totally lesbo-tronic!" whilst a tornado siren blared Sarah McLachlan tunes from her backpack. Essentially, everyone knew Lea was a lesbian, including Matt.

After one particular play wrapped, Lea decided to throw a wrap party at her home. It was the typical high school affair; keg on the porch, music blaring throughout the night, and half-naked teens running around flaunting their tight and limber bodies, oblivious to the eventual scourge of time. Assholes.

Anyway, at one point during the party, Lea became involved in a saucy game of spin the bottle. One thing led to another, and somehow Lea ended up taking her shirt off and exposing her breasts to the entire party, causing an immediate explosion of 16 year-old male erections that was heard across 14 neighboring counties.

The hardest erection sprouted from the loins of Matthew, who suddenly had developed a very non-Christian view of the world.

Matthew simply never forgot this glorious moment in his life. It was if he had seen the coming of Jesus Christ, though I doubt Jesus was truly the one coming.

Matthew once again began to hound Lea constantly. In fact, let Lea explain how bad it got:

"For the next two years of high school he constantly worked on all the plays and asked everyone (and I mean EVERYONE) if they knew when there was going to be another one of 'Lea's cast parties'. This would be said in a nasally voice and followed up with a leer and a weird half-assed wink."

Matthew followed Lea everywhere, inquiring about her activities and, of course, the well-being of her breasts. Matt would corner Lea and demand to know when she had people over. He insisted on invitations to her get-togethers, even though Lea made it very clear that Matt creeped her the fuck out. But Matt just never got it. He talked endlessly about "that night when Lea showed her breasts," and told everybody that Lea was his "ex-girlfriend."

Which was true, for about 23 minutes 5 years earlier. But throughout the remainder of her high school years, Matt just couldn't let go of "the night." Clearly, it was the highlight of his life.

Lea was relieved to get away from Matthew when she finally graduated from high school, and eventually she forgot about him.

Until five years later.

Lea was perusing her Facebook page when she noticed she had a friend request. Lea clicked on the request, and found Matthew's shit-eating grin staring her in the face. Lea mulled it over for a while, and decided "he'd been an awkward teenage boy pimply with hormones back then. He couldn't possibly still be such a creep now."

Lea accepted Matt's friend request, and figured if there was ever any correspondence between them, he'd probably just be upfront and apologize for his foolish, stalkerish, and silly behavior when they were kids, right?

No, that annoying buzzer sound you just heard was not your oven.

Matt immediately sent Lea a Facebook email congratulating her on her 21st birthday, and offered to take her out for a drink. Lea thanked Matt, but reminded him it was actually her 22nd birthday, but sure, if she was ever back in San Diego, maybe she'd meet him for a drink. She never for a minute actually considered taking him up on it.

Which led to the following exchange via Facebook:

Matthew

hell yeah i will take u for a drink i was just getting off work but i will take u out anytime hottie.

Lea

Sorry Matt, maybe you misunderstood. I live with my girlfriend in Oakland, and I meant like a friendly hang out drink. You know I'm gay right? :)

Matthew

well... ill tell ya what... ill hook up a night where we get a group up and ill let u kno and u come down with some of ur hottie chicka friends and we will all go downtown k? maybe sometime in Aug on a Fri night. :) sound good?

Lea

Thanks Matt, we'll see. I'm not really much for the club scene, though. You have fun without me.

Matthew

ok well maybe we can hang out when u come down in august, and if u have the money i can hook u up with a car stereo from my work. :)

Strange, in that Lea never said anything about coming down in August, nor did she mention she was in the market for the latest in discounted mobile electronics.

Creeped out once again, Lea figured she'd just avoid Matthew from now on, but didn't need to be rude and actually delete him from her Facebook account.

August came and went, but a year later Lea actually did put together a trip to San Diego.

Unfortunately, she posted her intention to travel to San Diego on her Facebook page, forgetting that Matthew would be able to see it.

Matthew immediately sent Lea an email, telling her that "she owed him a drink," which was a strange reversal from his earlier request to buy her a drink. Lea didn't respond, so Matthew began to barrage Lea with emails, including a link to cheap Sea World tickets. Because even lesbians like dolphins!

"We should totally go!" he said.

"Totally not!" thought Lea.

Matthew then caught Lea off-guard one night on Facebook chat, which led to the following creepy exchange saturated with what you and I might refer to as "the willies."

Matthew

what's up? hey im starting my model photography again. thought of you and your sexy body. if ur ever wanting some photos done let me know. its not like i havent seen that body of urs. lol.

Lea

Umm...No. That's a little weird of you to ask, to be honest. Good luck with that, though.

Matthew

lol what the modeling or the modeling with me behind the camera. lol no worries, ur attractive and i thought to extend the invatation

why is it wierd ?

Lea didn't respond that night, so the next morning she woke up to this:

Matthew

common u had no problem with taking of ur top in high school

Matthew

so what is it or r u just going to ignore me ? i thought we were friends even tho i am ur ex?

"So I wrote back, incensed and creeped right the hell out," says Lea.

Lea

Hmm well, it might be one of a couple things:

a) I am all for being friendly and I wasn't going to say anything until you did this, but let's be real here; you and I are not friends by any means. I invited you to like ONE cast party in high school that EVERYONE got invited to, and you made creepy remarks for years afterward. And I am certainly not your ex. We hung out for a stressful week or so when we were 12 that wasn't fun for me at all. Or did you somehow forget that we NEVER hung out and I ignored you all through high school? If you ever even saw my 'body', you need to get over it because it was MORE THAN SIX YEARS AGO and I'm an adult now, not some dumb little drunk teenager. We should BOTH be adults by now.

b)Why would you even think I'd be into that? I had no idea you even liked photography because, once again, we ARE NOT friends. I'm not a model. And if I wanted pictures of me taken, don't you think I could probably get my GIRLFRIEND (yeah, that would be the girl I'm kissing in all of the pictures of me) or one of my friends or, god forbid, a real professional photographer who wouldn't ogle my 'sexy body' to do it? Here's a protip: real photographers don't pan facebook for their clients and then pressure them when they refuse. Find someone you actually know or maybe someone who, I don't know, LIVES there?

The point? I don't know you, you SO don't know me and it is INSANELY creepy and weird to assume I'd be okay with you offering to take pictures of my 'sexy body' just because you saw my tits like once in high school. Grow up, buy a dictionary and look up the word 'oblivious'.

"I haven't heard from him since," says Lea. "He deleted himself off of my friends list and I can only hope he maybe, somehow, some way, learned something from this interaction, even if it was just 'don't fuck with dykes'."

Well said, Lea, and congratulations for finally ridding yourself of a lifelong creeper.

Do you have a guy that's been pursuing you forever and just can't take the hint?

Put it in the comments, or even better, send it in along with all your other bizarre or psychotic correspondence to PLFM at weaselworden@yahoo.com.

"Love Story" Update

2009-05-11T14:16:00.000-07:00

I received 93 emails over the weekend regarding our Ben Ryan video posted down below.

Many people claimed to know both parties involved, and I had some difficulty in ascertaining who exactly was telling the truth and who wasn't. I very quickly realized I had become embroiled in a situation I wanted absolutely no part of.

I will keep my sources confidential, but I can tell you with utmost confidence that Loren will never offer any sort of reply to Ben's video, and rightfully so. You do the simple math and figure out what that means.

I was then contacted by "Sanchez", a regular poster on the Cracked.com message boards. Sanchez had produced a video mocking Ben's video tribute to his ex-girlfriend, and once Ben discovered the Sanchez version, Ben went absolutely fucking ballistic.

What followed was a series of completely unintelligible and insane threats and rantings from Ben directed at Sanchez. Ben accuses his critics of being "terrorists" and "Arabs" using "bio-warfare" to kill people, amongst hundreds of other ludicrous suggestions usually reserved for paranoid schizophrenics.

He has "armies of lawyers" immediately boarding planes "to take care of" all his critics, who will burn in hell for mocking Ben.

Ben also has the backing of the CIA and the FBI, just in case you were wondering.

As I told Sanchez in one of my emails, I caution the clueless little ninnies on YouTube who think this video is "cute", because they have no idea who they are dealing with.

I hope they take a moment to remember how "cute" they thought that video was when he is stabbing a screwdriver into your cat's anus because he didn't like the fucking surface temperature of his pineapple slices.

I'd sincerely like to thank Sanchez on Cracked.com for his valuable input, and if you'd like to follow his dealings with Ben, you can start right here.

You'll find over 47 pages of commentary on Ben, along with his bizarre, constant, and very mentally disturbing emails.

Be very careful, Loren.

I feel for you.

Seriously.

A Love Story? PLFM Doesn't Think So

2009-05-06T03:22:00.001-07:00

Ladies and gentleman, allow me to completely waste 8 minutes of your life.

If only you can stomach what I'm about to show you.

Either you will think this is cute, or, more likely, your vagina will dehydrate to the consistency of astronaut food.

You see, Ben Ryan used to have a girlfriend.

Two fucking years ago.

Ben's girlfriend left him for reasons "he can't understand," which means she essentially abandoned him.

Now, if Ben can't understand why she left him, then that means he likely didn't cheat on her, because unless he was a total idiot, then he would understand why she left him.

So let's rule that out.

So now, why would a woman just abandon her boyfriend if he wasn't cheating on her?

Well, he either:

a. was a complete fucking assclam.
b. was a needy little boy.

or

c. was unemployed.

Ben spent the past two years pursuing this ex-girlfriend.

She has not responded to any of his attempts at reconciliation, nor has she sought him out.

So Ben put together a little video to win her back.

Actually, it's not a little video, it's a long video, towards the end of which I had to extract my head from a hastily constructed noose hung from my chandelier.

We'll let Ben explain his video, entitled "Love Story":

“Love Story”

Genuine real life love story of one man’s journey through time as he gives his all for one chance at a dream. Entirely filmed, produced, and directed by the man you see and him alone over the course of nine months.

I believe the person I made this video for is living somewhere with her family and I truly hope they are all happy and doing well. I made this video to present on youtube because it was the only way I felt I could reach out to her to let her know how I still feel.

Everyone should fully respect her privacy and wishes because I don’t know how she views me now after all this time. We were together for two years and I don’t know why for certain she was gone. I sincerely only want her to be happy even if that means me being out of her life. She is an awesome person who deserves the very best and I just hope she is able to see this.

Got it?

Nice enough.

Now here's the video that took him nine months to produce.

If you have any tortilla chips, please prepare them now, because this video is fucking dripping with cheese.

Now, I understand the end where he says "You must always tell people you love them blah, blah, blah" ... and I totally agree.

But is an exhibition of one's four-wheeling skills set amidst various semi-nude feats of strength really how a man thinks he can win a woman back? Is that what women miss? Is it a man's well-seasoned ability to bunny-hop through tires and transport rocks? Do they miss bun-splitting slacks and weight-lifting leotards?

Well, he's well built, but he was that way when they were dating, and she still left him. It certainly won't make her come back.

And it didn't.

At the end of the video, you may have missed the pop-up, so here it is again:

"Loren has seen this though I haven't heard from her. So I truly hope she is happy and living her dreams."

My guess?

Loren would completely expect something like this from Ben, whom she has been actively avoiding for two years.

And this video is exactly why.

He's a cheesy, arrogant and dickless buffoon completely unreceptive to the real-life needs of a woman, and this video couldn't be any more symbolic of why she left him in the first place.

If he still can't understand why she left him two years ago, he either hasn't thought about it much, or more likely, doesn't think there is anything wrong with him that finely tuned set of deltoids can't cure.

It's been two years, Ben. Get over it and move on.

She knows you love her, and apparently doesn't care enough to respond.

Life isn't like "Say Anything," where if you just harass a girl enough, she'll eventually come back to you because it's cute that you care enough to stalk her. If we learn anything on PLFM, we learn that stalking isn't "cute" or "charming" in any way.

Women leave men for a reason, and that reason doesn't go away with an elegantly prepared song-and-dance number.

Sure, I might be making assumptions here, but I guarantee you I'm right.

Please agree or disagree in the comments.

In the off chance anyone out there knows or can contact Loren, please email me at weaselworden@yahoo.com. I'd love to see if she would share her side of the story.

He Just Doesn't Get It

2009-05-02T04:28:00.000-07:00

A monkey trapped in a desolate cage marvels at the sight of a shiny metallic ball placed just outside his reach.

"If I only had that ball," the monkey convinces himself, "my life would improve tremendously."

Place the ball within reach, and the monkey instantly grabs and cherishes that ball. It's new, it's shiny, and it's something different, a means to temporarily escape from the horrifying monotony of his life.

Within a couple days however, the monkey will usually discover that the ball doesn't look so fucking shiny anymore. He's run out of new ball-related distractions, and the sparkling surface has dulled from constant contact with his hands.

Now he's just a monkey trapped in a desolate cage with a stupid cloudy-ass ball.

As humans, we all experience a sense of loneliness and isolation at some point in our lives. In recent years, the internet has become our go-to method to relieve these feelings of isolation, a source for us to find our own shiny little ball.

And like the monkey, we often learn just how quickly our balls can tarnish.

Pun completely intended.

Annie's recent letter to PLFM started out like so many of the contributions I receive here at WWHM Headquarters.

"Oh, this story is so embarrassing to tell, but I was ... well, ... I was reallllly really lonely."

Annie, trying to meet new people on the internet does not make you lonely, it makes you human. Having a 10-year subscription to Cat Fancy magazine? Well, yes, that kind of makes you a lonely person.

And if you're using the internet to meet cats, then you have a serious fucking problem.

Anyway, Annie had been visiting an online forum for some time when she met a nice man named Robert.

Robert seemed to have everything she wanted in a man. He was nice, considerate and charming, and didn't spend the majority of his time online wagging his genitals to and fro like an unattended fire hose.

Annie admits she became smitten with Robert immediately. A few late night chat sessions soon morphed into something of a relationship. They chatted daily, and exchanged phone numbers so they could text each other when they were away from their computers.

After a month their relationship reached the point where they knew someone had to take the next step, but they lived halfway across the country from one another. And of course, Robert stepped up to the plate.

Annie was excited to play with her shiny new ball.

Robert made the long drive to spend five days with Annie, and Annie had a fabulous time. They walked in the park, went out to dinner, and probably visited the please-touch aquarium exhibit. Hands were held, asses were slapped, and non fruit-based juices were exchanged.

Yes, everything was just fine and fucking dandy with Annie and Robert.

Robert returned home and the online relationship continued. Robert, however, began talking about getting married, having kids, and buying a house together, which Annie thought was a little odd after only meeting each other once. It had been a great 30 days, but marriage? Kids? Mortgage? It almost sounded like Robert loved Annie, but come on, that's preposterous.

"I love you Annie," beamed Robert.

Okay, maybe not so preposterous.

A few days later Robert purchased Annie a plane ticket to come visit him for five days, and once again they had a good time together, minus the part where Robert kept bringing up all his "crazy" ex-girlfriends. At the end of the trip, Robert proposed that they become an "item" and agree to see each other exclusively.

Annie was a little puzzled as they lived halfway across the country from one another, and she really didn't believe in long-distance relationships. She reluctantly agreed because she liked him, and Robert was elated.

In fact, Robert was so elated, he immediately did what any guy would do in that situation. He logged onto Annie's Facebook page and began sending her friends unsolicited messages, such as: "Thanks for being such a good friend to Annie."

Creepy? Maybe.

Intrusive? Definitely.

Ball? Not so fucking shiny anymore, folks.

The tone of his Facebook messages wasn't at all friendly. He wasn't actually thanking her friends for being nice, it was more of a "Hey thanks, but you're really not needed anymore" kind of thank you.

Robert soon turned passive-aggressive and controlling. His cute little texts turned into interrogation sessions. Who was Annie with and why? What was she doing?

He demanded to meet her parents, and harassed her friends online. No matter how much he could find out about Annie, it was never quite enough.

So he bought another plane ticket to come see Annie.

A one-way ticket. Yay!

They had to "go look at rings" and "plan his move to her hometown" he said.

Soon after Robert arrived, Robert's juvenile antics started driving Annie crazy. She writes "I began to see Robert as clingy, controlling, needy, and honestly ... a pussy."

Vaginas everywhere were offended.

Annie quickly prepared for "the talk." Couch pillows were fluffed as lines were rehearsed, and Annie called Robert into the living room to inform him that he was no longer welcome at her home, and would have to leave first thing in the morning.

Robert reacted by vomiting on her couch, which pretty much negated the purpose of her earlier pillow-fluffing.

Fresh out of vomit, Robert began to cry, and continued crying throughout the entire night. Sobbing, actually. Annie couldn't believe what she saw. "His reaction to the end of a relationship that had been at the most two months long and mostly phone-based made me tell him to nut the fuck up and get over it," Annie says.

Robert left in the morning after insisting she keep his Army dog tags as a symbol of his undying love for her.

Fresh out of Kleenex, steam-cleaning coupons, and boyfriends, Annie decided to try another go-around with her ex-boyfriend Mike, whom she loved deeply. Mike and Annie began their relationship anew, but this time around they had a new, unexpected problem.

Robert.

In his first week back home, Robert sent Annie 65 emails, 317 text messages, 52 phone calls, and even contemplated FedEx-ing Annie some fresh vomit. At first Annie tried playing the nice card, explaining she had reunited with Mike and was no longer interested in having any contact with Robert.

"That's ok," Robert said, "I'll fight for you."

He didn't get it, obviously.

The texts started increasing in frequency, blowing up her cell phone 24 hours a day. Her boyfriend Mike composed an email for Robert, telling him in no uncertain terms that he was entering dangerous territory and needed to stop all communications. To which he responded with more texts professing his undying love for Annie.

In between bouts of abusing his T-Mobile "Friends and Family" texting privileges, Robert began posting rambling essays about his love for Annie on the internet forum where they met, letting everyone know Annie was just "confused about her love life," and soon would figure it all out. But in the meantime, Robert was still planning his big move to Annie's hometown, where he would be welcomed by a huge parade.

A huge parade of lawyers and police officers that is, organized by Annie herself.

Annie and Mike's relationship was blossoming, and Robert was really getting angry now, as somewhat evidenced by the following text:

Robert: "I'm really getting angry now."

But Robert still planned to move, so Annie consulted her lawyers, who instructed Annie to block all communications from Robert and refuse all his texts and phone calls. If that didn't work, it was time for a restraining order.

She did, but Robert's incessant and threatening texts only increased to the point where Annie decided to finally answer one of his phone calls.

She told Robert he was a complete fucking psychopath, and needed to immediately cease all communications with her or a restraining order would be filed immediately at the court house. She made it very clear to him:

"Leave me the fuck alone."

Now, longtime PLFM readers pretty much know by now what happens when you threaten a stalker with a restraining order.

They write you another letter to tell you how they feel about you, of course.

And that is exactly what Robert did.

Let's see if Robert finally got the message, shall we?

(Hint: No.)

My dearest Annie,

So I realized that I couldn't just keep lobbing things over the fence wondering where they were landing - or if they were even noticed. I had to tell you directly how I feel and give you a chance to respond.

Right or wrong, the simple fact is that I'm still very much in love with you. And much as I don't want to feel frightened about the future right now, it doesn't change how I feel about YOU... realistically, I don't want it to change. Having gone through all the expected emotions regarding this entire situation - fear, sadness, grief, anger, acceptance - I'm still left with one emotion that won't let go: love. I adore you, and you know it.

This has never happened to me. If this was a normal situation, I would have gotten pissed, called you names out loud and in my head, let that consume the love I have for you and simply gotten on with it. But this is anything but a normal situation.

I see that the two of us are very much in tune with each other. You said I understand you. It's true, I really do. And the events of the past few weeks notwithstanding, there isn't a fiber in my being that doesn't feel as though you're the girl I always wanted. Like I said before, it's that good. I love everything about you, hon, and there ain't much that's gonna change that.

I know what you're trying to do. I applaud your efforts. I don't think it'll work. You've read my thoughts on the situation. But I think there's a part of you that wants all the things we talked about so many times, wants the good things that we developed together, things that I very much want. And put quite simply, I want those things - with you.

So trust me when I say that I will 100% be be your guy when you're ready. We packed a year's worth of relationship stuff into a very short period of time and I'll be damned if I don't think that's something worth waiting - and, if necessary - fighting for. I miss you. I miss making love to you.

All I can offer you is more - much more - of the same things you expressed so much appreciation for when were friends, when we were lovers... when you could love me openly. That offer still stands, baby. I want you back.

Now I know that the idea of me moving to (city) really threw you for a loop, but there's a lot more to it than I had a chance to explain. I've long wanted to shoot for a position with (company in city).

You don't have to push me away to get the space you need to work on the things you need to work on, nor should it be necessary for you to push me away because Mike can't handle it. If I can deal with Mike, Mike should be able to deal with me.

Did I mention that I love you? :) Have I ever failed to mention that? Nope. Never will.

You are NEVER not on my mind.

Robert

You know, something tells me Robert just doesn't get the big picture here.

And as you can see, stalkers just really don't see anything wrong with what they're doing.

Annie wants us to know she is still dealing with Robert, who still texts her on occasion, and writes about how much he wants to hate Annie on his fantastic blog. "But he just can't," he says, "because he loves her so much.

Hey Robert?

Get a fucking life.

PLFM will keep you updated if we hear more from Annie.

Idle Threats

2009-04-18T05:12:00.000-07:00

Why do we choose to date losers?

What motivates us to pursue someone who lives at home with their parents, drinks all the time, has no motivation to do anything with their lives, and never has any goddamn fucking money?

What exactly is it that makes us say "Mmmmm, yes, boy, I want piece of that fucking action."

Like stepping on our sunglasses or forgetting where we parked our car, I like to chalk it up to plain stupidity. Sometimes we just don't know any better until it's too late.

But on the bright side, at least when you forget where you parked your car, your car doesn't threaten to kill itself.

Losers?

Yeah, they pretty much do that dumb shit all the time.

Just ask Sarah.

Sarah had been dating Alec for about ten months. One day she woke up and noticed something really annoying stuck to her sweater.

It was Alec.

You see, Sarah had witnessed two dawns on that particular morning. First, the beautiful sun had dawned on her, which absolutely sparkled with possibility.

The second thing to dawn on Sarah that morning was the fact that her boyfriend Alec was a humongous loser.

Sarah had big plans for life, and had recently decided to take her first big step by applying to a university. She was accepted, and was absolutely elated at the prospect of starting a new life.

Alec was thrilled as well, and together they joined hands and danced in a small semi-circle for at least 13 minutes. Which was great, except for the fact that it never happened.

What actually happened was that Alec got upset that Sarah got into some dumb stupid college. What the hell did a retarded university have to offer Sarah that Alec couldn't provide her, aside from the well manicured ivy plants and economical food plans? And why did his girlfriend have to run off and be all, like, motivated and stuff?

See, Alec had big plans for life too. It was Wednesday, which meant that on Saturday (which was three days later!) Alec had to mow the lawn, because that was part of the agreement he had with his grandparents to live rent free in their house. And free rent is a good deal when you don't have a job in your twenties! Score!

That morning, Sarah knew what she had to do.

Sarah wanted to go out and experience life, a real life, and Alec would do nothing but hold her back from achieving her wildest dreams.

So Alec had to go.

Sarah tried to let down Alec easily at first, but Alec put up a fight. And by fight, I mean he cried like a baby.

Then he whined, and then he pleaded, and then, according to Sarah, he "punched a tree," which not only shocked our nation's arborists, but also caused the price of Sarah's college textbooks to immediately increase another 3.5%.

For reasons unbeknownst to myself, our readers, and Sarah, Sarah eventually gave in and decided to take him back. "Against my better judgement," Sarah adds.

Sarah went off to college and the problems immediately escalated. Alec called her every hour of every day to complain that he missed her, and to endlessly whine about how he never got to see her anymore.

When Alec did visit Sarah, all he did was try to pressure her into having sex with him. Which is annoying enough for most women, but even more so for Sarah, who still proudly carries her HymenBank VISA© platinum card.

Finally Sarah had had enough of it, and dumped his sorry ass.

At which point Alec immediately started threatening to kill himself.

It got bad enough that the police and Alec's family eventually had to get involved, and it turned into a really ugly situation very quickly.

Alec then began to confront Sarah at her church, so she knew it was time to extract herself from the situation. She decided to cut off all ties to Alec, and instructed him to never, ever contact her again in person, or through Facebook, email, telephone, hand-written letter or well-meaning carrier pigeon.

Alec agreed to never contact Sarah again through an extended series of well-constructed emails. Sarah then threatened him with a restraining order, and if he contacted her one more time, she would press charges.

To which Alec promptly resonded with another email.

Go ahead Alec.

dearest Sarah

first and foremost I wish to apologize for sending this last desperate plea for I know that you with good reason probably hate me. that said I can not and will not ever leave you completely. your words in the church that day were the most painful thing I could have ever heard still even though you could not have ever hurt me more than you did I still love you my love is one thing that is a hard thing to get and once you have it it is not so easy to toss away I only wish that you understand that I cannot and will not ever completely be over you.

because I stupidly fell in love with you a girl who is a selfish, arrogant, brat concerned with only one thing getting hers and the rest of the world can burn for all she cares.

oh I am sorry but that is what you are plain and simple and I only wish I could honestly say I don't care about you anymore but I can't so instead I will stupidly go on loving you for all eternity.

by the way I love you more than my own mother and that is one thing that should be scary to me because my mom went through hell to get me this far.

p.s. dont be surprised if you get this several times because I don't know if you have blocked me on here or any other site I wish you could understand the pain your words inflicted on me cause it hurt a lot to here you say you were afraid of me killing you when I have no means of doing so nor would I ever want to do such a thing.

Yeah, Sarah! You're so selfish and arrogant for going to college! Think about someone else for a change, like maybe, perhaps, oh, I don't know, maybe someone in their twenties that lives with his grandparents and is really good at Guitar Hero.

Alec once again tried to contact Sarah on her birthday, but Sarah rightfully denied all of his overtures. She then received another email from Alec, titled "now i'm gone."

To: Sarah

From: Alec

Subj: now i'm gone

and here is the reason

goodbye sarah

i tried my best but apparently it wasn't good enough

After killing himself a second time, Alec likely enjoyed some refreshing libations and a light (and certainly wholesome) chicken salad, followed by sending Sarah another harassing email a week later.

Dear Sarah

I hope you know what you have done i needed you and you aren't there and I cant go on living like this I always feel like shit I want to lay with you in the sun every day I will NEVER hurt you or intentionally bring you harm I have only love and respect for you I am confused and wish I could hold you and hear you say everything will be just fine that is truely all i ever wanted and probably all I ever will want cause you brought me true happieness

Please if I am not too late and if your heart hasn't been won by another then PLEASE help me I definitely cant stand the separation any longer If it is just Impossible for you to feel anything Please at least let us be just friends I cant sleep without it ok that is all I have to say.

I appoligize for everything I am just as much to blame for the horrible state of our friendship as you are and yes you do share the blame I don't care what you say you NEVER bring up suicide at the end of a relationship now if you think it is easier to be me than it is to be you let me remind you who had a heart attack at less than half the age he ever expected to have a heart attack at so there you have it a valid reason why we both have had hard shit to deal with.

His email went on longer, but I think we all have other things to do at this point, don't we?

Cookies are baking, dogs are peeing on the carpet, and I actually have a date in two hours, who will probably end up writing a letter about me to PLFM, and I will end up having to criticize myself.

Sarah's last email hurrah?

You're just giving me evidence I could possibly use in court for harrassment. Now get lost and STOP CONTACTING ME.

Good job, Sarah, but now you need to follow up on your threats and file a restraining order. This guy is not going away, period.

PLFM would like to add a note to you women out there currently dating losers. Yes, I'm talking to you. You know who you are.

Losers are horrible to date, but even worse when you dump them. They have nothing else to lose except you, and it always leads to situations like this or worse.

If you sit around wishing your loser boyfriend would get a life, I have a better idea. Why don't you get a life and dump your fucking loser boyfriend.

Seriously.

Feel free to discuss your loser boyfriends and girlfriends in the comments.

Lesson Learned

2009-04-03T21:01:00.000-07:00

Nicole admits she had gotten a bit lonely.

New city, new job, and a long distance relationship that had recently broken down due to her boyfriend's lack of commitment.

Actually, he had plenty of commitment, but it was more focused on Nicole's best friend back home now that Nicole was no longer in town.

"It just happened, I didn't mean to hurt you," explained Nicole's BFF.

Yeah, whatever, you cold and soulless cock hoarder.

Anyway, Nicole decided to troll the murky, stagnant pond of internet dating sites to jumpstart her social life. After her personal ad had been posted for only a couple days, she got a really nice email from Andrew.

Andrew explained he had just gotten out of a long relationship and wasn't ready to jump into anything, but he really liked Nicole's personal ad.

Nicole checked out Andrew's profile on a different site, and liked what she saw, so she emailed Andrew back and the two began regularly chatting over the internet.

Andrew lived about 80 miles from Nicole, and Nicole was apprehensive about meeting someone so quickly over the internet, so she admits she wasn't exactly pushing to meet with Andrew right off the bat.

Andrew and Nicole began chatting every night for hours on end, and Nicole admits she began using Andrew as an outlet for her troubled emotional state. She told him about problems she was having at her job, and at one point sought out help from Andrew about some issues with her car.

Two points that would eventually come back to haunt her.

One night Andrew told Nicole he wanted to send Nicole over some pictures so Nicole could see what he "actually" looked like. Andrew sent her three pictures via email the next day, and Nicole opened them while she was at work.

After opening the first picture, Nicole says was quite disappointed. Andrew had apparently posted some very old pictures on his dating profile, because he didn't look much like the guy she saw online. Says Nicole, "He was quite out of shape and he had grown some facial hair, and he wearing a dirty white tank top."

The second picture wasn't any more enticing, and then she got to the third. Andrew had sent her a picture of his dick. "I was so totally grossed out," she said.

When Nicole logged on that night, Andrew was waiting for her.

Nicole: why did you send me that?
Andrew: what
Nicole: you know what
Andrew: ur going to see it eventually lol
Nicole: no im not
Andrew: you don't like it?
Nicole: that was so rude i opened it at work
Andrew: show it to anyone did you
Nicole: you dont get it do you
Andrew: get what
Nicole: youre an ass and you dont even realize it goodbye andy

... and with that Nicole logged off and decided to not talk to Andrew anymore.

Nicole ignored Andrew from that point on, but Andrew didn't quite ignore Nicole. Andrew sent her emails, sometimes 2 or 3 a day, asking her to log on that night so he could apologize. Nicole never did, hoping the problem would just go away, but it didn't.

Nicole,

I miss you and I want to sincerely apologize. I dont want things to turn out this way. I made a stupid mistake and I shouldnt have sent that to you and I apologize for that again but is that a reason to shut me out of your life? Was it that serious to you? Please talk to me tonight, I miss you and want to know how XXXXXXXXXX is doing. I dont think we should throw away this friendship over nothing? I'll be on about 10 if you want to talk. Hope youre there!

Andy

Nicole continued to read Andrew's emails for about a week, but never responded to them.

Two weeks later, Nicole was at her desk at work when a co-worker came up to her and told her there was someone waiting for her in the lobby.

His name was Andy.

"I was freaking out," says Nicole, "so I told her to tell him I wasn't there and I went and hid in the back office for the rest of the day. I didn't know what to do and at this point I was pretty scared because he knew where I worked."

And then it gets worse.

Nicole had a male co-worker walk her out to the parking lot after work. There was a note on her car underneath the windshield wiper. "I had totally forgotten that he knew what kind of car I drove because we had talked about it online."

Nicole read the note.

"I know you are here and I only came to apologize to your fat face. Fuck you bitch!!! You better watch your back!!!"

Nicole didn't know what to do at this point, and says she felt like she was going to have a nervous breakdown.

Later that night, Nicole says she gathered up the courage to sit down and write an email to Andrew expressing that she wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. She sent the following email:

I no longer want anything to do with you Andy XXXXXXXX. I do not want you to contact me through email or instant messenger. Please do not come to my job or anywhere near my place of employment. If you ever contact me again I will file a restraining order against you which will become a matter of public record. I advise you to take this email seriously. I have kept your emails and I have the note you left on my car as evidence. DO NOT CONTACT ME AGAIN.

Nicole

Nicole sent the email to Andrew and got an almost instant response from Andrew.

Fuck you cunt quit contacting me.

Nicole says she thought about filing a restraining order right away, but didn't. She didn't sleep well that night, or the whole week for that matter. She had a male co-worker meet her in the parking lot every morning before work, and every night he walked her to her car. "I didn't go anywhere without someone by my side, and had to have my sister take me to the grocery store."

Her threat to Andrew apparently worked, because Nicole didn't hear from Andrew again.

Until a month later.

Nicole left work to find someone had smashed a milkshake all over the passenger door of her car. "I knew in my heart it was probably Andy, but I figured the police would tell me I had to prove it."

She didn't need to.

Nicole came home from work to find an email from Andrew on her computer.

"Hey you dumb cunt just wanted to let you know I've been thinking about you."

Attached was a picture of Andrew jacking off.

Nicole immediately called her friend to come over. They gathered up all the evidence Nicole had collected from Andrew, and filed a restraining order against him that night.

Thankfully, Nicole never heard from Andrew again.

Two years later, Nicole says it had a profound effect on her life. She ended up selling her car, leaving her job, and moving back home. It wasn't all about Andrew, but she says he was certainly a motivating factor.

Once home, ironically, her ex-boyfriend tried to re-kindle their relationship after he had slept with her best friend.

"I just couldn't win with men," Nicole says, "I was seriously thinking about living a lesbian lifestyle on a permanent basis."

Her one small victory in all of this?

"I heard (my ex boyfriend) got herpes and gave it to my ex friend. It couldn't have happened to two more deserving people."

Nicole says she is now happily engaged to a great man, but wants to send a word of advice to people reading PLFM.

"Looking back now, I realize I was naive and this was partially my fault for telling Andrew where I worked. But never reveal anything about yourself online to anyone, because you never know who you are dealing with."

Good advice Nicole.

Good advice.

If you've been stalked, feel free to post it in the comments.

If you have letters, feel free to send them in to PLFM at weaselworden@yahoo.com.

New Year's Heave

2009-04-01T03:54:00.000-07:00

We all tend to go a little crazy on New Years Eve.

We go out, we get astoundingly drunk, and we hang out with a bunch of other crazy people we don't know. And it's great time, because everyone's being crazy.

But therein lies an interesting problem.

If we're all expected to act crazy on New Year's Eve, how do we discern normal people acting crazy because it's New Year's Eve from the people that are actually psychologically crazy?

How do we know who's just having fun vs. who goes home from the bar and sews a coin purse from the scrotum of the neighbor's dog?

The answer is, we don't.

And unfortunately, Erika found out the hard way.

Erika went out on New Year's Eve with some friends, and some friends of friends. Normally a pretty safe and secure group if you trust your friends, which obviously you should.

Erika admits she's a little off-kilter, and ended up meeting a nice gentleman named Robert. Robert and Erika really hit it off that night, and Erika was rather charmed by Robert's sick and twisted sense of humor.

Robert kept mentioning he was crazy, but Erika assumed he meant like the boyish "I'm so crazy, I find the most disgusting things funny.... ..." type of crazy.

Robert lived about an hour of town, and the two lovebirds were drunk out of their minds, so Erika invited Robert to spend the night at her apartment.

They went home and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. They exchanged some DNA, exchanged their phone numbers, and had a great time.

"The next morning," Erika says, "everything seemed totally cool."

Robert returned home, and Erika and Robert spent the next few weeks text messaging each other daily. They had a funky little long-distance romance going, and couldn't wait to see each other in a couple weeks when Robert was coming back into town for the weekend.

Finally the big weekend arrived, only Robert didn't arrive with the weekend. He never came by at all. Erika was a bit concerned, until she got a text message late on Saturday night from Robert.

Robert: Sorry, I was in jail.

Erika: For what?

Robert: I about damn killed that boy.

Now, this concerned Erika.

Most people call frantically from jail, screaming of false arrests, confusing circumstances, and huge misunderstandings.

Robert, on the other hand, said "I'm in jail" the same way you or I might say "Please pass the green beans" at a pleasant Thanksgiving dinner hosted by your grandparents.

Erika was beginning to have second thoughts about her quirky New Years Eve lover, but dismissed it as an isolated incident. He seemed like a really nice guy, and they had a lot in common.

A couple days later, Robert sent her a new text asking Erika for a picture.

Erika: What do I get out of this?

Robert: Have faith.

Erika: Faith we will get to hang out this weekend?

Robert: Faith that I'm an alcoholic and I'm going to whoop you.

Erika: What?!!?

Robert: Have faith that I will get drunk and beat you to death with my fist.

Erika's jaw hit the ground.

There had been no argument, no miscommunications, nothing. "I stopped all communication with him at that point," Erika says, "I hadn't done anything to make him mad."

The next weekend Erika was out at a bar when her phone rang. She looked at phone and saw "Robert" on her screen, and assumed it was another Robert she knew. She answered the phone to find "I'm going to beat you to death with my fist" Robert on the other line.

He was in town, and wanted to get together. Erika told him that she wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. Robert explained that he had just been joking with her, and figured she would understand that he was kidding around. He just had a crazy sense of humor.

"I don't really want anyone to tell me they're going to kill me, joking or not," Erika told him. He pleaded with her to no avail, and Erika eventually ended the conversation. It was over and done with, she thought. She promptly changed his phone ID to "Robert Do Not Answer."

Then the texts and phone calls really started coming in at all hours of the day and night. Robert called her constantly, pleading for her to pick up the phone. He called from other phones and left messages for her. She ignored all his texts and phone calls.

Finally, during Mardi Gras, Robert decided to leave Erika some special messages at 2:45 in the morning.

Take it away, Robert.

(Edited for clarity. As if that helps any.)

Message #1

Suck my dick like an ice cream bar. You know who I am, you don't want to know. Cause I'll fuck you in your bootyhole. I'm crazy. I'll use dawn dishwashing liquid to fuck you in the pussy, you dirty old dish liquid. I hope you die you dirty old whore.

And 2 minutes later:

Message #2

It's a goddamn mother fucking thing you didn't answer your goddamn mother fucking phone. Cause you fucking fatass motherfucker don't ever get no dick in your life and now you have to worry about Robert in your life. But don't worry because I'm going to pimp your ass and when you hear a thump at 2 in the morning, you know it's gonna be Robert up in the motherfucker.

And you know Dean's got your number. Dean's got your number. So it ain't just me, it ain't just me. You stupid ass whore. you come all the way from my city, you stupid ass mother fucker. You rich ass. Toyota. Toyota.

Certainly sounds like someone needs a prescription. But is he done?

Two nights later, Robert sends a solitary text to Erika.

"It is what it is."

True indeed Robert.

It what it is.

Thankfully, Erika hasn't heard from him since. She adds:

"I'm not sure if he got bored of me, or gave me up for Lent."

Let's hope both.

OK. This Is Fucked Up.

2009-03-27T04:15:00.000-07:00

Kelly is one happy girl.

She has a fantastic job which allows her to travel, she has great friends, and she has a wonderful and close relationship with her family.

She's one of those women you see walking alone down the street after work with a huge smile on her face, and you can only mutter to yourself "What in the hell is that crazy woman smiling about?"

She's not crazy. She's that happy.

Her life is a 24-hour tampon commercial.

How could we screw this one up?

Cue Matthew.

Kelly has known Matthew for a long time through one of those friend-of-a-friend type things. They were just casual acquaintances, and nothing had ever transpired between them.

Yet.

So Matthew lives in a another city. One day, Kelly discovers her employer needs to send her on a trip to the same far-off city where Matthew happens to live.

Kelly's days in the far-off city were dedicated to work, but she had no plans for the evenings, aside from smiling a lot, doing some skipping, and singing a few duets about friendship with the wide variety of cartoon birds that regularly landed on her shoulders.

So Kelly decided to meet with Matthew after work for a few drinks and some karaoke.

And let's just say Kelly got a little bit out of hand at karaoke.

In fact, it got so out-of-hand that the only thing not out-of-hand was Matthew's penis, which somehow ended up in her hand. And from there, it ended up somewhere else completely unrelated to her hand.

Oh, well. Shit happens, right? No harm, no foul.

Kelly went back to her city only to discover that her employer now wanted Kelly to permanently move to the city where Matthew lived. Says Kelly:

"In my young, carefree way, I took the opportunity!"

Yeah, I don't know what she snorts, but I need a fucking wheelbarrow full of it.

Anyway, Kelly moved to the big new city. Matthew finds out Kelly moved, and suddenly convinces himself that Kelly moved because she wants to be with Matthew.

Which she doesn't. She has no interest in him. At all.

Matthew starts texting Kelly all the time to see if she moved because of him. Kelly tells him "no".

Matthew doesn't like that answer, so he just repeats the question in another text. And many other questions related to the first question. Along with questions not related to the first question, such as re-kindling the relationship that never existed, and how he liked those certain places that had nothing to do with her hand.

In fact Matthew became an incredible nuisance, so much so that Kelly's unbreakable smile finally started to fade. And, surely somewhere, a tear rolled down a baby bunny's cheek.

Kelly finally got so fucking sick of Matthew's stalkerish texts and his ridiculous insinuations that Kelly moved there to be with him that she finally decided to put an end to the relationship that had never even been a relationship in the first place.

Ever bubbly Kelly finally snapped, and broke out some serious motherfucking haiku for Matthew's ass, telling him in no uncertain terms to ...

"Pull your head out of your fucking ass and go annoy someone else!"

Matthew finally got the picture.

Did I mention this was over the holidays?

It was over the holidays.

So Christmas morning rolls around, and one of Kelly's family members calls her in a complete and utter panic. "Are you OK? Is everything alright?"

Of course everything was alright. It was Christmas morning. Why wouldn't everything be alright?

Then another family member calls her in a panic with the same question. And then another.

Finally, Kelly figured out what was going on.

Turns out Matthew had a little Christmas present for Kelly's family.

On Christmas morning, Matthew sent the following completely fabricated email to Kelly's father:

I'm seriously worried about Kelly.

On the 22nd she sent me texts like:

'It's been fun. Take care. Love you.'

'My phone is almost dead, ironically.'

'Text from the other side! Phone out of battery, going to sleep, take care.'

Okay so naturally I was pretty confused and a little worried about this kinda shit. It kinda sounded like a bluff, you know almost a cry for attention sort of thing.

But I didnt hear from her for a while so I started to get worried again. I texted her the next day and she told me she'd tried to slit her wrists in the night but hadn't been successful...I'm really concerned.

I'm not sure how she is now, but seriously something is up, she needs help.

Matthew had been doing a little digging into Kelly's family during the holidays, and somehow found her father's email address.

And just to brighten the family mood on Christmas morning, Matthew decided to insinuate that Kelly had tried to kill herself.

Kelly assures me that the email is complete and total fabricated fucking bullshit. "I've never been depressed in my life," she says.

Are we done yet?

Of course not.

Kelly got another text from Matthew one month later.

"Hey, are you still mad at me? Do you want to get together and catch up?"

Yeah.

Seriously.

Cineplex Ohmygod

2009-03-24T04:24:00.000-07:00

Kristin recently finished off another round of unsuccessful dates through Match.com, and had pretty much given up on the whole idea of online dating.

"I wanted chemistry, and I wasn't finding it through the computer. A guy may look good on the screen, and even in person, but when there's no chemistry, there's no chemistry. Period."

Kristin ignored her profile for a couple weeks, but checked in on a whim one day to find a message from a guy named Mark.

"Hi! I saw you as I was looking through some profiles. I think you sound interesting, would you like to meet me after work for a drink sometime? If not, I understand and good luck out there in the dating world!"

Kristin checked his profile, and was surprised to discover that he was quite good-looking and apparently successful to boot. Kristin wrote him back a note and asked him a few questions, which he answered within the hour. He seemed pleasant, funny and genuinely excited to meet her.

Mark invited Kristin to dinner that Friday, and they had a great time together. No awkward moments of silence, no lull in the conversation, and he even buttered her rolls. And I mean that literally, not figuratively.

Mark and Kristin spent nearly six hours together that night.

"We had a great time. He was really funny and seemed really interested in me, plus he was polite like men used to be, he pulled out my chair before I sat and he put my coat on me before we went outside."

At the end of the night, Mark walked Kristin to her door. Mark had mentioned earlier that he had hoped to catch Gran Torino the next night, and asked if Kristin would like to join him. Kristin said yes, but according to Kristin, it came out more like "HELL YES!!!!"

Mark pecked her on the lips, got in his car, and drove away.

Kristin says she was floored. The guy was hot as hell, successful, and funny, and had just taken her on one of the better dates of her life. "I had butterflies after the first date. Good thing!"

Good thing indeed, Kristin.

We can't wait to hear about the second date.

Or... can we?

Cue the Jaws theme once again please.

Prince Charming came by the next evening and parked directly in front of her house. Kristin was still getting ready when she heard a car horn, so she looked outside to see Mark waiting in the car with the engine running. Perplexed, she called Mark on her cell.

"Hey, I'll be ready in just a second," she said, and then laughingly added "Why didn't you just call me and tell me you were outside instead of honking the horn?"

His charming response?

"Does it really matter?"

Turn up that ominous music a notch.

Kristin got into the car to find the Mark from the previous evening had been replaced with a surlier, less-talkative version. Kristin's initial excitement to see him wore off rather quickly. He wasn't talking much, didn't smile, and was getting angry with the traffic.

When they arrived at the theater, Mark and Kristin found a seat together and waited for the movie to start. Kristin heard someone call her name behind her, and turned around to see her high school boyfriend sitting a few rows back with his new boyfriend. They had remained friendly over the years after he came out of the closet, and she hadn't seen him in a while, so she excused herself to go say hello.

"I was gone all of five minutes," Kristin insists.

She returned to her seat, and Mark scowled at her.

"Who's that?" he asked.

"That was just a guy I knew from high school," she answered.

"OK, whatever. Did you sleep with him?"

Kristin, at 27, found that question a little perplexing. And rude. "Is that really any of your business?"

Mark didn't respond right away, but rather found it more appropriate to respond mid-way through the movie. "Yes, I do. I'm on a date with you, and leave me sitting here alone to go talk to a guy you obviously fucked."

Kristin's blood began to boil, but she remained quiet. After the movie, Mark and Kristin got up to leave the theater. Mark was ahead of Kristin as they shuffled out, and Kristin had to use the restroom before they left.

"He was so far ahead of me at that point that I practically had to yell out to him that I was going to use the restroom. He turned around and looked at me and just stood in place as if he was going to wait for me. Which he didn't. The fucking asshole left me at the theater with no ride home."

That's right folks, Kristin finished up in the theater restroom and Mark was gone. She called and got no answer. She texted him and got no response. In a fit of rage, she texted "FUCK YOU ASSHOLE!"

Kristin got a ride home from her ex-boyfriend, and found an email waiting for her when she walked in the door.

From Mark.

Take it away, Prince Charming.

1. First of all, what gives you the fucking rights to tell me to call you instead of honking my horn. WHAT IS THE DIFFERENCE? You were supposeed to be READY and you weren't ready and it was late and I told you how much I wanted to see Gran torino. The funniest part is for all the time you must have taken to get ready you didn't even look that good. Seriously I usually date 8's and above. You do not meet that qualifications tonight.

2. I suggest that you never tell a person you are on a date with to calm down when they are driving as it just provides more of a distraction and makes a driver angrier.

3. You left me sitting for 15 minutes in a theater all by myself, do you not understand how inconsiderate that is especially when you go to talk to a guy that you obviously fucked or are fucking lmao? We were on a date and on a date that means you should be paying attention to me, not all the other guys you fucked before you met me. I was embarrassed that I sat there alone while other people looked at me and thought I was some loser that goes to movies by himself. Thanks for that, very nice of you.

4. I DID waited for you for 5 minutes and when you did not come out I figured you left me there so I just left, so no FUCK YOU ASSHOLE.

You are really one classy lady you know that. Does your whole family speak that way? Maybe you need to take a class on manners Kristen, that is not how civilized people speak with each other.

I have given this some consideration and I will be willing to go out with you again under the following rules.

1. No talking to other guys you FUCKED.
2. Especially no talking to GAY GUYS YOU FUCKED.
3. I drive again and honk my horn at you.

Just kidding I wouldn't go out with you again. I don't like to date women that have sex with gay guys.

Well good luck dating to you you're going to need it, and lose my number NOW I don't want you getting drunk again and calling me. By the way on your next date maybe you shouldn't get so drunk? just something for you to think about.

BYE

Way to show your maturity level Mark.

"I don't even know what the drunk reference is," says Kristin, "I didn't even have four drinks the first night we went out. For me, that's certainly not drunk. Never in my life have I met such a jekyll and hyde asshole!"

We agree, Kristin.

We agree.

But You're The One That's Pregnant

2009-03-19T02:25:00.001-07:00

Sometimes we fall into relationships of lust.

Based solely on animal sexual attraction, we don't mince words when we call each other. We're not looking for a Scrabble partner, or a date to the freestyle goat herding exhibition.

While we enjoy these relationships from time to time, we have to realize that fucking for sport is still fucking, and with fucking comes problems.

Emotions boil up.

STD's abound.

Hotel towels become crispy.

But worst of all... ... we occasionally mix our caustic ingredients to form infants.

That wasn't supposed to happen, was it? We were just having a good time. We used protection. Shit, we barely even like each other.

Now what?

Samantha and Tom had been doing the nasty for quite a few months. The relationship wasn't serious, and neither had formed an emotional connection with the other. They pretty much had it down to a science. Exchange some pleasantries about the seasons, share a beverage and perhaps some high-calorie snack items, then tear each other's clothes off and fuck like steroid-fueled meerkats.

Samantha and Tom liked to call their fornification excursions "dirty weekends." After a particularly torrid dirty weekend, Samantha returned home to find something missing.

Namely, her period.

Samantha was pregnant.

Samantha immediately attempted to contact Tom to give him the news, but Tom wasn't answering his phone. "Anything you need to tell me, you can just tell me by email," he said.

So she emailed him. "I'm pregnant."

Tom didn't say much. In fact, Samantha says "he was pretty quiet about the whole thing." Which, of course, left Samantha to do all the talking. Tom may have just wanted to avoid the subject, but Samantha's the one walking around with some bread in the oven.

"I told him I'd take responsibility, be an adult, and didn't believe in abortion, but the rest was up to him."

So Tom stepped up to the plate and did the responsible thing.

He started by blaming Samantha's other lovers. Then he said it was impossible because he always used condoms. Then he attempted to convince Samantha that she had been on her period the last time they were together, so there was no way it was his. Then Tom stepped his game up from responsible to classy.

The devout Catholic began sending Samantha incessant emails about the joys of abortion, followed by additional emails expressing his desire to get laid immediately. He didn't want this stupid little "pregnancy" issue to get in the way of their torrid, hot and baby-forming relationship.

So he completely ignored the fact that she was pregnant. Completely. She asked him over and over to deal with it, and he responded each time by expressing his need to get laid. Finally, Samantha put her foot down.

"I tried to explain to him that since he wasn't willing to discuss or consider any pregnancy related issues then he was free to walk away and I'd cope alone - HOWEVER..we couldn't keep sleeping together. If he wanted to sleep together and continue to see me he'd have to deal with baby questions."

Forced into a corner, Tom responded in a manner which Samantha accurately describes as "wanting his cake and eating it too."

Tom's response?

Hey

I wasn't expecting an email like that!

Anyway... it is up to you to do what ever you want if you are pregnant.

With regard to your questions, I don't think it is my involvement still as I am pretty sure my sperm can't fertilize anymore. It has happened before. Docs have said that there is a very slim chance to get fertilized with my sperm due to number of reasons.

Do you want anything to do with the pregnancy?

I don't want anyone to get pregnant. If you want to terminate, sure you can.

Do you want any involvement in the kid's life?

No I don't.

Do you want to be on the birth certificate?

No I don't.

Money?

No. As it is I have lot of commitments and do not want to be involved in anything.

Hope you are not angry. If you don't want to come to the coast [for the planned dirty weekend] it's OK. I'll leave it up to you. The invitation is there however.

If you would like to have to have some "fun" I am available tomorrow afternoon as I am going to my Mums place tonight. She has baked a cake for us.

As you can see, Samantha's pregnancy weighs heavily on Tom.

But he sure needs some more of that great sex!

Adds Samantha:

1) He has TWINS already to another woman that he does claim. Sounds like his sperm works to me - and what is the "It has happened before" line - are there others out there with kids to him besides the twins?

2) His offer to fly me to the coast for a dirty weekend would mean he's spend close to $500 at least on me in one week - yet he can't think of contributing any money to a child.

3) He still thinks I'd go and sleep with him after telling me to terminate and that he wants no involvement.

4) What the FUCK is that cake reference?

Feel free to leave your anonymous pregnancy stories in the comments.

MySpace Stalker

2009-03-15T02:30:00.000-07:00

Here's another helpful hint from the PLFM staff at WWHM World Headquarters:

Never, ever give out your phone number to random people you meet on the internet.

Yeah, I know it's not rocket science, but I'm no rocket scientist. Believe me, I can barely figure out pants.

Some people, unfortunately, have to learn the hard way.

Kelly has a MySpace account, and a few months ago a 23 year-old guy named Ryan sent her a friend request along with a message.

"Hi Kelly. How are you? My name is Ryan. I am a student at XXXX XXXXX and I am going for my bachelors in criminal justice... ... blah blah blah redrum blah blah."

Basically, it was one of those things where someone you don't know feels inclined to contact you and tell you everything about their life because, well, they have nothing better to do. Kind of like the homeless person sitting next to you on the bus, minus the muted yet scintillating aroma of recently expelled urine.

Kelly first assumed Ryan must be a friend of a friend, and responded to a couple of his messages. Then Ryan stepped it up a notch, and the increasing frequency of his correspondence began to creep her out a little. When he began trying to figure out where she boarded her horses, it began to creep her out a lot. She didn't know this guy for shit, and sure as hell wasn't going to tell him anything about the whereabouts of her horses, or herself for that matter.

Kelly ignored his repeated messaging.

A couple months later, Kelly made plans to go out to a party. Kelly and all her friends were underage, and desperately needed someone to hook them up with some beers. Having exhausted all her options, Kelly remembered one more option ... ... Ryan, the 23 year-old guy from MySpace. She grabbed his number, called him up, and asked him if he could arrange to buy them some beers for the night. He agrees.

Says Kelly, "This is my entire encounter with him in person: I roll down car window, tell him what we would like, hand him money, roll up window, he comes out and I roll window down again, take bag and thank him, drive away. The end."

Or so she thought.

Kelly thought she'd be nice and send him a text the next day to thank him for stepping up to the plate and making the long drive. He responded:

"So I want to learn more about you. When is your birthday? What is your favorite type of flowers/ food/ movies? What is your favorite place to shop?"

And Kelly, unfortunately, told him. Would you like a moment to cringe by yourself, or are you comfortable cringing as a group?

Now, before you go and start bagging on Kelly for her lapse in judgment, she realizes it was a mistake. She questioned her own sanity as she did it. But she did it. She's a very nice girl.

In the least shocking news since Clay Aiken admitted he was gay, Ryan then began harassing Kelly over the telephone. Ryan wanted an opportunity to date Kelly, and Kelly wanted absolutely no part of it. Ryan called numerous times every day to see if Kelly would go out to dinner with him. Kelly had daily excuses lined up until she ran out of excuses, and then started borrowing excuses from her friends. Then those excuses ran out, so Kelly finally had to tell Ryan the truth.*

(*If "the truth" meant "the exact opposite of things that are true.")

Kelly basically told Ryan that her parents would feed her to the chickens if she ever went out on a date with him, and it was just never going to happen. Never. Ever. Not in a thousand fucking years. Just knock it the fuck off already, alright?

Then the texting started. All hours of the day and night, Ryan began sending texts to Kelly. "Good morning beautiful! How did you sleep?" every morning, and "Goodnight beautiful, sleep tight!" every single night. And in between, he'd barrage her with a bunch of meaningless texts about his feelings for her and his daily activities.

She responded to none of them. At all. Ever. And he just kept coming harder.

Says Kelly, "See, I figured the average person would take a hint and realize that if someone is not responding to a single text you send for over a week (and you know they are not dead because you can see they have been online everyday) that probably means they do not want to talk to you. But, unlike a normal person, Ryan took this as a hint to pursue me even more."

The texting only increased, now interspersed with cheesy love notes to her. "All that I am, all that I do, and all that I see is brighter and more beautiful because of my feelings for you."

So not only was Ryan a stalker, but apparently he worked at Mable's Gift and Card Shoppe. Sure stalking is bad, but copyright infringement? Fucking inexcusable!

Kelly continues.

"It was only mid-January and my birthday was not for another month, and he randomly sent me one text that said, "Hey Kelly. I am going to the store. Is there anything I can get you for your birthday?" My friend tried to convince me to milk him for all he was worth, but I knew that leading on an extreme creepo is probably the worst idea ever. Once again, I ignored it. I even blocked him on Myspace to give him even more of a hint."

Then came her birthday.

As usual Kelly got a text from Ryan that morning, but today it was something new.

"I have a surprise for you today!"

Kelly thought it was just another ruse to get her to respond, so she ignored the text. When she got home from school, there was a note on her door from a local florist. They had attempted to deliver some flowers to her home address.

From Ryan.

Now Kelly was scared. Really fucking scared.

This guy, who had bought her beer one time, and to whom she hadn't responded to despite over a month of texts and phone calls, had finally figured out her home address.

Her phone rang every five minutes throughout the night, interspersed with text messages. Kelly wanted to confront him, but was too terrified to acknowledge his existence.

The next day, her home phone rang and she answered it because Ryan didn't have her home phone number. But, of course, it was Ryan. She hung up and called her brother. Her brother called Ryan back and warned him in no uncertain terms to never ever fucking contact his sister again. And surprisingly, it actually worked. The non-stop onslaught of calls and texts stopped.

But the story doesn't.

Kelly mentioned the next week on her Facebook page that she had gotten rid of her stalker. One of her friends responded "Is your stalker named Ryan?" Yes it was.

Ryan had been contacting all Kelly's friends, telling them he was her new boyfriend and trying to mine information about her. They all smelled a rat (no offense to rats) and refused to tell him anything.

Then Kelly got a message and a new friend request from a strange girl named "Summer" on MySpace. "I'm new to Idaho. Looking for friends!"

Kelly checked out the new account profile, and discovered only one picture and a profile written almost exactly like Ryan's profile. She denied the friend request, only to find a new message the next morning. From "Summer."

"Hello, my name is Summer.

I gota talk to you bout something. My bestie guy friend is Ryan, the same dude the sent you flowers. I was with him that day, when he bought them, that’s how I know this. I’m curious to know why you thought he was a stalker, or creeper, or whatever you thought of him. Whatever you say stay between us. The only reason I’m sending this to you, because I care about my friends, as I’m sure you do also. Whatever wrong impressions you have of him, please don’t take at face value, he’s a good guy once you understand him the way I do. Hopefully No hard feeling towards me for sending this."

Kelly adds, "I knew 100% it was him, but just to be certain I went on "her" profile and looked to see if they were friends on Myspace. Nope..plus her profile claimed she has JUST moved here from Oregon and didnt know anyone. Mmmkkk but your best friends with him..uuhh huhh sure."

Kelly had had enough, and was so enraged she finally decided to write him a little love note of her own.

"I'M NOT FUCKING RETARDED. I KNOW THIS IS RYAN. WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM? I TALKED TO YOU ONE TIME IN PERSON FOR 2 MINUTES AND I'VE BEEN IGNORING YOU FOR THE PAST FEW WEEKS...CANT YOU TAKE A HINT? LETS JUST MAKE IT CLEAR..YOU ARE A FUCKING PSYCHOTIC CREEP AND I WANT NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU. YOU CREEP ME OUT. DO NOT CONTACT ME AGAIN OR I SWEAR I WILL HAVE TO COPS OUT TO YOUR HOUSE IN A MATTER OF MINUTES. GET A LIFE YOU FREAK.

OH, AND LEAVE MY FUCKING FRIENDS ALONE AND STOP TRYING TO ADD THEM WITH YOUR FAKE PROFILE YOU PEDOPHILE. YOUR 23..GO MAKE FRIENDS WITH PEOPLE YOUR OWN AGE."

Ryan hasn't contacted her since.

It took a gallon of goddamn bitch to stop the motherfucker, but it stopped him.

And PLFM would like to add... ... be careful Kelly.

OK Putrid

2009-03-12T03:24:00.000-07:00

Can PLFM just make an open request right now?

Cancel your OK Cupid accounts.

Today.

Seriously, every time I open a "Letters From Men" email and it starts out with "I have a profile on OK Cupid, and ... ....", I just know it's going to be trouble.

It's never that the OK Cupid guy ended up "quirky" or a just a little too possessive on a date, it's usually something more like the guy routinely snacked on congealed squares of kitty litter stored in his sock, spent the entire date conversing with imaginary birds of prey, or insisted that you smell his infected hangnail over appetizers.

Liz has been on OK Cupid for so long that she actually collects the bizarre responses she receives from the amalgamation of chronic masturbators, earwax addicts and dentally challenged suitors vying for her affections. She recently received an email from Chris on OK Cupid, who found Liz particularly attractive and felt they were well-suited for each other.

Unfortunately, Liz didn't respond promptly, as she had already accepted a date request from another gentleman, and had gone on three dates with him.

One week later, Chris wrote again.

"I wrote to you a week ago. Did you get my message? Why didn't you write back?"

Liz didn't want to be a total bitch and completely ignore the guy, so she wrote him back a kind email explaining that she had met another gentleman and had already gone on three dates with him, and was interested in seeing where the relationship might go.

That was her very first correspondence with him.

Can you guess how he responded?

Yep.

Chris immediately stopped snacking on dried earwigs, took the olives off his typing fingers, and fired off this congenial response.*

*(Somewhat edited for those of us that enjoy the activity of reading without the assistance of a Rosetta Stone.)

Take it away, Chris....

Liz,

I dont give up easily!!!

If your on your 3rd date and he is very nice? NICE.

Nice is not good. A third date should be "hey he is great he is everything im looking for in a man."

NOT NICE!! You said it not me.

One more thing, if your not really looking too hard you wouldnt be on here you would be thinking and planning to be with him.

My opinion is your not THAT interested in him.

Call me jealous yes, but this is an outsiders view.

You wouldnt be on here if you were really in love with him. Your looking for something better dont lie. You dont even realize it. I know its tough not to check the site when your getting a ton of messages according to you. I would keep checking to if i was you.

Who knows, Richard Gere from pretty woman might message you.

In closing you know im right. Who else is going to be this honest with you!

Hmmmmm.

Considering he's posted on OK Cupid, I think he took it pretty well.

Though I wouldn't exactly want to be an "eye of newt" in his apartment after this exchange.

The scary thing is, someone might eventually agree to go out with this guy.

2009-03-10T02:08:00.000-07:00

Laura is a single gal looking for love. She recently posted an ad on a popular dating site, and soon began conversing with a man named Keith.

Keith told Laura he was "mesmerized" by her smile, and she was exactly the type of woman he had been looking for. Although Laura found him a bit socially "off" and needy at first, she enjoyed his intellect and began to converse with him briefly over the next couple of nights.

Deep into the relationship (which would be the third night they IM'ed each other), Keith began to intrusively probe Laura about her past relationships. Laura hesitated in responding because she really didn't know Keith that well, or really at all for that matter. She was sensing an overwhelming neediness from Keith already, and felt pretty cautious about revealing anything about herself to him.

She told him a little information- her ex had left her and returned to his ex-girlfriend. He wanted to know if Laura would ever take her ex back, and she said no. Keith then began badgering Laura to meet him for coffee so he could start being clingy with her in person. Laura wasn't comfortable meeting Keith yet, and began dropping excuses like M&M's in a forest.

"I am willing to meet you with zero notice at any time this week," Keith told her before she signed off, revealing not only his obsessive personality, but also his apparent lack of hobbies, friends, and employment opportunities.

Their three-day online relationship, Laura decided, was over. In a matter of three days, Keith had transformed from a charming intellectual to a pathological and clingy little boy.

And the next morning, Laura had an email sitting in her inbox.

From Keith.

You decide.

A little overanxious after three nights of instant messages, perhaps?

Laura,

I'm not sure that it would be very good for me at all if we started to get to know each other, and he returned and wanted to be with you; there has been enough terrible disappointment in my life in the last years already, and I would be disappointed, beyond words, because you are the kind of woman that excites me like no other, and I long for it more than I could ever say. I would love for you to see my bungalow, to show you my books, my signed Auden, make you a wonderful dinner.

More than that, though, is the almost unbearable silence and loneliness I live with. Please understand that I need to be with someone, to spend time together....I've had a few encounters that have remained completely online, and it ended up being quite painful, and it was better to withdraw from that...a prolonged hope of meeting someone, being together, is much worse, I've discovered, than simply dealing with being alone. (I know all there is to know about the crying game.) It sounds like the next month or two will make things hard for you - I understand that. It's OK -- we're just in different places. I hope you will understand how much I need, want, long for connection, for unruly Teslian arcs of mind-body discharge.

You're fantastic; if you would still like to talk and meet, I would love to hear from you. Someone wants to get together tomorrow afternoon for coffee, so I've decided to ahead with that -- no sign at all that she will be anywhere near as fun to talk with as you are, but then you're light years away from anyone I've talked with.

Thanks for understanding, When you typed LOL at my jokes -- I can't tell you how wonderful that felt; the Pompeiian ash broke off in chunks and it seemed I could move again.

Keith

"I believe I just dodged a bullet," Laura adds.

And PLFM agrees wholeheartedly.

The Graduate

2009-03-10T01:29:00.000-07:00

Today we've got a re-post classic from our horrifyingly offensive sister site over at Why Women Hate Men- The Blog. It's your typical dating site response from a complete idiot, one of millions we've been receiving at PLFM as of late. If you find a relentless river of idiots responding to your personal ad, feel free to pass them along to us. We'll take care of them.

Enjoy.

Reader SC recently wrote to WWHM to share something odd that occurred while trying her hand at the online dating world.

You see, SC is an exceptionally brilliant and driven woman. So much so that she has earned her PhD, and, like most people would, she briefly mentioned in her personal ad that she had earned a PhD.

Who wouldn't? Hell, if I had passed the third grade or had the ability to change my own pants, I'd probably include that in my own personal ad.

Anyway, SC didn't require respondents to have their own PhD, didn't mention what line of work they should be in, she simply mentioned it in passing.

Now surely most men would be secure enough with themselves to view SC's accomplishment with high regard, wouldn't they? Let's look at the response she received from a gentleman:

You should not state that you have a PhD on your profile. This could intimidate men. And if you choose to keep it on your profile, you may otherwise attract pretentious, egomaniacs who can quote you every line from Shakespeare.

Admitting that you have a PhD is not wise when searching for love. In fact, you shouldn't even mention it unless they ask. Such admission can steer good men away from you; believing that they may never be able to relate to you intellectually. When searching for love, one needs to be open minded. Be completely receptive.

Let's look at that last line again, shall we? Just for shits and fucking giggles.

When searching for love, one needs to be open minded. Be completely receptive.

I guess we don't need to ask him if he has a PhD, do we? Unless of course he has a PhD in the formulation of contradictory statements. Now, not to let a snivelling little insecure pansy-boy get a free slap at her, SC wrote back an appropriate response:

I don't want to date someone who barely made it out of high school, and I definitely wouldn't want someone in my life who didn't support or encourage me in my career.

Also, something for you to consider, you should probably not tell women what to do with their profiles. This pisses women off. Women do not like men who tell them what to do. The idea that a woman has to lie about who she is to attract a man is incredibly insulting, and the only kind of woman who would go for that would be a doormat, and I am not that kind of woman.

Touche! Next serve? Back to the idiot:

I though emotional love was primary to you--second to intellectual love. I'm sorry. I wasn't telling you what to do with your profile. (Ed note: Um, yeah that's exactly you did.) I simply gave my suggestion. I thought this was something you would understand since you're a professor; with a PhD that is. After all, a PhD means, Doctor of Philosophy.

If my constructive criticism comes off as "insulting" or "pisses you off", then I fear you may have to sit down a bit and find out why you've acquired this degree. Is your PhD degree a display or do you really know its meanings and purposes? Is it something you went to school for because you believe it would impress people or do you truly wish to put it into practice?

The number of academic degrees one possesses is irrelevant when it comes to finding a mate. You're a young professor so keep your mind open. You may become wise. I can tell by your response that your mind is not fully opened as need to be as a professor. It will happen.

Wow, he serves a heaping of condescension with his small, atrophied penis. Final serve back to SC:

You have no idea what you're talking about.

Well said SC, well said.

On a side note folks, we're going to be stepping up Psychotic Letters From Men in the near future. We're going to erase the "Men", and we're going to try and push everybody to out their psychotic stalkers, bizarre creepers, and pathetic exes. We've already got the domain up and going, and we'll let you know when the new site comes up.

In the meantime, keep those letters coming, we're getting some great stuff.

Guys, that includes you, gay and straight. We know women (and men) can stalk with the best of the men, and we'd love to hear about it. In detail. We like it, we post it. For everyone to see. Fun!
Spread the word readers, and send us your letters, texts and emails!

-The Weasel

The Rebound

2009-03-09T01:01:00.000-07:00

Lynn had just gone through a horrible break-up with a man she loved dearly.

Destitute and depressed, Lynn realized she eventually had to uncurl from the fetal position, crawl out of the clothes hamper, and try to maintain somewhat of a normal life despite losing the man of her dreams.

Coated with a thick sheen of ice cream cartons and wrappers flung from high-calorie snack items, Lynn headed for the shower, cleaned herself up, and found herself a party to go to.

Now, a lot of us, myself included, make the mistake of running out after a break-up in an attempt to find someone to replace the person we have just lost. We commonly call this unsuspecting mark a "rebound."

And oh, what a fucking terrible job they have.

We use the rebound to make us feel better about ourselves, we use the rebound to listen to us complain about our recent break-up, and in some cases, if they're lucky, we'll even use a rebound to get laid. While the rebound might enjoy the sex, for us it's more like trying to figure out how to drive someone else's car.

So anyway Lynn's heading out to this party determined to have a good time. After a couple glasses of wine and a few whacks at the pinata, in walks Ron, a man she had met recently in passing. Now, Ron is completely not Lynn's type, but we must remember the equation we are working with at this point:

Lynn + Large Quantities of Wine + Recent Break-up = Ahhhh, Who Gives a Flying Fuck?

So Ron starts flirting with Lynn, and Lynn somewhat accepts the overtures despite the fact that she finds Ron a bit preposterous. She describes him as an overly pretentious musician- the type who takes himself way too seriously, and constantly refers to himself as a "musical composer" rather than a musician.

Because apparently, there's a difference.

Lynn sums up his musical talent as follows: "It sucks."

Anyway, Ron asks Lynn out for coffee, and in her drunken state Lynn was momentarily flattered by his proposition. She accepted, and later that week they met for coffee. Surprisingly, Lynn ended up having a fantastic time. So fantastic, in fact, that she decided to see him again!

We have ourselves a rebound folks. Book it.

And then... ... .. well. Here we go.

This is why rebounds never last.

Ron the superior intellectual musician who knows way more totally obscure bands than you do, began to talk to Lynn in a really condescending tone all the time. And the sex was horrible.

Not only did he constantly ask her if he was the best she had ever had in bed, but he asked it during the sexual act itself. The fact that she actually heard him ask the question might point us to the correct answer of that question, no?

Adds Lynn: "Note to guys: never ask a woman if it's the best they've ever had. If you have to ask, it isn't. If you're asking during the act itself, it really isn't. If the "Uhhhh..." response is the first noise she's made the whole time, then it really REALLY isn't."

Well put, Lynn. You're the best explanation I've ever had.

Bad sex aside, Lynn found him tolerable for a couple more weeks until Ron started throwing out the premature "I love you's," followed closely by an absolutely serious marriage proposal after three weeks of less-than-casual dating.

"Like any reasonable woman, I bounded into the night like a frightened deer," Lynn says.

But was Ron done with Lynn?

Would this be "Psychotic Letters From Men" if he was?

Of course not.

So tortured was Ron after three weeks of a lukewarm, semi-casual, completely unserious relationship, Ron immediately fired off a missive to Lynn.

Take it away, Ron.

Lynn,

I sit here writing this completely at a loss. Was I not good to you? Did I not worship you? I thought that you were different from whores past, but my heart is truly broken that I may have been wrong. All I wanted was to give you the world, to watch you bear my children, to die together. I thought that you felt the same. Those nights listening to you breathe next to me gave me singular joy like none I’ve ever known on this earth. And now it’s all gone.

You have broken my heart. And all because you “don’t feel it”. You felt it enough to go out with me. You felt it enough to lead me on. You felt it enough to add me to your collection of men you’ve shared a bed with. You used me and threw me away, and for what? For some dick who doesn’t see who you really are?

I thought you were the one, the woman I was meant to share my life with. I thought you understood me. And now I understand that I should have seen right through you from the beginning.

Know this: Every song I write from now on, every note my guitar screams, will be for you. One day you’ll see me on-stage, pouring my heart into the music, and you’ll know that every tortured note is all because of the lies and deception of a whore.

I will think of you fondly, and I will always be here if you need me. I don’t feel we have anything further to talk about.

Goodbye.

Ron

"I will think of you fondly?"

Is that before, during or after you call her a whore three times?

Anyway, so goes the plight of the rebound. They never know they're the rebound until it's too late. But Ron, seriously, you can't help but blame yourself. You honestly sound like a complete jackass, and next time you fall in love (next week or so), you may want to hold off on the marriage proposals until the fourth or fifth week at the earliest.

We've all been the rebound and used the rebound, so feel free to share a rebound story in the comments.

Roomies

2009-03-05T01:26:00.000-08:00

Due to an obligation, Mary spent a couple days a month in a different city. Not really thrilled about the idea of paying for hotels each time she made the trip, Mary decided to post an ad on a "roommates" website in an attempt to find someplace to stay while she was in town. Bed, couch, pile of milk crates, Mary didn't really care- she's hard as nails, and just wanted a goddamn roof over her head.

In a shocking turn of events, a man responded to her ad. Who would have thunk it?

Rob said he worked very long hours and was rarely home, but Mary was welcome to use the couch during her visits, and if his roommate wasn't home, she could even use the bed. He didn't have much of a social life (Ed. note: HINT! HINT! HINT!) and he would "enjoy the company."

Mary didn't need the room for a while, so she and Rob communicated briefly in an attempt to set up a meeting face to face to make sure that they were somewhat compatible with each other. He seemed normal enough, so Mary thought she'd give it a shot.

After a couple of missed opportunities, they both finally found a free day where they could get together for a meeting. They decided he would meet her after a class she was taking, and they'd go grab some sushi on his motorcycle.

The morning of the meeting, Rob called Mary with a strange suggestion.

"Hey," Rob says, "I thought I'd just get us a room at a local bed and breakfast so we can just eat, chill and watch some movies."

Hmmmm.

Well, Mary had a hotel room, and Rob lived in town, so that didn't make much sense to Mary. They were meeting for a business arrangement, not a date. She said that wasn't in the cards, she just wanted to grab some sushi. He agreed to pick her up after class.

At this point the author of this blog would like to call an intermission. During this intermission, the author would like to construct a lemonade stand outside Mary's hotel. Yet rather than write "Lemonade- 10 cents" across the top of my stand, I'm going to write "Hints- 10 cents", followed by throwing dimes at Mary when she walks out of her hotel.

Anyway.

So Mary gets out of class early, and sends Rob a text to have him meet her at her hotel. Mary goes back to her hotel and falls asleep, only to awaken three hours later starving and no sign of Rob. She texts him, calls him and emails him. No response.

Desperate for the rental room, Mary repeatedly texted and emailed Rob over the course of the next week to a.) see if he was ok, and b.) arrange to get the room. She never heard back from him, and Mary was convinced he had somehow been injured or killed on the day they were supposed to meet.

Two weeks later, Mary's at home studying, and guess who sends a text?

Rob.

Take it away, Rob.

Rob: what's up?

Mary: Oh, so you're alive?

Rob: what are you doing?

Mary: in bed studying, what happened to you, I thought you were dead

Rob: what are you wearing?

Mary: seriously, is this how you are going to play this?

Rob: what do you mean?

Mary: two weeks ago you blew me off with no word, I called, texted, e-mailed and even googled you to see if you died I thought you were dead

Rob: it was a bad night, one of my friends got fired for the place I work

Mary: why didnt you respond to any of my calls?

Rob: sorry, it was really messed up, they thought he was stealing money and we all had to go into work and be questioned

Mary: That was two weeks ago

Rob: well by the time we got out of there I figured it was too late to tell you

Mary: what about the 14 days since then when I asked if you were okay and told you I thought you were probably dead.

Rob: Ive had a bad day, cant you just talk dirty to me?

Mary: No, why would you ask me that, I dont even know you, we've never even met

Rob: but I need to relax

Mary: first you want to go to a B&B, then you totally blow me off and let me think you are dead and now you want me to talk dirty to you so you can relax?

Rob: i didnt blow you off, I couldnt help it that night

Mary: we are not dating, a B&B is not the right place for us to first meet and see if we are comfortable enough to have me stay at your place

Rob: I just wanted to go and relax, all you women think that every man wants to fuck you. Get over yourself.

Mary: I cant get over you waiting two weeks to tell me you are alive and then you ask what I'm wearing

Rob: I just had a bad day and wanted to have you talk dirty to me, thats's all.

Mary: its time for you to lose my number

Rob: you women are all alike

Classy, Rob.

Classy indeed.

PLFM Program Note

2009-03-04T01:51:00.000-08:00

This little PLFM experiment seems to have worked out pretty well so far. We've gotten well over 100,000 page views in our first month of existence, and we'd like to keep it going. But to keep it going, we're going to need help from you guys to keep sending us the juicy stuff. It came in rivers at first, but the really good shit is dwindling rapidly. If you have a psychotic, insane, pathetic or hilariously sad email, text or recording from a man or a woman, send it along to WWHM and we'll post it for the world to see. We're open 24 hours a day at weaselworden@yahoo.com.

Happy Birthday!

2009-03-01T23:34:00.000-08:00

Lucy met Rich a while back and they went out on a couple of dates. And by a couple dates I mean exactly two dates. They met once, dated twice, and that was it. They saw each other a total of three or four times.

Lucy felt absolutley no physical or emotional chemistry with Rich. He was too needy, he refused to pay for dinners, and had a surprisingly eclectic "why bother?" attitude about showering and washing his hair. After the second date, Lucy decided to banish Rich to the "friend" zone.

But he was a nice guy, so when Rich's birthday rolled around soon after, Lucy thought she'd send him a little Happy Birthday! email to brighten his day.

Let's just say it didn't brighten his day much.

As contributor Eva writes "It seems absurd that anyone would send anyone they've meet 3-4 times in their life a letter like this, but here he goes......."

Here he goes indeed.

Happy Birthday Rich! Nice having you as a friend!

"It's more than friendship that I want --all i've really ever expected or wanted was to be thought of and known that i was wanted by you.

Anyway, what I NEVER would want -- but what your note felt to me -- was an empty perfunctoriness. Maybe your note, if I could have heard inflection (and it wasn't a note) or seen inside your mind, was sincerely "warmth" to you, but I couldn't tell by those few words written, without a sound or anything else articulated or nearly any other action in a long while.

So, all I was left to conclude and think was, well, you must not care or think much of me then, if that note and nothing more even on my birthday was all you could meagerly muster.. Your message seemed no more expressive (or at least I couldn't tell it was) than from some random people whom I feel and care next to nothing for.

P.s. If there's nothing new or different to express goodly and warmly -- if there's nothing other than the coldness and distance I am by default assuming -- don't feel obligated to reiterate it or anything. it would dismay me to hear.

Fucking lighten up, Francis.

Needless to say, Rich will probably be getting one less birthday card next year.

Six Years Motherfuckers!

2009-02-26T01:45:00.000-08:00

LS writes in with a peculiar Facebook exchange she had recently with someone she had completely forgotten about. His name was Alex, and apparently he hadn't forgotten about her, and he wanted to let her know it.

Because that shit she pulled at the Junior Prom six years ago was un-fucking-believeable! That's right, six years ago! It's been hanging on him for six long horrible years!

It all started innocently enough when LS filled out a roving Facebook questionnaire that contained some random question about "the prom." She just filled it out and thought nothing of it.

Until.

She gets a strange email on her Facebook page.

From Alex, the guy that took her to the prom.

And not even the real prom. The Junior Prom.

Like that even fucking counts.

Anyway, she hadn't even talked to him since... well, ... the end of Junior Prom.

Did I mention it was six years ago? And they're 23 now?

Here's the odd exchange:

Alex:

Reading your note brought to mind something that's puzzled me for a while (Ed Note: Six years!), and you probably explained it at the time, but when you were anxious to split at prom why did you still insist on a couples' portrait? were your folks paying for it?

LS:

A) I don't recall being anxious to leave at Junior prom, but then again, I honestly remember hardly anything from that prom.
B) Was the portrait optional even? Doesn't everyone get those? I have no idea who paid for it.

Alex:

Well, you weren't so much anxious to leave prom as you were to avoid me. You were finding fault with my park job and right after dinner concluded, you kept your distance. That all wouldn't have seemed so strange if when we got in the door you didn't insist on buying a portrait (you paid for it). Not everyone opted for one, and we were a pretty contentious pair.

It makes sense if it seemed necessary. It just confused me at the time.

LS:

Do you always spend six years brooding over a girl who was inconsiderate to you when she was 16?

Alex:

That's an interesting idea. Why, you never asked someone why they did something puzzling? I included the details because you said that you hardly remember anything. Maybe it's weird because we rarely talk.

(Ed Note: They never talk.)

Me: No, no I haven't.

BP: Well, I hope you find an occasion to.

Jesus, Alex.

Get out much?

The Joys of Online Dating

2009-02-25T03:21:00.000-08:00

PLFM gladly accepts online exchanges from assholes trying to meet you in online dating forums.

God knows they're a fucking charming bunch.

PLFM reader SS had gone off to college her freshman year and found herself feeling a bit lonely. Late one night she decided to post an ad on an online dating site, but soon thereafter started participating in a variety of social clubs on campus.

Not feeling too lonely anymore, she all but forgot about the little ad she had posted.

Four years later somebody actually answered her ad, but the guy who responded obviously didn't have his reading glasses on. You see, SS is a girl that likes the boobs 'n stuff. She's a lesbian, and had placed her ad under women seeking women.

The man that wrote SS seemed very sweet in his response, so SS thought it would be nice to send him a little note thanking him for responding and being so kind.

She wrote:

"I realize that there's no truly kind way to write this, but if you had checked my profile, you would have seen that I am a woman looking for another woman, not for a man. You sound like a very sweet person, and I hope you find someone wonderful. But be certain to specify on your searches that you are looking for a woman who is looking for a man.

I'm sorry for any inconvenience."

Well that was nice of her wasn't it?

A simple misunderstanding, and a very nice little note to explain the situation.

He'll probably thank her and apologize for the errant response.

Let's see.

You damn freakazoid muffdiving dyke. Why on earth would you want to rub your pussy against another pussy instead of letting me put my cock in your pussy and exchanging ultimate pleasure, then when I cum in your pussy we can have a baby together. What is your problem? You dont like me as your man? You are a disgrace to the human species. Why dont you go commit suicide you damn cunt. Who in the hell in their right mind would hunt tuna???

What a sweet little man.

SS didn't respond, but reflects to PLFM:

"I think that letter actually made me more gay."

PLFM Presents: Fucking Nutjobs

2009-02-23T03:20:00.000-08:00

For those of you who have had the unfortunate experience of reading my other tragically offensive website Why Women Hate Men- The Blog, this little ditty is old news.

In fact, it's been traveling around the intertubes for over a year now, but reader KT sent it to me in an email the other day and I figured there is simply no way I couldn't post it up on PLFM. This, my friends, defines psychotic.

The man pictured above is one James N. Sears of Toronto, Ontario. If you're offended by his mortifying mullet and disturbing plethora of split ends, don't worry. In retrospect, those are actually his best qualities.

James goes by the moniker Dimitri the Lover and proudly offers a series of online classes teaching men how to meet, seduce and romance women. Which, as you'll find out soon enough, is quite ironic.

You see, James has some problems with women. Now, you might be asking yourself "Well, what is it? Is he shy, or is he impotent, or does he have problems maintaining long-term relationships?"

No, he has more of a problem with stalking women and, well, masturbating in their faces.

James problems began in 1986 while enlisted in the Canadian Army. After trying to force his way into the dorm room of a female officer, a military psychologist noted that Mr. Sears "had something seriously wrong with him."

A few years later, James weaseled his way into med school, where his psychiatric evaluation curiously noted that James often got drunk and high while on the job, occasionally masturbated while making "numerous random and obsessive phone calls to women", and exhibited extremely immature and narcissistic behaviors. His peers felt he was "cynical and untrustworthy."

Then they gave him a medical license. Just kidding!

No, I'm not. They actually issued him a license to practice medicine.

Nice job, Ontario. Perhaps you should take your own psychiatric evaluation.

But realizing the error of his ways, James was determined to change. And change he did, in front of several female patients. After a patient filed sexual assault charges against James, he pled guilty and left the field of medicine for good to become a consultant. A consultant offering second opinions on sexual harassment lawsuits. Ha ha ha ha, I'm kidding!

No, I'm not kidding. That's actually what he did.

Oh, Canada indeed.

Anyway, let's get to the featured entertainment, shall we?

It seems that our lovely James Sears aka "Dimitri the Lover" met a fine young woman one afternoon and she unwittingly gave him her card. James was fascinated by her beauty, and decided he must employ some of his fantastic seduction techniques to acquire a date with the lovely young woman.

So rather then spend thousands of dollars taking his courses on seducing women, why don't you just take a listen to some of his seduction techniques live and in person?

These are two of the messages James left on her answering machine. These are absolutely real.

Men, grab a pencil and a notepad and start scribbling.

If you'd like to read more about the wonderful Dimitri, you can find an article about him here on Gawker site Jezebel, and an article about him here from Eye Weekly.

If you'd like to date him, please visit here.

A Self Fulfilling Prophecy

2009-02-21T18:26:00.000-08:00

As a general rule, women cannot stand needy, insecure and smothering males. Psychologically, above anything else, those traits will repulse a woman faster than baldness, obesity, and lack of cash flow combined. Why? Because a woman, whether she likes it or not, is usually pre-disposed to seek the exact opposite qualities in a male.

On the whole, most women will prefer a challenge rather than the man that kisses her toes 25 hours a day. Where are you? What are you doing? Who are you with? He always has to check up on you, he always thinks you're cheating, he wants to know who you're on the phone with, and he constantly questions your friendship with male acquaintances. He is known as a beta male.

LB was serving in the Army. She was shipping off for a stint in Korea, and had been dating Mike for just a couple months. Mike was an ok guy, and LB insists that although he seemed a little too excited about her, "I thought we had a pretty good thing going."

Before she left, Mike began bringing up the idea of marriage and babies. After two months. LB admits she was pretty young, and "didn't know how to lay the smack down yet."

Learn the smack, ladies, learn the fucking smack. It will save you a lot of trouble down the line dealing with beta, needy, and smothering men.

So LB travels to Korea, and rather than isolate herself in her barracks all night thinking about Mike like she should have, LB dared venture out in an attempt to have an actual social life with her fellow service members, male and female. God forbid.

So after another likely long and boring phone conversation, Mike decided to scribe LB a bizarre and massively insecure letter to discuss some of the "happier things" about their relationship. Except he kind of got sidetracked on the bad part of their relationship (his insecurity), and then pretty much forgot to write about anything else.

I can almost feel his knees shaking in worry as he writes this.

I leave it to you, Mike:

Hey Mrs. xxxxxxx (eventually),

How's Korea? Anyway I thought you would be wondering why this letter was taking so long to get to you. I think about you all the time you know - 24-7, even in my dreams. Every other dream has you in it. Unfortunately not all of the dreams are good ones. I'm not sure if I told you but pretty much all of the girls I've been with have cheated on me. I know it's not fair to you but I can't help but having bad thoughts about you and other guys. It's just that experience has left me very untrusting. Well I don't want to write about it too much - ask me about it the next time we talk - I know I'll be too scared to bring it up. I want to tell you to quit telling me stories about getting drunk with a bunch of guys until 2 in the morning but I'd rather know everything. You don't know how hard it is for me to go every day worrying about this stuff. The sad thing is that even if you don't cheat on me is that I'll probably always believe you did. Well I want to get off this subject and on to happier things - just promise me if you do ever do cheat on me, that you'd keep those lovely lips above the wasteline. Trust me! That would make the difference between a storm and a hurricane. The thought of you having sex with another guy is nothing compared to the thought of you doing that for him. I could probably get over sex but definitely not that. Anyway - we should probably talk about it.

Well, I said I was going to move on to happier things but there's not much to talk about. I just talked to you on the phone 15 minutes ago. I guess I should just let you know that if I had to choose between you and air I'd be dead.

Love,
Mike

"Naturally," LB writes, "I promptly dumped him."

Way to lay the fucking smack down, baby.

You just saved yourself 10 years of hell.

You've Been Blogged

2009-02-19T01:04:00.000-08:00

We've all been there.

You've been dating someone for a couple weeks, maybe a month. Things seem to be going alright, nothing too out of the ordinary.

Yet.

And then it hits you out of nowhere.

The premature "I love you."

From a guy.

Now, I'm a guy, and I really don't have too much a problem saying it if I mean it, but it usually takes me at least 6 months or more to work up the nerve. Most guys are that way.

But there's something to be said about a guy who can say "I love you" after a couple dinner dates and a few rounds of Skee-Ball.

That something is "run the fuck away from him."

You got yourself a needy little bitch. With a penis.

Lachelle had been dating Chris for over two years. Deeply in love, Lachelle and Chris did what some couples just have to do on occasion: break up.

It wasn't the usual minor tiff, but rather the kind of fight where she dusts off the list of everything he's done wrong since he was a sperm, he ignores her furious ranting and then he smashes a pan or something, and they end up taking the dreaded "break."

So Lachelle just hung out with her friend Andrew for a couple weeks. In was a hot, torrid and juicy affair, if you consider playing video games, watching a movie or two, and maybe looking at some of his artwork "hot and juicy."

I sure do.

But nothing happened, and it was two fucking weeks. That's like, this Saturday and next Saturday, and that's about it.

Lachelle and Chris eventually came to their senses however, and rekindled their relationship.

But Andrew was left all alone with nothing but a shoulder full of Lachelle's tears and fond memories of that one night where they watched Legally Blonde and ate some pretzels. What a night of magic it was.

And .... well .... you can probably smell the cookies in the kitchen by now, can't you?

Well, it just so happens that Andrew is a blogger. What a fucking loser, right? A fucking blogger. I mean, who's ever heard of such a stupid thing?

Anyway, guess who had a sudden need to make a very important blog entry?

Take it away, Andrew.

I'm done with her. As much as I loved her. Yea I said love. You did once too then said I was being a bit quick to say it. Not anymore. You crushed my heart twice and that is one too many. I should have never given you a second chance. You were weak and fell into his trap. He is an asshole. You know that. One act of kindness does not mean he will treat you right.

I hope you feel accomplished Chris. You begged for weeks like a fucking dog for table scraps. Have your food. You called over and over. She gave in. You called every fucking minute. More annoying then anything. She did nothing. I hope you feel happy. I bet you do. Thats good. Im upset. Youre pry hard as a rock at that thought. I dont care anymore. I do and I dont. I care this had to happen to me but I dont care what happens now. I just know you both will be misreble and in the end never be happy with your lives.

Lachelle. You made a mistake. You know it. I dont know how you let it happen. I treated you so well. I did everything right. Everything I possibly could to make you happy and treat you right. He wont do that. He never did and yet you went back? Good luck with that. Not to sound cocky but I feel I was of some quality and you just used me. You fucking used me and betrayed me. Oh Chris you like that thought dont you. I bet you do you little fucker.

So you two. Go get married have a few retarded children that have to live on machines or are too incompetent to function a normal life due to their parents lack of intelligence. Have a wonderful american deam.

Listen, I sound harsh in these words. My feelings were true. I loved you. I cared for you beyond everything else. But this is how you treat me in return. I hope you feel aweful, I know you do. Your going to feel even worse when I say I never want to talk to you ever again beyond the friendly hello or light chat. Apparntly we cant handle anything beyond that because I not you I end up getting fucked over. So have fun. I'm going to go drink some 151 now to try and forget this ever happened.

Best Regards

Andrew

And for the record, Lachelle never said she loved him. Because she never did. And never would.

But was Andrew done?

No.

So fond he was of his brilliance, he also posted it on a MySpace bulletin board for all to see, and then on her MySpace page just in case she didn't happen to catch it the first two times around.

Nice job Andrew.

But that's not what makes you the bitch.

What makes you the bitch is saying "I never want to talk to you ever again... beyond the friendly hello or light chat."

Way to leave yourself open for more abuse. Put your fucking alpha pants back on, sister.

Feel free to post in the comments how early is too early for someone to say "I love you."

My vote? You say it in the first two months, you're out.