Fun With Texting!

PLFM readers, today we're going to play a little game. I'm going to give you a recipe, and you need to guess what it is. Ready?

In a mid-sized plastic bowl, mix:

One (1) "seems kind of nice."
One (1) "pretty much keeps to himself."
One (1) "doesn't say much."

Stir lightly. Add one date.

What's the recipe?

If you guessed "a fucking psychopathic stalker," you win a pair of pants made out of the scalps of Brownie Troop #472.

Congratulations, and please remember to refrigerate your stylish new flesh pants.

PLFM reader Sarah writes in about her brief encounter with a man named Derek:

"I used to take my work to the Starbucks in the lower level of my building. This one guy was always there and he was kind of cute, not really my type though. So one day I ended up sitting next to him and he smiled at me, so I thought I'd introduce myself. He didn't say much but we talked little bit, I just figured he was shy but he seemed pretty nice."

"Before I left he asked me if I wanted to go out sometime which kind of shocked me. He seemed really nervous but harmless so we exchanged phone numbers, and I admit I was kind of desperate for a real date. He called me to see if I wanted to meet him after work the next day so I agreed."

"The date was kind of awkward at first because he just kind of kept to himself at first. Then after a few drinks Derek opened up a bit more but there was just something really off about him. I ended up getting wasted and he walked me a mile home."

And after that, Sarah and Derek walked off into the sunset surrounded by woodland creatures and songbirds.

Oh, wait. I forgot this part:

"So he asks me out again, and I said OK. I thought maybe he was just one of those quiet guys and we'd get to know each other a little better on the next date."

"The next week I was sitting in the Starbucks with my brother Mark who was in town and I get this text from Derek:

"hey u fuckin bitch enjoy ur date u hore i hope he gives you herpies"

Not to let some douchebag get the best of her, Sarah decided to send him a nice little text in response:

"Im with my brother you asshole."

Is the relationship over? Apparently not, because several hours later, Sarah gets another text from Derek:

"sorry bout earlier i didnt know so what time to you want to meet tomorrow?"

I would really like to be the fly in the soup of that dinner conversation.

But Sarah, for some reason, never texted him back.

I Don't Understand Why You Dumped Me

Katie writes in to PLFM with a letter she received from her abusive ex-boyfriend Paul after she dumped his sorry ass.

"I ended things with Paul after he said I was gaining weight and was turning into my mother, amongst other such nice things, including pulling my hair and saying nobody could ever want to be with me. "

What a charmer.

But a charmer he was in the first half of his letter, which had me sniffling into a dewy soft tissue and reaching out to children in third-world countries with horseflies drinking from their eye sockets.

Because this horrible woman, who nobody would ever want to be with, suddenly had him in cold sweats and tear-streaked cheeks after getting his ass dumped like fucking horse shit in a communal pea patch. Funny how that happens, eh?

Living life without her, he says, is "a terrible nightmare."

And PLFM hopes Katie's mom makes a guest appearance in that nightmare, especially after reading this fucking pathetic letter from Paul trying to win Katie back ....

Hello

You should reconsider not being with me, Im sure you can understand, that the longer this goes on, the less likely I am to believe that this is all a terrible nightmare that I will wake up from, in a cold sweat rubbing my tear streaked cheeks praying for the nightmare never ever to become a reality.

I am aware that, in cutting off our noses to spite our faces, we have said some horrible things to each other, and our egos have forced us to up the anti so to speak, and make the things we say even more horrible each step in order to provoke as much hurt on the other as possible.

This is something that we are both guilty of, and I am sure that you would agree. Let the records show that, while I’ve said some very nasty things, but it was nothing that’s not true. I did it to make you a better person.

You are making a big mistake not being with me, you will see. You will fall down the slippery trail of scumbag ex’s, I know being the slut you are….

I am sorry that I have been mean lately. I am sorry that I have let the pressures of running a small business in an ailing economy get to me so much that I take my despair out on you. I am sorry that I can't be the perfect wonderful every second is a dream boyfriend that you read about in story books.

I mean, it’s not like you are perfect. I mean, my friends give you a 5/ 10 and that’s because you’re with me. I mean, you aren’t going to get anyone better than me are you, you’re not exactly a size 2 anymore.

We both must take a step back, take a deep breath, take a good hard look at our actions, then think

What would the magical leopluriton do?

Why, he'd whisk you away into a magical dreamland and make everything better, of course.

And that is what, to the best of my ability, I intend to do.

Please, don’t throw us away, I know things can be perfect, if you just try not stuffing your face all the time, and I will be more accommodating of your rapid mood swings.

I suggest you think about it. Hard.

Paul

Way to let your true colors shine through, you ignorant man-bitch.

And as a gesture to you, here's hoping you get your fucking woman-beating ass thrown into prison, where some friendly guys in the shower will pull your hair while they treat your ass like a fucking clown car.

And Katie would like to know if any of you know what the hell a "leopluritan" is.