Dear man #1
I really miss getting to see you. You said the kinds of things that I’ll keep with me for the rest of my life. And you made me laugh. A lot. Frequently. I’m sorry if I ever said something hurtful to you, but honestly, I was just kidding. You were one of the very few people who made that time of my life worthwhile. I know that you’re going to be someone who inspires people for the rest of your life, and even after you’re gone, people are going to remember you. I’m going to remember you forever, with the utmost fondness. I hope you’re doing well.
Dear man #2
My friends all think I hate you. The fact of the matter is, there is a part of me that does hate you. Quite a bit, in fact. However, my lust for you very much overpowers my hatred. I can barely listen to you when you talk to me because I’m ogling, what appears to be, your rather strong legs through the fabric of your very nice pants when you cross your legs. Really– it makes me squirm. I stare at your crotch too. Just saying. And your hands/forearms, just because they’re so active, and I love the way I can see your bones and muscles shifting and moving as you gesture about. Don’t get me wrong, I like your face too. Your eyes look perpetually sad, and maybe a little bit like you don’t approve of most of the people around you (which is probably true). I even like your hair, but mostly because I want to fuck it up. On top of all that you make me feel completely fucking useless and stupid, which pisses me off and turns me on at the same time. And, and, when I’m not paying attention to you it’s because I’m imagining you fucking someone/getting fucked, like, really hard. Ridiculously hard. Someone’s bleeding at the end of the whole ordeal. I’d pay good money, and I do mean good money, to see you in a state of orgasm. It would be epic. I realize that this all sounds ridiculous and obsessive, but what can I say, you’re the only thing on the plate of my life right now.
Dear man #3
I really appreciate having you in my life. I also appreciate that you take my obsessing over other dudes in stride. You know it’s just mindless young horniness. You smell like a man, whatever that really means, and that’s just amazing. If I could fill a pool with that smell, oh man, I would straight up swim in it. Anyway, I love you. I think you know that too. It takes a hell of a person to get their shit together the way you did, and I admire that. In any case, I’ll probably see you tomorrow. I’m looking forward to the cuddles etc. Sorry for the rambling and randomness. I just don’t know where to start with you.
Dear man #4
When I look at pictures of men, and one of them looks even remotely like you,I pretend that it is you. Hell, there’s a half-second in there where I really think it is. This leads me to wonder if I like you so much that I make myself see you in all of these men– or, are there just a lot of men out there who kind of look like you? I think I know the answer, but it makes me feel like a creeper, so I’m just going to deny it for now. Also, if they were you, then you just licked an origami flower, modeled a thong, shot an arrow into the ocean, and painted your fingernails pink. Awesome.
Dear man #5
Please move to another state. Just...fuck off. You terrify me. When you walk by, I can literally feel my skin crawl. And for the love of god, keep your fucking hands away from my cleavage.
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