A Dear John Letter to a Man Named John
Dear John,
Not only do you have a small dick, but you’re stupid too. By the time you read this I will be long gone, but I wanted you to know just how big of a loser you really are.
First of all, I’ve been having an affair with your best friend Jerry for five years. That’s right, I’ve had sex with Jerry hundreds of times — in every conceivable way. Sometimes we did it right under your idiotic nose. In fact, my face wasn’t flushed when I returned from the garden last night because the lettuce is doing well. No, that wasn’t the reason at all.
And remember last year when Jerry borrowed four hundred dollars from you to fix his truck? Well, we took the money and rented a room at the Radisson, and swam in each others juices for six hours. Boy, we had some laughs at your expense that night! Thanks for paying, sucker.
Speaking of money, our joint savings account is now empty. And when I say empty, I mean empty. Jerry and I are going to do some traveling with it. Thanks again. You’re too generous. Maybe we’ll send you a postcard, if we can stop screwing long enough!
Oh yeah, and remember that time you were drunk, and thought you were being cute by taking off your pants and walking around the kitchen with a bottle of peppercorns hanging out of your ass? Well, if you recall, I took a picture of that wonderful sight — and now all your co-workers have their very own copy. No need to thank me. Really.
One last thing before I go: your beloved son Cory is not really your child. He’s your father’s!
So long and good riddance, douchenozzle!
“Oh no, no, no, no… please god, noooo,” John sobbed. “It’s not that small!”
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Sucks to be you John! John, you should have spent some of that money you where squirreling away for some the Enzyte. By the way, my name isn’t really Jerry but your wife doesn’t know it. I’m gonna dump her and run off with the rest of the money.
I spent a night at the Radisson once, with three young ladies. Drank a lot. It’s all in my blog.
Dear John…p.s.
By the way…Me, Jerry and your Dad are getting together for three days after Labor Day. Have fun at your tin hat festival.
Who in the hell copied my letter to my ex-husband????
Bummer John! Imagine how many John:s there are out there in the world.. Men brought up not to know how to communicate.. How to solve problems with your spouse before it’s to late. Before she hates your gut. Before she hates it so much she thinks you deserve all this humiliation.. Imagine how many wives out there sinking this low..ah screw them all! I’m never getting married! Imagine them at their wedding day, promising each other all that crap.. sheesh..
I’m thinking on either becoming a nun or Samantha in Sex and the city..
haven’t chosen yet..
I feel sorry for John…