***Not “Punch Drunk Love,” just “Drunk Love.”
Dear Dude 1,
You always text me when you’re wasted, or just a little drunk, or really tired. You love me at night and try to pretend it never happened in the morning. When you see me, I seem to be irresistible. As soon as I’m gone, you tell me there’s nothing between us. Make up your mind. Don’t call me in the middle of the night, and expect me to change mine.
We are not together and you pretend not to like me in the day time. Not gonna do it. When you’re around me, you lick your lips and stare at my ass (which by the way is magnificent). You can’t get enough of me. You think I’m funny and smart and sassy and “incredibly sexy… too sexy.” If these things are true, maybe you should admit that you like me and ask me on a real date. Get over it, you want to date me, you want to kiss me, you want to love me, you want to hold me, etc…
Dear Dude 2,
You are a douche-bag. Plain and simple. Boom, douche-bag. I will never have sex with you because you are a dirty, slutty man and I am far too clean for you. I’m not “that” kind of girl. Why do you think I’ll sleep with you? If you couldn’t hit it last year, you can’t hit it now.
Dear Dude 3,
While I love you compliments about my dancing, I simply cannot consent to bringing you back to my apartment. I have enjoyed dancing with you because you are one of few dudes who can and is willing to dance. I also really liked when you said, “Damn girl! You must be from the streets!” The country bumpkin in me appreciates being confused with more urban cultures. It was also funny when you said, “Damn girl! [again] You must watch a lot of B.E.T.!” I don’t even own a television, but I was tempted to say, “I learned it all from the Food Network,” but I didn’t know if you would laugh. Oh, well. I just laughed alone and in my head. You were nice and all, but trying to kiss my neck on a dance floor isn’t my idea of courtship. Not doing it!
Dear Dude 4,
We had a liberal-off and both won – me for my stance on marriage and you for your love of Lady Gaga. It’s not often I meet a guy wearing glasses (without claiming they’re ironic) in a bar. We debated your friends about Pharrell; they were so wrong.
I’m glad I kissed you.
Good luck in New York,