Dear High School Sweetheart,
Here's the thing, I want you. Pretty bad too. I'm pretty sure you want me too. The drunk text message that I get every night would confirm that. It sucks that you're in Carolina, and I'm in Colorado.
Not to mention:
you want to be a teacher with a stable home, vice I want to be a Pilot on a ship somewhere
you like tall guys, and I'm shorter than you
You want to live here, and I want to live on a beach
The previous John will probably make way more money than me, and he's a Redskins fan.
How can I possibly compete? Please hurry up and fuck me over so I can move on with my twitchy existence.