Dear,

You told me I was cute and asked for my number, which is not a good start in the 'me respecting you category'. I took you out because your name was Sarah, but I'm afraid it was downhill from there. When you finally offered to give me a blowjob, perhaps in an attempt to cure of my detached indifference to everything about you, I was almost tempted. Not because I found you in any way attractive, but because you were so pathetic and embarrassing that it seemed like it really would have sealed the deal in my quest to become a horrible person. Fortunately, even that tantalizing reward was not enough for me to give in. Also, you have a stupid face. Stop texting me.

It's really hard to watch 'The Other Boleyn Girl', because I can't decide whether I'd rather make out with Scarlett Johansen, Natalie Portman or Eric Bana.