An Open Letter to My Date of Last Friday

From the New York Press: an itemized checklist apology for the most uncomfortable date you'll ever have.

Art by Thomas Pitilli

"Dear Bradford,

1.  I stole your camera, the one you used to steal a photo of me naked drinking from my flask in your bed.  It was only fair. I developed the pictures with every intention of returning them to you (with mine removed, of course). I was half-disappointed/half-excited to find the roll did not consist exclusively of naked girls in your bed looking surprised—just as I’d been when you’d ordered me to say “Cheese!” I guess I misjudged you. They were mostly family photos. From Thanksgiving? Your mom seems nice. Anyway, sorry about that. I like the one of you peeing, by the way, though it came out a bit blurry. I’d had to snap it in a hurry, worried you might turn around at any moment and completely ruin the naturalness I’d worked to capture in the shot.  I tried to get another one of you the following morning, but you had locked the door that time. Anyway, they are doubles—a deal at K-mart.

2. I also stole five cigarettes; I wanted to smoke five at once, like a five-pronged cigar, in the morning while you were in the shower. I figured it was the equivalent of you stealing my last one last week at my place before you slipped out the door. I have enclosed five cigarettes in this package along with the photos as a gesture of my goodwill.

3. I left some breakfast for you on your coffee table: beef jerky and Gummi Bears. Did you like it? I picked it up from the dollar store (along with a tiny bottle labeled “Spanish Fly,” some disappearing ink and a Whoopee Cushion) while on my way to your place Friday, already having an idea you wouldn’t ask me to dine in the morning. Presumptuous? Sorry if you found it so.

READ MORE