If you’ve made it this far it means you’ve gotten a kick out of me making a fool of myself.
And the fun isn’t over yet!
Your girl actually went for the trifecta and made a total ass out of myself one last time.
Two times wasn’t enough.
I mailed a creepy love poem again.
Third time’s the charm, right?
Or is it three strikes you’re out?
One of the loveliest things about being single is getting to experience the world of dating apps.
They’re just glorious.
While most interactions on Tinder and Bumble consist of lame pick-up lines and the ever so successful opener of, “Hey, how are you?” followed by never speaking again, I did recently engage in a conversation that actually sparked my interest.
Homeboy hit me with some quick compliments, we conversed in some cheeky banter, and we shared a little spiel about ourselves.
No wonder he seemed to always say the right things, he was a salesman.
I’ve never been able to take salespeople seriously.
Someone who sells shit for a living is programmed to tell you what you want to hear.
To get you to trust them.
To me that’s an immediate signal to tread on the side of caution.
But I continued with our banter.
Not long into the conversation did he make a joking comment about being pen pals.
Naturally I jumped at the opportunity to share my secret affinity of creepy love letters.
He couldn’t believe I’d actually mailed out love poems to people.
He quickly asked if I’d send him one.
After some jokes about me being a psycho and showing up to his door, and contemplating if it was worth sending my address to a stranger, I decided to go for it.
Cuz I make smart choices.
I mean the guy lived in Tampa, and he’s sending me his address first.
He’s risking his safety before I do.
Besides, I was determined to receive a love letter in return.
Could this guy be the one?!
His excitement shined through the Bumble app as we promised to write each other.
I bid him a farewell and took to paper to write out my seductive letter.
Had to cover the basics.
Please don’t murder me.
That kind of stuff.
But this was my third letter.
It kind of felt like my anniversary. I needed to spice this one up.
And I also wanted to be an ass.
Because this was a bumble boy.
And a salesman.
And I didn’t really trust his commitment to this.
So, let’s just see.
I wanted to glitter bomb his ass.
So that’s what I did.
I took a hunk of annoying ass glitter that lingers for all of eternity and shoved that shit inside the envelope.
Plus, I’ve always wanted to glitter bomb someone.
After taking a picture of my proud creation and pressing on a stamp, I placed that baby in the mail.
The next few days I sat proud of my spunky accomplishment, waiting for the day he’d *hopefully* open that sucker in the car and is forced to think of me every single time he drives.
I let him know to look out for some mail.
After another assurance that I too would be getting a rhyming poem, I was getting excited.
Because, yea, a notification that your profile picture was liked is cool and all, but have you ever received a hand-written love poem in the mail???
Yea, me neither.
So I was stoked.
Finally the day came where I received a Bumble message from Homeboy.
The letter had arrived!
His response was everything I had wanted.
I wanted a mess.
I wanted him bewildered.
I wanted to be different.
And I wanted a damn love poem in the mail.
And that’s what he promised. He promised he’d write me back.
I was ready.
Homeboy the Salesman promised out of his own fruition that I would be getting a love letter soon.
He said this multiple times.
And surprise, surprise!
I never got a letter.
He actually stopped talking to me all together after that.
I knew I shouldn’t trust a salesman.
I guess that’s what happens when you glitter bomb someone.
It stops being cute and starts being a pain in the ass real quick.
Kind of like me, I guess.
Maybe this is why people don’t mail love poems anymore.
Maybe this world just isn’t equipped to handle this sort of thing.
Until then, I’ll be here waiting.
Waiting until my next chance to hit an unsuspecting stranger with the words of my heart.
And waiting and hoping that one day I will receive a coveted love letter in return.