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Apr 15, 2008, 06:29AM

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.

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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.

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