Dear _______________,
I'm leaving you this memorandum because I wanted to let you know that I thoroughly enjoyed the time we spent together last evening. But although we shared a few laughs, exchanged pleasantries, and really got to know the best parts about each other -- my sharps wit, your superfluous tits -- you should know that unless you run into me in public, we will probably never speak again.
In any event, I wanted to thank you for the hours of emotionless sex; your vagina was truly a gracious host. I would also like to take this opportunity to apologize for vomiting on your stomach during orgasm; I've always had a trigger-happy gag reflex and sometimes it gets the best of me (if that didn't happen, consider yourself the lucky exception). There is a strong chance that neither of us remembers much of what occurred when we got back to your place and, quite frankly, I was probably blacked out for most of the sex. But later, when I notify my friends about how I railed you without mercy, I will mention that I not only made you believe in God, but that you will probably now require a prosthetic limb because of how hard I fucked you.
I'm leaving you this memorandum because I wanted to let you know that I thoroughly enjoyed the time we spent together last evening. But although we shared a few laughs, exchanged pleasantries, and really got to know the best parts about each other -- my sharps wit, your superfluous tits -- you should know that unless you run into me in public, we will probably never speak again.
In any event, I wanted to thank you for the hours of emotionless sex; your vagina was truly a gracious host. I would also like to take this opportunity to apologize for vomiting on your stomach during orgasm; I've always had a trigger-happy gag reflex and sometimes it gets the best of me (if that didn't happen, consider yourself the lucky exception). There is a strong chance that neither of us remembers much of what occurred when we got back to your place and, quite frankly, I was probably blacked out for most of the sex. But later, when I notify my friends about how I railed you without mercy, I will mention that I not only made you believe in God, but that you will probably now require a prosthetic limb because of how hard I fucked you.
Based on my prior sexual history and most notably the lack of any latex scent on my genitalia, it is a good assumption that we failed to use any form of contraception. I suppose I am at fault for that, but just for the record, you should know that I always keep one condom with me. I generally just carry it for luck -- like a rabbit's foot -- because I'm very superstitious. That being said, if you're not either on the pill or have not been rendered completely infertile (because you lived next to a toxic waste dump during your childhood), I would strongly recommend that you please use the $10 I left next to this note toward the purchase of the morning after pill. I realize the pill is $50, but based on the amount of drinks and shots I bought you last evening, I feel that fiscally I am only one-fifth responsible for your poor decisions. If you do not need to purchase the morning after pill because you already have the whole "not conceiving a child thing" under control, please donate the money to a charity of your choice. No need to thank me for the tax write-off.
After reading that last paragraph, you are probably thinking that you may have contracted an STD during the course of our sexual escapades; well, rest assured that is not the case. All of the girls I have slept with that I have spoken to again (a category you will not fall under) have all been tested and they are clean. The news of their negative results, therefore, must mean that I too am clean. That is good old-fashioned common sense.
In closing, I think our fluid exchange this past evening went quite swimmingly, and should we bump into each other in public, it is now understood that you will not give me any grief about not calling you, nor will you have the audacity to call me an "asshole" or any other unpleasant name. After all, would an asshole leave you $10 and a kindhearted note to ensure your peace of mind? I don't think so.
With Lust,
Waffles
After reading that last paragraph, you are probably thinking that you may have contracted an STD during the course of our sexual escapades; well, rest assured that is not the case. All of the girls I have slept with that I have spoken to again (a category you will not fall under) have all been tested and they are clean. The news of their negative results, therefore, must mean that I too am clean. That is good old-fashioned common sense.
In closing, I think our fluid exchange this past evening went quite swimmingly, and should we bump into each other in public, it is now understood that you will not give me any grief about not calling you, nor will you have the audacity to call me an "asshole" or any other unpleasant name. After all, would an asshole leave you $10 and a kindhearted note to ensure your peace of mind? I don't think so.
With Lust,
Waffles
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