Dear ________,

I think it’s fair to start out by saying that you are a complete douche bag. Who spells Nick without a ‘C’ any way?

I find it wildly hilarious that you somehow thought you were the man. Let me clue you in to something, sir. You are anything but. In fact, your genitals are greatly lacking and your ego is as big as the moon. You know that day when you came out to your car after work to find a box of “finger condoms” (as we call them in the restaurant business)? My friend and I left those there for you after we decided to start calling you “Pinky Dick Nik.”

It was a shame that I wasted time on you. You were attractive in the face, which may be why I gave it a chance… the tequila helped. But the tequila certainly hadn’t numbed me enough. I remember thinking, “You’re inside me? Jesus, I have experienced more stimulation from my pal, Playtex.” So, I rolled you over. It was the only way that I was going to have any fun. When I kept saying “Shhhh…shhhhh” and putting my hand on your mouth, I wasn’t trying to make it hot. I just wanted you to stop saying, “Are you close? Are you close?” Jesus, what a turn-off. So I got off, hopped off, and was delighted to leave you hanging, if you can call 3 inches of pencil thickness hung.

A few weeks later you came to my condo for a party I was hosting. I had no issue with it. You were there with your latest lady, a bartender from our restaurant. I will never forget overhearing her telling another girl that sex with you was some of the best she has ever had. I laughed out loud, nearly choking on my Jell-o shot. All I could say was, “Wow, I am so sorry.” She looked at me with disgust as I continued to laugh. I am pretty sure you both left shortly afterward. Poor girl. I hope she found a thick one after you and realized what she had been missing out on… and why I laughed so hard.