Upon request, I'm posting a version of a letter(with my own editorializing) I recieved at work from a source who later disclosed himself (not disclothed, thank god!) regarding an event which I did not exactly remember. The letter, and disclosure of its author, were soon followed with gifts of flowers and jewelry-- which were rebuffed tidily, if I might say. So, here's the letter:
(enclosed in a delightful card w/ a photo collage of sea shells and gulls. Oh, pretty!)
Hi Marjorie,
I'm giving you this because I owe you a clear (yes?), unambiguous (oh, now, I understand what you meant by "clear") statement that ought to calm any suspicions (there were none. now there are! funny how that works) you might have about how I relate to you. I'm comfortable w/ ambiguity (but you just said...), but I know that a lot of people aren't (am I being sensitive or was that accusatory?). I enjoy flirting, and I think it's harmless. It's fun (there was flirting? where was I? surely I must've been there...).
Yesterday I noticed you got this look on your face (stupid, stupid face!) that I couldn't understand, but after I got home and thought about it, I realized you were mad (are you positive I was part of this exchange?) because you thought I was hitting on you. I wasn't. I don't think it's wrong to admire someone's beauty and compliment them on it (surely I would remember the complimenting?). I'm too complex a person to allow two(hyphen)dimensional ideologies or religious systems (it was religious for you? My god! I AM hot!) to dictate the way I respond to people.
It's wrong to impose yourself on people (my, it's stifling in the Irony Room today, isn't it?). When women do that to me (my brain rejects that idea so vehemently that I can't even make fun of it properly), and I'm not at all interested in them, they go away mad (and this is what we call "foreshadowing"). They blame me rather than trying to understand that what they were doing was wrong. I won't do that to you or anyone (wait, who are you again?).
We sublimate our sexuality (Seriously? Seriously! Dated Freudian bullshit? By this point, you've gotta be messing with me!) in "civilized" societies for a reason; it helps us get things done without a lot of conflicts (funny, I always thought we get more done when we're getting LOTS of sex... ugh, Freud...). In Third World countries (,) they enslave women and allow men to act like assholes (They do? Where can I get some of that action?) in order to deal with sexual issues (OK, so, did someone actually HAVE sex with me and I didn't notice? I'm pretty sure I've never been THAT oblivious before). Flirtation is one of those sublime things that can get out of hand (or go completely and totally unnoticed when the flirter is several miles below the flirtee's radar), but you're perfectly safe with me. You can trust me, I'm on the high road (BLIP! BLIP! BLIP! Scary object has suddenly appeared on the radar!!!!).
As Bush 41 might put it (yeah, that's the way to win ME, of all people, over-- quote a Bush! Oh, I'm all aquiver now!), "just to recap", (Crappy punctuation is his. I no longer have the patience to correct it)
1.) Ambiguity (unresolved sexual tension (For the love of Jimmy! I do NOT feel sexually tense around you! But thank you for the clarification. I was lost.)).....Comfortable with it. (I'm thrilled for you!)
2.) Hittin' on ya.... not gonna do it. (Wait for it....) Wouldn't be prudent (oh, yeah, that was so satisfying. Couldn't, in my wildest dreams, invent it!).
3.) Flirtin'.... lots o' fun. Nobody gets hurt (until I crush your wee little, yet strangely inflated and self-involved, ego between my fourth and pinky toes, that is).
Sincerely, (unintelligable scribble that looks like a one-winged bug wearing a hat)
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