Dear (Name Omitted),
I’m sorry that our date turned out to be a complete disaster. But you were warned. Yes, I realize that I seem like such a suave, funny, sexy, genius of a man online. But the truth is, I’m not all that suave. Believe it or not, I spend most of my evenings at home, chatting online and eating dry cereal from the box. And as for dating, well, I don’t have a lot of experience.
Honestly, I thought it would be really romantic to send a taxi cab to pick you up. I even requested that the driver be a nonsmoker. But since there is no such thing, I insisted that he only smoke cigarettes. No cigars. That was thoughtful, wasn’t it?
And what about that gift I had waiting for you when you got in the cab, the case of Butterfinger candy bars? Didn’t you think that was nice? I mean, who the fuck doesn’t like a Butterfinger? Are you allergic to artificial peanut butter or something? I waited in line for 30 minutes at Costco to get you those damn candy bars. The least you could have done was eaten one. OK, I’m sorry. This is supposed to be an apology letter. Maybe those Butterfinger candy bars were a bad idea. But you have to admit, they are delicious.
In any case, let me explain why I was eating my dinner when you arrived. You were almost 20 minutes late. How long is a guy supposed to sit around eating appetizers and drinking wine? Granted, I probably should have left my phone on when I got to the restaurant, but I find it rude for people to take calls while others are eating. Of course, you later explained to me—okay, yelled at me—that you didn’t have enough money for cab fare and that the driver actually backed up his car and made you walk six blocks to the restaurant. How is that my fault?
Anyhow, after I polished off my seared scallops (delectable!), I was kind enough to offer you the green beans and mashed potatoes that were left on my plate. As you might recall, you declined. But did that stop you from whining about how hungry you were for the rest of the night? Nooo. I bet you’re sorry now for not eating one of those candy bars.
Alright, I know this is supposed to be an apology letter. But you really made me uncomfortable, what with the way you stared at me all night with your brow furrowed so unattractively. What did you expect me to do? I eventually paid you back for the cab fare, didn’t I? And I didn’t even complain when you threw only $4.50 in change back at me. I mean, any moron knows that $25.17 from $30 is $4.83.
But back to the apology. I really am sorry. I’m sorry that you didn’t think it was funny when I suddenly threw water in your face. I’m sorry that you had to go to jail for assaulting me with a steak knife. I’m sorry that I couldn’t stop laughing as I watched the police officers tackle you to the ground (you really should have seen your face). And I’m sorry for pressing charges. I suppose the least I could have done was bail you out.
That said, I’d like another chance. Maybe we could have dinner at one of those fancy European cafes? You know, something cozy, but not too intimate. Just some wine, good food and a little conversation. Oh, and don’t worry. This time, I’ll take care of the cab fare.
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