A Taylor Swift Inspired Letter To My (Medium Sized) List Of Ex-Lovers


Let’s get straight to the point. It’ll be February 14th whether I like it or not. So, instead of being basic and telling you how I am “soooo over this holiday” while simultaneously stirring my luke-warm non-fat iced hazelnut latte, I have decided that I have plenty of people to wish a happy Valentine’s Day. Although I may not have a boyfriend, I have had everything in between, so I’m writing this letter to my medium-sized list of ex-lovers, who might tell you I’m insane, but I’ve got a bunch of blank Valentine’s day cards and I’m about to write their names.

To the one that got away: You’ll probably never read this and I kind of hope you don’t. If you do, you should know that I used to think I was in a Nicholas Sparks novel as I would look up at the stars and wonder if you were doing the same. Embarrassing, but true.

To my barista: Maybe it’s because I associate you with my caffeine-fueled-bliss, but there’s just something about your scruff and slightly pretentious comments that have me feeling some type of way.

To the boy who I almost dated: I know you’re probably out with your new girlfriend even though you told me you “really liked me” and that you just “don’t date.” I get it, I’m not the exception, I am the rule, and thank god for that. I’m really not here to interrupt your unlimited bread sticks, or to tell you you’re tacky and I hate you. All I’m saying is I won’t be the one bringing you microwave dinners in the future as you only acknowledge me to ask for another beer. I like to think Cupid did me a favor by not shooting you in your sorry ass.

To the nice boy: It breaks my heart that the horseback riding dates (with your mom), buying me sweets all the time, and finishing my sentences still didn’t make me love you. One day, you will find a girl, much nicer than me, who loves horses, cupcakes, and your mom.

To my future Valentine: I hope one day we will be sharing peanut butter and jellies at the top of some mountain, high off each other and the altitude, when we note absentmindedly that it’s February 14th. I can’t wait to learn about the way you still call your mom every Sunday, you always ask the waiter what he would recommend and you can’t go to sleep without socks on, or whatever adorable quirks you may have. I also hope you are able to move past the fact that I occasionally get anxiety about things I can’t control, I like to dance like a freak and I can be extremely corny and sentimental. I guess all I’m saying is, until I meet this boy, Cupid can save his arrows.