Open Letter to Ryan

Today's post comes from Sarah, or hell, I can't tell which. All I know is that she is hot...

Dear Ryan,

If I remember correctly we met briefly at an Eels concert a few years ago. I was the ditzy blond drunk on vodka tonics with a nerdy scientist in tow.

I don’t know you well enough to ruin your marriage, but I’m going to anyway.

I know you THINK you are happily married to a woman who adores you, but you’re not. She’s living a lie. I know you’re confused, so let me explain.

A few weeks ago Libby and I met at the pub for drinks and dinner. We had a grand time. We spent a few hours shit talking while gulping wine, because that’s how we Utah girls roll. We have a lot in common Libby and I. We are both friends with Yocom and we both could happily live inside a bottle of wine.

Back to my point…

When the bill came Libby refused to let me pay for my own dinner. I think it’s clear she’s trying to date me. Why else would she pour glass after glass of wine down my throat? She was trying to get me drunk so she could take advantage of me. Don’t you worry, Ryan, I didn’t let her. I was far too interested getting the goods on a cute guy she knows BECAUSE I AM STRAIGHT.

I apologize you had to learn of your wife’s indiscretions via a blog post, but it’s my only option. I’d come over to your house and talk to you face-to-face, but Libby would likely try to dry hump my leg and I haven’t shaved this week.

Enjoy your vacation.

Best,
Sarah

P.S. If it’s not too much trouble could you swing by Trader Joe’s and get me a case of Two Buck Chuck? Thanks!

P.S.S. Dude, you had to see this coming. She wears Crocs for hell's sake.