April 5, 2012
Dear Impossibly Cute Couples Who Stole Several Apartments From Us This Week,
I felt compelled to write this letter to you all because, well, my gut told me so. (And Oprah says it’s always good to listen to your gut.) I’ve seen your type at all the open houses my brother and I have gone to during our apartment hunt in San Francisco. (Which, while we’re talking about it, is so Hunger Games, right?! Such a little Katniss/Peeta fight to the death kind of thang!) But anyways. I see you.
Fighting outside like a typical married couple until those doors open and the realtor says “Come on in!” with an enthusiasm obviously lined with contempt. Your eyes widen, your shoulders straighten, your voices turn a tad higher, and your hands instantaneously become clasped lovingly together like you’d just die if you didn’t leave a crack of fresh air between your two now-conjoined bodies.
I just…It’s just like…I guess what I’m trying to say is…flirting is so not a good color on you. Even you, Pregnant Wife and Slightly Attractive Husband. (Yes, I heard you asking the landlord if he works out to in turn imply that you’d noticed his slightly bulging arms. Congrats on bringing your unborn child into a world of shame!)
So. I don’t know. I guess I should, like, stop before I go all Hulk and stuff on you. Because…see…I’m a NICE person! Really. But you’ve made me this way, and I’m upset about it. So I guess I should just end it there.
Oh wait. One more thing. Jeggings? It’s so not early 2009 anymore. And this apartment? Totally unsuitable for children. There’s a fireplace! And a balcony! I bet your holiday card is going to be, like, totally cute or whatever.
Never Yours, Jonathan
P.S. Please invite me to your holiday party. I want to see what you’re going to do with that disgustingly small back room that’s advertised as a “cute, quaint sleep space.”