Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Why Germ Relationships Go Bad... a Love Letter

Dear One,

It has become painfully clear that our brief but sweet 27-year-long relationship may be coming to an end.

No -- don't say it -- you don't have to!

I know I was too clingy when we first met. You were exhausted and pale after the Lallapalooza concert. I was just a shy young thing waiting in your bloodstreams, hanging on your every lymph node.

I know in those early days I was too infatuated. I stuck to your red blood cells like an insecure, trembling puppy.

I admit my faults: suspecting you of cheating with that floozy influenza and her whorish step-sister, strep throat... even the likes of slutty typhoid and her butter-faced friend, HPV.

I know, my love. I know I have been the one to blame for our tortured love.

But PLEASE. For the love of all that is bright and beautiful in this owe it to me and to yourself to at least TRY to make our relationship work!

After all, you've had a hand in our demise...

Don't give me that look! I've heard about your late nights at the coffee shop, listening to your IPOD and facebooking with friends instead of sharing drinks and tonguing your latest crush. Our friends Epstein-Barr virus (EBV) and cytomegalovirus (CMV) have told me everything. They've even described your late-night hand-washing, ridding yourself of my viruses, my cold sores and chickenpox... even my very scent on your skin from our love-making... all so that your mistress, Curell, won't have to work nearly as hard to sanitize you for her own lustful enjoyment...

You can't deny it!


Because I know all, my love. And I forgive you.


And if you can't find it in your heart to physically interract with others as opposed to blogging all day long... if you no longer love me enough to fan the flames of our life-long passion... then know this: It will INDEED be life-long.

That's right, lover.

After you're infected, I'm with you for life. But don't worry -- I won't call or stop by or cause any additional symptoms.

Still, if every now and then you feel a tuggling at your cold, black heartstrings... a longing for what we've lost... if you start to produce viral particles in your saliva that can transmit the virus to other people, even though you feel perfectly fine... just remember:

I'm free now, too.

Free to date and dream and infect the man of my dreams. Free to spred throughout him until I've grown into my own and he's perished in a coughing fit on his bathroom floor...

Ah, l'amor.

I will miss it so!


Your Mononucleosis


La Feroce Bete said...

I love it!

Anonymous said...

Thankya! Indeed, the Mono has had enough of your emotional and pharmaceutical abandonment.

Rebel Deb