[Letter Talk] Mail Bag #6 – Valentine’s Day Special

Happy Valentine’s Day, squad! In this romantic episode you’ll hear a note about love lost, an appeal to the Valentine’s Day authority, and a letter to my sweetie.


To Whom It May Concern:

I feel so depressed and defeated… and like a huge idiot. Often when you get out of a situation that wasn’t right for you, there’s a voice in your head saying “I should have known better. I knew this was going to happen.”

But instead, you try. You try so hard because all you want is to look across the dinner table and feel all the love in your heart, and have that love look back at you.

I loved you, I really did, even if you didn’t love me back. I tried really hard, and that’s all I wanted. I lost a lot of sleep thinking about this and had plenty of nightmares from anxiety. My body just won’t allow me the opportunity to be a match with you.

I’m so sorry to finally admit that I will have to give up eating the spicy tenders at your fine establishment, Popeye’s. The spicy tenders are just not right for me. No matter how much I love them, they will never love me back, as shown by the awful shitstorms they cause me the next day.

I hope you will understand that I must order these tenders mild going forward.

Tonight I will probably lay in bed weeping that I’m sorry to the universe for whatever I had done to cause it to inflict this pain on me. At the very least I know that doing the right thing will allow me to sleep at night.

I’m sorry it had to end like this. I know it’s not any consolation, but I’m just as miserable as you are.

I’m off to bed, where I can at least dream again, and I just hope that when I do it’s not about you: Popeye’s wonderful spicy chicken tenders.



Dear Hallmark,

I bet this feels pretty wild! Usually you guys are the ones sending out stuff in the mail. I wanted to send you this letter and wish you a Happy Valentines Day! Congrats on the success of this consumerist fartgasm!

I’m writing because I never know what to do on this day so I was hoping you could give me some advice.


I guess my concern with that solution is the cost of flowers, how shitty and awkward flowers are when they die, and how difficult it would be to gather the addresses of everybody I’ve ever had a crush on. Given that this is what we’re working with, how should this holiday be celebrated? Do I go full Gal-entine’s Day and only hang out with single lady pals? Honestly, considering proximity and amount of single lady friends I have, I’d probably just be drinking beer and watching wrestling with just my dog, who happens to be a single lady.

Or maybe I should hold a vigil for all my dead relationships. I could do a slide show like they do at the Oscars. …But I feel like the vibe might be wrong. Mostly because at the Oscars, the whole crowd probably isn’t happy or at least better off because these people are dead.

I guess the best solution on this lonely day is to sit down, and remember that between your friends and family, there is love for you. And you are loved and no mountain of cards or thousand dollar bouquet of flowers will make you feel that if you don’t acknowledge and appreciate it. So many people are out there searching for romantic love, but sometimes we take for granted the love we already have. …is there a Valentine’s Day card that says that?

If this day is about only romantic type love, would you be able to suggest a card where someone can silently lament the fact that they never got a shot with Charlie and then they moved away? Oh, Charlie, what a dream boat… they would say. Asking for a friend. Let’s be clear I would want to send that card to a friend, not to me HAHAHA, you’re so silly the friend isn’t me. Get outta here! Are you serious? Me? Haha, no way! That’s not me talking. You get some crazy ideas sometimes, haha. Oh you.

Please let me know your thoughts, I hope you enjoy the Christmas card I folded this letter up into. I didn’t have any other appropriate cards, so I drew hearts on this one as necessary to fit the vibe of the holiday,

With love and basketball,


Dear AJ,

It’s kind of weird to be writing a letter to someone you’re in the same room with, but then again it’s also weird to write a letter to your dog. The truth is, Valentine’s Day is coming up and I had to think long and hard about who I wanted to write to. Who do I love the most? Who has been there for me every day? Who keeps me warm and snuggles with me at night? Who am I excited to see after a long day at work? Who is my life partner? It’s you!

When I decided I wanted a dog, I met quite a few and you were the only one that felt like my dog. You were the one. Earlier that day I held a shaking Chihuahua who looked very surprised. Her eyeballs were so big and sticking out I thought they wanted to high five me. She was a cute dog, but it didn’t feel right. My first thought was “This feels stupid.” …which is basically my way of saying something is not for me. For example, I once tried vegan lunchmeat and immediately said, “This tastes stupid.” The last time I was car shopping I tried sitting in the drivers seat of a Mini Cooper and immediately said, “I feel stupid.”

But AJ, meeting you didn’t feel stupid… it felt right… although it probably looked stupid. You were placed in a little square play pen with me and you were so cute and excited. You came to hop on me, then immediately just started running back and forth, bouncing off the sides like a pro wrestler. I decided your name would be AJ, after the WWE Women’s Champion AJ Lee.

Sometimes I worry that I’m not good enough to be your owner. Of course I try really hard, but I’m not the best dog trainer, and Jack Russells tend to be notoriously… dickheaded. Or rather, stubborn. I feel like I’ve mostly lost the battle of ever getting you to not jump on people in excitement when they talk to you. How am I supposed to do that? Make you less lovable? Should I put a mask on you that will make you look like Bane from Batman? If anything that might make you more lovable because I’m sure you’d just learn to do the Bane voice just to show me up.

I’m also too non confrontational to tell people not to touch you. You seem so happy when people pet you, I don’t want to shit on that. I feel like I already party poop on you quite a bit. I’m constantly telling you that you can’t eat shit off the ground, and sometimes I can get brutally honest when you ask me for constructive feedback on your memoir manuscripts. I remember talking to my old roommate and saying “I don’t even know if AJ likes me.” She was flabbergasted and said I was the only dog owner that has ever thought that… but that can’t be—I’m sure there has been a case or two where a dog got mad and ate their owners in an act reminiscent of the Menendez brothers. I’m sure if I were in that situation my FIRST thought would be, “I don’t even know if my dog likes me.” My second thought would be, “Wow, getting eaten and killed by my own dog is truly a bummer.”

I’m glad I don’t have to worry about that, because number 1: you’re 15 pounds. If you got weird I could pick you up and place you on a high shelf where you can’t bother me. And number 2: I could never see you doing that to a person because you’re the sweetest dog I’ve ever known. I feel like you’re constantly trolling me and my friends, but you’re sweet and there for me when I really need you. You’re also so charismatic that you got invited to a house party the first weekend we lived in Baltimore.

AJ, when you were still a puppy I would think, “Why did I get a dog, I’m so stupid, I don’t know what I’m doing. It was easier as a kid because we had four people taking care of two dogs. Two people per dog is great, but that’s actually how would we should be distributing home health care workers for humans.” But seeing that you’ve grown into a wonderful adult dog, who doesn’t pee on my floor or eat my clothes anymore, I’m thankful to have you around. I love you so much that I fear the day that you’ll leave my life, which is statistically sooner than I would like. But honestly I think about that every time you annoy me. “You know, this dog is going to be dead someday and you’re going to miss her, so maybe just enjoy the fact that you’re standing on a busy street trying to pull a chicken wing out of her mouth and looking like a psychopath.”

Anyway, I love you forever. Thanks for being the best.