Letters Never Sent- Vol 9

August 19, 2001

Dear Amy,

I know we only went out a few times, but I think I need to let you know, that I don’t think we can keep going out.

I really thought I had found something with you, but now I’m not so sure.

Sure we had a great time at the Zombie Fest and I really liked going to see your cousin’s play, although I’m not sure I understood why he was wrapped in saran-wrap, let alone why he was naked, but it was certainly something different.

It's not that you're not pretty, actually, you're prettier than any girl I’ve been with since about 10th grade, but that’s a whole different story. And I really do try to find the things you talk about interesting, sometimes a little over my head, like the way you talk about advant garde theatre, but you are very into it and that makes it interesting in a way, and I have never seen a girl that can crush with a bat in the batting cage like you, it's really intense….. no its something else.

Last nite when you asked me to come over to your house, I was thrilled and thought that we were moving on to a new level, but then I went into your kitchen. I don’t mean to be rude, well, I guess I kind of am, but your kitchen smells odd and I don’t think it would bother me, but when I went into your fridge to get a drink. It was well, your fridge. I opened the door and beheld only an onion that was reborn and had began to start a new life complete with sprout, some Diet Tab (which seemed redundant), a milk carton that had less than a ½ cup left in it and it was almost 2 weeks passed expiration and some old ketchup. I’m not saying it was weird, and I can’t say I have very high expectations of a person’s fridge and that should or should not be the basis of a successful relationship, but it was when I checked in the crisper to see if there was any beer that we could drink, you know something I could use to wash down that “cake” that you got at the street market that was made without flour or dough or flavor for that matter, and lo and behold, there in the crisper was what I believed what might have been a hunk of cheese (maybe Camembert based on its runniness), and next to it was something that had all the makings of what might once been a mouse. There wasn’t much left, just a little puddle and some fir. I almost coughed up the cake.

OK, I thought, clearly the little guy got it one day and she doesn’t open the fridge very often, based on the milk and the state of the onion, maybe this happened and she never even noticed. But I got to thinking, how do you not notice that smell? What could have happened to your appetite if you smelled that every time you went into the kitchen. It was weird, because before I knew what it was, it was just an odd funk, but once I saw it, it smelled exactly like old cheese and dead mouse.

So… not that I am too good for you, though my refrigerator is remarkably rodent free, I think, it was that I became overwhelmed by an irrational fear that you would have me over for some fondue and you would brain me with a blunt object and I would end up in a puddle like the little mouse in your fridge. What can I say, you have a lot of blunt objects in your apartment and perhaps you dropped just one too many references to eating my brains at the Zombie Fest. So take care and do have that thing in your fridge taken care of, we don’t need the black plague making a comeback in your crisper.

henry