Dear Dotty,
I think something is wrong with me. I always seem to have crushes on guys that really just want to be my BFF. It is a continuous cycle. I meet a boy, I fall for said boy, we hang out all the time, I think boy may be interested in me, boy isn't... done. Then lather, rinse, repeat and it is back to the beginning. As if being completely rejected wasn't enough, the boy usually comes to me for his love woes. I.Hate.It. My recent failed attempt took it one step further. He rattled off some list of his "perfect" dream girl. She is blonde (so unoriginal), negative 80 pounds (so I like meat...sue me), has giant...well, you know, sings like an angel, smells like vanilla (yeah...he went there), plays every instrument, speaks Spanish and dresses like she just walked off a runway. Basically he wants Barbie to match his Ken and to be happy and tan together. Well let me give you a rundown about me now. I definitely do not have blonde hair. I tried once and it was a complete tragedy. My "ladies", if you will, are nothing to look at (literally...there is nothing to look at), I sang in school once and a pack of dogs ran through the auditorium and apparently I smell like hot trash because I don't use vanilla perfume. I really am a lost cause. Should I try and change? Do I work to develop these "fine" qualities? Why don't boys like me? I really am pretty cool. Every once in awhile... maybe... a little...okay, it is very rare.
Sincerely,
Poor Man's Barbie
Whoa whoa whoa... slow your roll there tootsie. Take a breath and chill. Now let's get one thing straight, Barbie is a skank nasty floozy. No one really likes her. They just pretend because they only want a ride in her Barbie Dream Car. While I'm setting you straight on that I should probably set you straight on all of the other word vomit spewing forth out of your trap. First, I've just got to say that being negative 80 pounds is highly overrated...oh and highly impossible. No matter how hard you try (or how much you poop), you will never be that horrendously thin. Next, if she really played every instrument than I would judge her. That means she plays things like the piccolo or that weird kazoo thing. All trophy wife qualities aside though, I think there is a bigger fish to fry Boo. Even though it goes against every thing I believe in, I'm going to say this extremely cheesy and cliche message. It can be found in many a yearbooks (along with "Have a great summer" and "Science class just wouldn't have been the same without you..."). That message would be this: Be who you are. Don't ever change. Although saying that made me want to hurl a tad, it is true. Don't change because Malibu Ken wants you to. If he is looking for the perfect girl, then that boy ain't getting any for a long while. Last time I checked big boobs and platinum blonde hair were not considered "finer" qualities. Learning how to speak Spanish and play the piano, however, are pretty legit. But do those things because you want to. Forget Ken... you do realize that he is 100% plastic, right? I mean... ALL of him. Another thing, maybe you should start hanging out with new friends. They all sound slightly toolish and a waste of your time. If you hang out with people like Ken, then you will never break this cycle. Lastly, I think I have said this a kabajillion* and one times. You don't need a bunch of boyS to like you. It only takes one. So go on my dear. Your life hasn't ended horrifically because some Oakley wearing, Rock Star drinking, sun tanning butt head (yes, I pulled the butt head card) doesn't like you. In fact, he probably did you a favor.
Dotty Mae
P.S. You do know that Barbie and Ken recently went through an unfortunate divorce, right? So whoever your friend marries, he is kind of doomed from the beginning. Just sayin'.
*kabajillion- what you get when you times kazillion by bajillion.
April 24, 2010
April 14, 2010
Dear Dotty,
I'm a senior in high school. My whole high school career has been pretty uneventful in the dude department. I don't date. I don't get asked out on dates. I can't talk to boys without getting all red in the face or stuttering. One time a boy talked to me and I ended up having a conversation with my shoes. I knew that if I had looked him in the face I would have barfed all over his preppy Gap sweater. Obviously you get how socially awkward I am when it comes to boys. Imagine to my surprise when my one and only male friend (whom I thought was gay), asked me to Prom. Yeah, you read that right P-R-O-M. That thing with the dancing and the dresses and the limos. Yeah, that Prom. I dance...but in the privacy of my bedroom and usually to the old Nsync Cd's. I have dresses but they are all greatly lacking in taffeta, ruffles and corsages. My version of a limo is a beat up pickup truck with rust spots and a pair of dice in the mirrior. I told him I would go, but only because I didn't know how to say no. So now I'm stuck. I have to go to Prom with this highly feminine guy, wear sequins and sway back and forth to cheesy music. In reality I would rather go to Target in my pajamas, consume approximately 4 bean burritos from the Taco Truck and watch Phineas and Ferb. What should I do? I would feel like a complete idiot for cancelling, but I would rather get my wisdom teeth pulled out than go.
Love,
Anti-Prom
Wow. They still do taffeta? That is tragic. I'm getting flashbacks to my Senior year in High School and I hate you for that. I wish I could insert some amazing story about me being some hot little number in High School. I would be the girl who goes through boyfriends like poop through a goose. There are a couple of problems with that story though. A) No one would even believe me for a second and B) that would be a total lie. Then I would feel guilty about lying. Then I would self medicate with Ben and Jerry's, Oreos, Cheetos and every other type of lard producing food. I guess from now on I'm on a quest to only tell the truth. We will see how long it lasts. We are actually very similar in a lot of ways. Man, I'm already regretting this whole truth pact thing. I just admitted to myself and all who read this that I'm like the girl who wears headgear (it's an assumption), barfs at the sight of boys and plays Pokemon (another assumption. Alright, alright...that was rude. I wasn't really serious. Truth be told (there I go again...being all honest Abe), I hated the idea of Prom. Notice I said idea. I didn't actually go to Prom. Instead I played Scrabble (against myself...my opponent didn't stand a chance) and had a Doris Day movie marathon. All while wearing my hair in pig tails, retainers and a pajama shirt exclaiming "I Pooped Today!" Sadly, my 18 year old self was in heaven. I had no desire to go and witness the bumping, grinding and raging of hormones. Then again... I didn't get asked. If I had, then I probably would have gone and stuck it out. I probably would have been beyond excited that someone actually wanted to go with me. Think of it as a way to end your High School career with a bang. So what if your dancing looks a lot like you're having a seizure? So what if your date might be swingin' for the other team? So what if you end up spending the whole night by the punch table (just don't actually drink the punch...who knows what sort of liquid courage has been put in there). It only lasts a few hours. It could fail tragically or be totally rad. At the end you can have your sweet prince(ss) drive you home and be done with it. Save Target and Fungus and Phlegm ( I have no idea what the name of it really is, but I'm assuming it is a cartoon) for the next day. So be brave my young friend. Wear that corsage with pride. Stay classy.
Dotty Mae
P.S. Notice I left out the Taco Truck. I'm sorry, but if your "restaurant" picks up and moves from one garbage dump to the next then I'm not going to eat there.
I'm a senior in high school. My whole high school career has been pretty uneventful in the dude department. I don't date. I don't get asked out on dates. I can't talk to boys without getting all red in the face or stuttering. One time a boy talked to me and I ended up having a conversation with my shoes. I knew that if I had looked him in the face I would have barfed all over his preppy Gap sweater. Obviously you get how socially awkward I am when it comes to boys. Imagine to my surprise when my one and only male friend (whom I thought was gay), asked me to Prom. Yeah, you read that right P-R-O-M. That thing with the dancing and the dresses and the limos. Yeah, that Prom. I dance...but in the privacy of my bedroom and usually to the old Nsync Cd's. I have dresses but they are all greatly lacking in taffeta, ruffles and corsages. My version of a limo is a beat up pickup truck with rust spots and a pair of dice in the mirrior. I told him I would go, but only because I didn't know how to say no. So now I'm stuck. I have to go to Prom with this highly feminine guy, wear sequins and sway back and forth to cheesy music. In reality I would rather go to Target in my pajamas, consume approximately 4 bean burritos from the Taco Truck and watch Phineas and Ferb. What should I do? I would feel like a complete idiot for cancelling, but I would rather get my wisdom teeth pulled out than go.
Love,
Anti-Prom
Wow. They still do taffeta? That is tragic. I'm getting flashbacks to my Senior year in High School and I hate you for that. I wish I could insert some amazing story about me being some hot little number in High School. I would be the girl who goes through boyfriends like poop through a goose. There are a couple of problems with that story though. A) No one would even believe me for a second and B) that would be a total lie. Then I would feel guilty about lying. Then I would self medicate with Ben and Jerry's, Oreos, Cheetos and every other type of lard producing food. I guess from now on I'm on a quest to only tell the truth. We will see how long it lasts. We are actually very similar in a lot of ways. Man, I'm already regretting this whole truth pact thing. I just admitted to myself and all who read this that I'm like the girl who wears headgear (it's an assumption), barfs at the sight of boys and plays Pokemon (another assumption. Alright, alright...that was rude. I wasn't really serious. Truth be told (there I go again...being all honest Abe), I hated the idea of Prom. Notice I said idea. I didn't actually go to Prom. Instead I played Scrabble (against myself...my opponent didn't stand a chance) and had a Doris Day movie marathon. All while wearing my hair in pig tails, retainers and a pajama shirt exclaiming "I Pooped Today!" Sadly, my 18 year old self was in heaven. I had no desire to go and witness the bumping, grinding and raging of hormones. Then again... I didn't get asked. If I had, then I probably would have gone and stuck it out. I probably would have been beyond excited that someone actually wanted to go with me. Think of it as a way to end your High School career with a bang. So what if your dancing looks a lot like you're having a seizure? So what if your date might be swingin' for the other team? So what if you end up spending the whole night by the punch table (just don't actually drink the punch...who knows what sort of liquid courage has been put in there). It only lasts a few hours. It could fail tragically or be totally rad. At the end you can have your sweet prince(ss) drive you home and be done with it. Save Target and Fungus and Phlegm ( I have no idea what the name of it really is, but I'm assuming it is a cartoon) for the next day. So be brave my young friend. Wear that corsage with pride. Stay classy.
Dotty Mae
P.S. Notice I left out the Taco Truck. I'm sorry, but if your "restaurant" picks up and moves from one garbage dump to the next then I'm not going to eat there.
April 8, 2010
Dear Dotty,
I've had an ongoing problem for the past few years now. I have really great friends, both boys and girls. My girl friends are all gorgeous and funny and smart. My boy friends are all single...and love girls that are gorgeous and funny and smart. I, however, apparently am none of those things. No, no, no... you see I am just the way for my great guy friends to get to my great girl friends. They come to me all buddy buddy with their fist bumps and pats on the back and then beg me to "hook a brotha up". It is actually really annoying and discouraging. Why is it that every time I meet a dude he is all about my friend, my sister, my roommate...heck, even my hairdresser. I'm just the jolly ol' friend/ love doctor. I think it is funny that the one person that has like negative experience where love is concerned is always being asked for some "wise advice". Should I just suck it up, stop being a baby and match everyone else up until I'm completely and utterly alone?
Sincerely,
The Love Guru
Oh come now, there is no way you would ever be totally alone. People buy cats to solve that problem. Lots and lots of cats. There was once a documentary where a lady had 45 cats and she was as happy as could be. Besides that whole fur ball problem and smelling like cat nip I hear cats are the way to go. Honestly, I hear about this problem all the time. Shoot, I've had to deal with this problem. I'm the perpetual "wing man". Or should I say was? You know what I did to solve my problems? Sabotage. Yep, I sunk to that level and I'm not ashamed to admit it. My guy friend wanted to date my best friend. So I told him she liked roller coasters, anchovies on her pizza and Miley Cyrus. When in reality ALL of those things make her gag if not puke. So what did he do? Took her to an amusement park where her motion sickness set in, then right as she felt better dinner was served. The delectable fishy smell sent her gag reflexes into high gear. The poor thing felt so awful that my friend had to drive her home... he tried to cheer her up slash woo her by playing a little Miley...or is it Hannah Montana? You never know which personality she will be. Needless to say the date did not end with a little somethin' somethin'. Instead it ended with her puking all over his shirt and an adamant "NO!" to his offer of a second date. Oh shame. Okay, so it sounds a lot worse when I write it out, but it worked. I have given up all duties as the designated matchmaker. If sabotage isn't your bag then there are a ton of different tactics you can use. Just play dumb. Act like you have no idea what they are talking about. You can pretend you thought he was partial to men and set him up with another guy friend (I'm actually rooting for this one. The results would be epic). Or just be completely honest and say you want no part of it. What you shouldn't do is fret about it. You may not have a million guys knocking down your door...but do you really want a million? No... it only takes one. So keep on keepin' on.
Dotty
P.S. "Hook a brotha up"? Really? Only white guys trying to sound thug say that. After you sabotage their love lives you should rub salt in the wound by making fun of them immediately.
I've had an ongoing problem for the past few years now. I have really great friends, both boys and girls. My girl friends are all gorgeous and funny and smart. My boy friends are all single...and love girls that are gorgeous and funny and smart. I, however, apparently am none of those things. No, no, no... you see I am just the way for my great guy friends to get to my great girl friends. They come to me all buddy buddy with their fist bumps and pats on the back and then beg me to "hook a brotha up". It is actually really annoying and discouraging. Why is it that every time I meet a dude he is all about my friend, my sister, my roommate...heck, even my hairdresser. I'm just the jolly ol' friend/ love doctor. I think it is funny that the one person that has like negative experience where love is concerned is always being asked for some "wise advice". Should I just suck it up, stop being a baby and match everyone else up until I'm completely and utterly alone?
Sincerely,
The Love Guru
Oh come now, there is no way you would ever be totally alone. People buy cats to solve that problem. Lots and lots of cats. There was once a documentary where a lady had 45 cats and she was as happy as could be. Besides that whole fur ball problem and smelling like cat nip I hear cats are the way to go. Honestly, I hear about this problem all the time. Shoot, I've had to deal with this problem. I'm the perpetual "wing man". Or should I say was? You know what I did to solve my problems? Sabotage. Yep, I sunk to that level and I'm not ashamed to admit it. My guy friend wanted to date my best friend. So I told him she liked roller coasters, anchovies on her pizza and Miley Cyrus. When in reality ALL of those things make her gag if not puke. So what did he do? Took her to an amusement park where her motion sickness set in, then right as she felt better dinner was served. The delectable fishy smell sent her gag reflexes into high gear. The poor thing felt so awful that my friend had to drive her home... he tried to cheer her up slash woo her by playing a little Miley...or is it Hannah Montana? You never know which personality she will be. Needless to say the date did not end with a little somethin' somethin'. Instead it ended with her puking all over his shirt and an adamant "NO!" to his offer of a second date. Oh shame. Okay, so it sounds a lot worse when I write it out, but it worked. I have given up all duties as the designated matchmaker. If sabotage isn't your bag then there are a ton of different tactics you can use. Just play dumb. Act like you have no idea what they are talking about. You can pretend you thought he was partial to men and set him up with another guy friend (I'm actually rooting for this one. The results would be epic). Or just be completely honest and say you want no part of it. What you shouldn't do is fret about it. You may not have a million guys knocking down your door...but do you really want a million? No... it only takes one. So keep on keepin' on.
Dotty
P.S. "Hook a brotha up"? Really? Only white guys trying to sound thug say that. After you sabotage their love lives you should rub salt in the wound by making fun of them immediately.
April 7, 2010
Dear Dotty,
I have accomplished quite a bit in my young life. I have graduated college, started a successful career, moved to a new city, bought a house and even have a bowl of goldfish proudly displayed on my kitchen counter. You'd think that I would be pretty outgoing, right? Wrong. I can score a 30 on the ACTs, complete a Sudoku puzzle in 5 minutes flat and even put together business proposals, but I can't seem to talk to the one boy that gets my heart racing. Not only do we work in the same place, but we even go to the same church. What are the chances? I haven't had time to work out the exact odds to that, but I'm sure it is somewhere around slim to none. I wish I could think of a ton of clever and witty things to say, but I just get all tongue tied. I try...well kind of. I went up all gung ho to talk to him once and then the you know what hit the fan. I acutally asked if he knew the answer to 12 across on my crossword puzzle. He looked at me like I had tentacles. I want to vomit thinking about it. He tries to talk to me sometimes, but I just look like an idiot. I think I am a terminal dweeb. I would rather watch National Geographic than go to the newest chick flick. My type of shopping spree is going to town at Office Depot. He on the other hand is so cool. He wears hip clothes, plays the guitar and speaks like 20 different languages. What do I do? I am nervous to talk to him, but at the same time his smile drives me crazy. I can't even concentrate when I see him. I think he is the Edward Cullen to my Bella.
The Dweeb
I kind of like you Dweeb. I think you are a lot cooler than you think. I mean, you're Team Edward. That already gives you like 20 points in your favor. If you had said Jacob, then I would have put you in your place immediately. Do people not realize he is a dog? That would be disgusting. Humans and dogs should not mate. They institutionalize people for that. But I digress. A little word to the wise, Dweeb. Don't put him on some whole other level than you. You make it sound like he is some god from Olympus. Yes, he plays the guitar. Okay, I do agree with you on that one. An ugly dude can play the guitar and then he becomes friggen Fabio. Uhh...not that I find Fabio attractive at all. Okay, once I did see a picture of him and I didn't hate life. What were we talking about again? Oh...right. We were talking about Mr. Fantastic. So he speaks multiple languages. Lets be legit, if he can speak 20 languages then I'm sure most of them are really lame ones. Do you really want him to whisper sweet nothings into your ear in that weird African clicky language? Enough about him though. Now let us focus on things you bring to the table. You're obviously smart, nice, friendly to animals. You can find my goldfish (still alive) in the toilet...right before I flush them down. Not to mention you will always have a paper clip readily available. As for conversation starters. Why not talk about the National Geographic documenta-thingy? He may be equally as nerdy as you are. Talk about church or food or the weather if you have to. Another thing I noticed is that he attempts to talk to you. Well take the bull by the horns, Dweeb and get your swerve on. I can give you all this advice, but until you decide to just be your rad self and talk to him then I really can't help. I think we should end this how we started. It always comes down to Twilight. I believe some of life's questions can be solved through vampires...kidding, but seriously. Edward had the hots pretty hardcore for Bella. I mean, he wants to take a chunk out of her neck like every time he sees her. Maybe you are Bella to his Edward...just sayin'. As long as he doesn't really try and bite you or tell you that you are like a drug to him ( that is the second to worse line... only to be beat by "hang on spider monkey"). Good luck and good night. I'll be here all week.
Dotty Mae
I have accomplished quite a bit in my young life. I have graduated college, started a successful career, moved to a new city, bought a house and even have a bowl of goldfish proudly displayed on my kitchen counter. You'd think that I would be pretty outgoing, right? Wrong. I can score a 30 on the ACTs, complete a Sudoku puzzle in 5 minutes flat and even put together business proposals, but I can't seem to talk to the one boy that gets my heart racing. Not only do we work in the same place, but we even go to the same church. What are the chances? I haven't had time to work out the exact odds to that, but I'm sure it is somewhere around slim to none. I wish I could think of a ton of clever and witty things to say, but I just get all tongue tied. I try...well kind of. I went up all gung ho to talk to him once and then the you know what hit the fan. I acutally asked if he knew the answer to 12 across on my crossword puzzle. He looked at me like I had tentacles. I want to vomit thinking about it. He tries to talk to me sometimes, but I just look like an idiot. I think I am a terminal dweeb. I would rather watch National Geographic than go to the newest chick flick. My type of shopping spree is going to town at Office Depot. He on the other hand is so cool. He wears hip clothes, plays the guitar and speaks like 20 different languages. What do I do? I am nervous to talk to him, but at the same time his smile drives me crazy. I can't even concentrate when I see him. I think he is the Edward Cullen to my Bella.
The Dweeb
I kind of like you Dweeb. I think you are a lot cooler than you think. I mean, you're Team Edward. That already gives you like 20 points in your favor. If you had said Jacob, then I would have put you in your place immediately. Do people not realize he is a dog? That would be disgusting. Humans and dogs should not mate. They institutionalize people for that. But I digress. A little word to the wise, Dweeb. Don't put him on some whole other level than you. You make it sound like he is some god from Olympus. Yes, he plays the guitar. Okay, I do agree with you on that one. An ugly dude can play the guitar and then he becomes friggen Fabio. Uhh...not that I find Fabio attractive at all. Okay, once I did see a picture of him and I didn't hate life. What were we talking about again? Oh...right. We were talking about Mr. Fantastic. So he speaks multiple languages. Lets be legit, if he can speak 20 languages then I'm sure most of them are really lame ones. Do you really want him to whisper sweet nothings into your ear in that weird African clicky language? Enough about him though. Now let us focus on things you bring to the table. You're obviously smart, nice, friendly to animals. You can find my goldfish (still alive) in the toilet...right before I flush them down. Not to mention you will always have a paper clip readily available. As for conversation starters. Why not talk about the National Geographic documenta-thingy? He may be equally as nerdy as you are. Talk about church or food or the weather if you have to. Another thing I noticed is that he attempts to talk to you. Well take the bull by the horns, Dweeb and get your swerve on. I can give you all this advice, but until you decide to just be your rad self and talk to him then I really can't help. I think we should end this how we started. It always comes down to Twilight. I believe some of life's questions can be solved through vampires...kidding, but seriously. Edward had the hots pretty hardcore for Bella. I mean, he wants to take a chunk out of her neck like every time he sees her. Maybe you are Bella to his Edward...just sayin'. As long as he doesn't really try and bite you or tell you that you are like a drug to him ( that is the second to worse line... only to be beat by "hang on spider monkey"). Good luck and good night. I'll be here all week.
Dotty Mae
April 5, 2010
Dear Dotty,
I was dating a boy. A great boy. A super nice, thoughtful, attractive and amazing boy. Notice I said "was". We dated for six months and then in the matter of seconds our relationship went from "we" to just me. The catch? His name. His first name was fine. I wrote it with mine and drew a heart around it...perfection. Even his bizarre middle name, Gunther, grew on me. But his last name is just horrid. I don't know why I never really paid attention to what his last name is, but it just hit me last week. If I were to marry him my name would be Mrs. Crotch. Crotch...as in, yeah...crotch. Dr. Crotch. Really? I feel like some injustice has been dealt here. A great guy came into my life...a great DOCTOR and then this happened. I miss him, but we can never be. I suggested he changed his last name to mine. It would have a much nicer ring to it and our children wouldn't be made fun of so much. Guess what?! He said NO! Can you believe that? Then he had the nerve to get mad at me. Why is the whole universe out to see me miserable?
Sincerely,
The Ex-future Mrs. Crotch
Let me start by saying... don't be silly, the WHOLE universe isn't out to get you. In fact, I'm pretty sure they could care less about you and your pitiful problem. If I'm being completely honest here, then I should tell you something. I actually think you're a tool bag. Sometimes I get in the mood where I just want to put someones letter up and have them humiliate themselves. Congratulations! You may not be the newest member of the Crotch family, but you have officially succeeded at looking like a complete door knob. The fact that you even suggested that he change his name is proof enough. You really don't understand why he was upset? You basically challenged his manhood, kicked him in the sweets and took away his dignity. You might as well have asked him to wear a skirt. So yes, I can believe that he would be mad. Okay, I know I'm being a little more harsh than usual, but this situation kind of calls for it. If it took you SIX MONTHS ( just to be sure we are on the same page that is half of a year, roughly 182 days, and a total of 26 weeks) to figure out what his last name was then you obviously didn't really care about him, you just cared about the status he would give you. In your mind you were going to marry a hot doctor with an equally hot name and have a brood of hot babies. Surprise! His ancestors threw a monkey wrench into your plans and now you are up a creek. Normally I would tell someone that if they really loved the person then it shouldn't matter...but I'm just going to be legit with you. I don't think you deserve him...Dotty say what? Yep, I went there. I think you need to take a step back and figure some junk out. Don't put this guy through torture. Let him go. Stop, rewind, repeat. The End.
Dotty
P.S. Dr. Crotch... if you read this I just have one golden nugget of advice. Don't name any child of yours Harry. Or Rosie, that just sounds awkward.
I was dating a boy. A great boy. A super nice, thoughtful, attractive and amazing boy. Notice I said "was". We dated for six months and then in the matter of seconds our relationship went from "we" to just me. The catch? His name. His first name was fine. I wrote it with mine and drew a heart around it...perfection. Even his bizarre middle name, Gunther, grew on me. But his last name is just horrid. I don't know why I never really paid attention to what his last name is, but it just hit me last week. If I were to marry him my name would be Mrs. Crotch. Crotch...as in, yeah...crotch. Dr. Crotch. Really? I feel like some injustice has been dealt here. A great guy came into my life...a great DOCTOR and then this happened. I miss him, but we can never be. I suggested he changed his last name to mine. It would have a much nicer ring to it and our children wouldn't be made fun of so much. Guess what?! He said NO! Can you believe that? Then he had the nerve to get mad at me. Why is the whole universe out to see me miserable?
Sincerely,
The Ex-future Mrs. Crotch
Let me start by saying... don't be silly, the WHOLE universe isn't out to get you. In fact, I'm pretty sure they could care less about you and your pitiful problem. If I'm being completely honest here, then I should tell you something. I actually think you're a tool bag. Sometimes I get in the mood where I just want to put someones letter up and have them humiliate themselves. Congratulations! You may not be the newest member of the Crotch family, but you have officially succeeded at looking like a complete door knob. The fact that you even suggested that he change his name is proof enough. You really don't understand why he was upset? You basically challenged his manhood, kicked him in the sweets and took away his dignity. You might as well have asked him to wear a skirt. So yes, I can believe that he would be mad. Okay, I know I'm being a little more harsh than usual, but this situation kind of calls for it. If it took you SIX MONTHS ( just to be sure we are on the same page that is half of a year, roughly 182 days, and a total of 26 weeks) to figure out what his last name was then you obviously didn't really care about him, you just cared about the status he would give you. In your mind you were going to marry a hot doctor with an equally hot name and have a brood of hot babies. Surprise! His ancestors threw a monkey wrench into your plans and now you are up a creek. Normally I would tell someone that if they really loved the person then it shouldn't matter...but I'm just going to be legit with you. I don't think you deserve him...Dotty say what? Yep, I went there. I think you need to take a step back and figure some junk out. Don't put this guy through torture. Let him go. Stop, rewind, repeat. The End.
Dotty
P.S. Dr. Crotch... if you read this I just have one golden nugget of advice. Don't name any child of yours Harry. Or Rosie, that just sounds awkward.
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