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Dear John Letters

Bidding Adieu to the Internet Lovers Who Never Deserved You

By Lisa Hamilton

POSSIBLY IT WAS DECLARING NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTIONS to find real love. Maybe it was the fact I was wearing pajamas on Valentine’s Day rather than a red dress. But whatever the reason, my life was not going in the direction I had envisioned. Like a freeze frame moment, stepping out of your own life looking in as an observer asking the obvious…what are you doing? Do you see yourself? Something’s gotta change!

It was indeed the New Year, and time to “clean house” from all the go nowhere online daters that put my life in a holding pattern like a bad movie, you keep watching hoping that all your invested time will pan out in the end. Yet, waiting for the anticipated happy ending was just not worth it anymore. Quite the contrary, like a slow leak, it was draining all the happy out of me. I decided right then and there, to cut bait, or to put it in cyber terms, cut byte.

It was time for the Dear John letters

Waking up at 2:00 am I started devising my escape plan, to gently inform my “cyber dates’ that this fish was not byting any longer. Though there were a plethora of potentials, after waiting a year for something to blossom, it seemed less and less

probable. I was looking for a real romance, not what I deemed a “textmance” where you fall in love with a photoshopped picture from 10 years prior, and frankly if you actually saw the “real person’ on the street they would be unrecognizable.

I was textmanced, and for that matter phonemanced done, put a fork in it …finito. Though it was in the middle of the night, my decision exhilarated me and so propping up my pillow, I started drafting my first series of The Dear John letters.

This was brilliant. I took all my cyber textmances, categorizing each into proper profiles.

Mr. Eternal Texter

The one who fills up gaps during his day by endlessly texting in his downtown (probably in route while driving) which provides him with a sense of relationship. He prides himself on how cost effective his non-dating life is, as he has never really taken you out on a date. Though his juggling ability to text while watching his favorite game on t.v.is impressive.

→To him I wrote: Our texting relationship has exhausted its gigabytes, and has reached its capacity. i feel at this point it is necessary to hit the shut down button, and possibly in the future should you decide to call me without your game on in the background, we might have a chance to restart. From now on I will cut and paste my last reply as a time saver. Should you finally discover that my response is automated call me. For now…. au revoir….

Mr. Nice Guy that Never Initiates

You know the guy who is either shy, insecure, or hiding something (most likely his wife.) Though his niceties are flattering at first, the hopeful cyber flirting falls as flat as day old champagne where all the bubbles have burst long ago. Starting the day with good morning! and then 10 hours later ..sweet dreams….with nothing in between, feels like eating a mayonnaise sandwich with wonder bread without the meat.

→To him I wrote: Thank-you for considering me as a commercial break in your life. I would like to thank-you in person, but being I have never met you, that would be impossible. Should I ever end up in the hospital recovering, and need time to kill, I will definitely text you. p.s. don’t call me I’ll text you. Adieu…..

Date Me Forever John

His profile is the guy that ends each date with, “had a great time, let’s do it again.” though what he really means to say is… let’s do it again, and again, and again. Once on the merry-go-round the initial enjoyment becomes mundane when you finally recognize you are going in circles, and the once cherished merry has morphed into a tarry-go-round.

Pondering what to say, I started drafting my dismissal letter to Date Me Forever John, when suddenly, quite brilliantly I wrote:

Dear John…… need I say more?…..Thanks for the ride…Adios!

Drafting my good-byes, I sent them off to all my cyber dates as closure like ashes you throw into the ocean symbolizing fond memories and an end to an era. I was spectacularly free.

Revealing in my newfound freedom, I vowed to never strive again for romance, or try to fit together the puzzle pieces of my life. Life would come together in its own perfect timing, and the puzzle pieces that made no sense today, would one day become picture perfect.

I suddenly realized I had one more letter to write. And so I left for my favorite coffee shop with pen and paper in hand.

The Most Important Letter I Wrote That Day

Dear God,

It dawned on me today, that life is like a Rubick’s cube. Every piece miraculously fitting into a piece of the whole, with each one effecting the other. My life is a masterpiece, and you are the artist. I have been striving, waiting for something to happen, trying to pick up the cube again and again in frustration to force something that was not meant to be. I release all areas of my life to you, and resign from online dating, and quite frankly everything that I have been striving about. I want to enjoy the ride with you! Whatever happens happens. Que sera sera…..

Thank You,


And Then This Happened...

Putting my pen down, I felt a surge of deliverance, as if all my burdens had been lifted. Reveling in this state of surprising euphoria, I was suddenly interrupted.

“Excuse me,” I heard a deep voice say, “can you help me with this?”

Turning around I caught a glimpse of a man sitting behind me with the most intriguing eyes whom I had not noticed before.

Laughingly handing me his folded Sunday paper, he pointed to the crossword puzzle, “What do you think this word could possibly be?”

Returning his laugh, I moved closer to him as we both tried to contemplate the answer.

“Let me see…. 11 letters, starts with an S, ends in a Y, means: happy coincidence, good fortune. Hmmm,” I pondered, “let me think…..”

Of course, in an aha moment, “It’s serendipity!”

But I knew, there was nothing serendipitous about this at all. It was God winking at me handing me a piece to my own puzzle.

Lisa Hamilton



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