Loneliness (except for a pooch, who doesn't really count)

Attempt #11:

***

Carolyn,

It’s been a while since I last wrote to you and I am wondering if you have started to miss me enough that maybe you might be a doll and go ahead and respond to this email since I am about to pour my SOUL (≈ neurochemical responses to stimuli) into this by telling you that I am starting to ache with the anticipation of having an empty bed on Christmas (except for a dog who doesn’t really count since he’s not the same species and smelly), a bed so empty in a house so alone that if Santa Clause were a real superhuman being who actually did what legends purport him to do instead of some bullshit fairytale used to make small children feel that Life is bigger and more generous and self-centric than it really is, then he would probably pass over my house despite the reasonably-sized chimney just because his radar would sense the hazardous loneliness levels on the interior and he’d say to himself or his reindeer (who magically defy gravity despite having not evolved wings or flying mechanisms of any sort), “I’m not going near that shit,” which really just heightens my angst about the fact that my bed is empty (except for a dog, who smells) and that I have a plate of cookies by the fireplace that are going to go mostly uneaten despite the best of intentions and 2 extra cups of sweetener which, by the way, was purchased from the grocery store back when I had a lady to accompany me and make life marginally more tolerable but now I’m left with half a can of nostalgia and nobody to turn to except for Carolyn Hax who, when you think about it, although she is a professionally-trained or at least professional-seeming giver of advice, isn’t really the most reliable about actually giving that advice, but it’s cool and I understand because you clearly must have many more important things to do like, you know, giving advice – oh wait – I am sure there must be things you do besides giving advice, like sitting comfortably in your child-infested living room, aglow with the satisfaction of having helped people rather like Me to either find love or quit being stupid with respect to the love they already have. Quick break. I’m just saying that maybe if you are feeling in the giving spirit this holiday season then you might either (1) peek back through all those emails from me and decide whether they are deserving of a reply given the not insignificant amount of effort and SOUL that went into formulating those thoughts in such a way that not only would your advice benefit me but would also benefit you by having an amusing (see: revenue generating) piece to share with your money-bags D.C. audience, or (2) marry me, please.

Will ditch the pooch if I have to,
Ju$tn

P.S. – Don’t be fooled by the name. It’s me. I just updated it to be a little more Hollywood.

###

Note to haters: This will probably be the last ridiculously long sentence post I do for a while. I just needed to finish amusing myself, okay? OKAY?? Sheesh.

Note to lovers: Yes, I actually am sending these emails to Carolyn, and no, I actually have not received so much as a restraining order.