Get Goose

I considered calling this post “Ode to Immature Men,” and dedicating it to a friend who had the unfortunate experience of dating one for three years. Actually, I am sure a lot of the dating was fun and fulfilling. In my experience, the sixth grade mentality only shows up on special occasions. Perhaps, at your mother’s fancy dinner party. And, most definitely when the two of you are discussing the big “C” word…commitment.

I had lunch with this friend yesterday and she shared a classic story about her ex. They’ve been broken up for about eight months now, due to his commitment-phobia and love of hot air balloons (I threw that one in for kicks). This is a testament to all men who refuse to grow up and live in the big-boy world.

It’s about 5:15pm and my friend comes home from a tiring day at the office. Ready to kick up her feet and enjoy a lovely Chardonnay, she runs to the mailbox on her way into the house. There, on top of her Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes entry, is a folded up piece of yellow, lined writing paper. She unfolds the note and reads the following:

“For some reason, I feel the need to tell you that I’ve started dating someone. I am telling you this as a friend that just needs to share this information without any malicious intent or motive and I don’t want to stir waters that are clearing…just thought you should hear it from me. That’s it. Please let me know when you get this. Oh, and can I borrow your algebra notes tonight? (I threw that one in for kicks, too).”

I should now go into a whole diatribe about the content of the note, but the story gets even better, and the note speaks for itself.

The kicker is that just under the signature of the ex is another note in someone else’s handwriting. It’s just three little words with an arrow pointing to the ex’s signature: “WHAT A JERK.”

It only took a few minutes for my friend to deduce that her post carrier had added this little gem. Apparently, he saw the note in her mailbox and thinking she had left it for him, opened it up. His curiosity got the best of him and the rest is history. My friend confirmed this information today. Rock on Mr. Postman!

To all of you Immature Men out there, please get it together. Come in off the playground and grow up for God’s sake. Handwritten notes in mailboxes only work for nine-year-olds and stalkers. And, no one cares who you are dating, as long as you’re not dating two people at the same time (even that could be more forgivable than the ol’ “note in the mailbox” maneuver).

Social Bookmarks: