These things are never easy to write, especially when there are so many good memories. Do you remember when we first met? It was all so exciting... you, me, Sarah Michelle, the eyeliner guy from Lost, and a whole season of hope and promise. First there was Bridget, the saucy reformed ex-stripper with a spotted past who spent most her time nose first in a pile of blow. And then there was her twin, Siobhan, the horny upper East side princess with a sinister side and whole load of skeletons in her 20,000 square foot closet.
Yes, there were some awkward times as we first started dating, like the now-infamous boat ride that looked like the opening credits of Gilligan's Island. But once we got past that, there were special moments too. Remember when Juliet wrote "WHORE" on the ginormous picture of Siobhan in the entry? Or what about when Gemma slapped the s**t outta Bridget?? Good times, good times. Your dialogue had me cracking up week to week. Who could ever forget, "She's a whole new kind of bitch"?
See why things just aren't working out for Marja and Ringer after the jump...
But although you make me laugh, things just aren't working out between us. First there's the closet. Oh that lovely enormous Costco-sized closet. Remember how Bridget used to hide her money and firearms in the Gucci black leather purse? It was all so dangerous and mysterious back then. Now Bridget (posing as her twin Siobhan) just sits around swapping saliva with her sister's husband on the little tufted chaise lounge. It's all too icky, gross, and incestuous. Last night she even told him she loved him! (and who wouldn't love a man that kicks down for a $250,000 diamond ring for your 6-year wedding anniversary?? I have cans of corn older than that marriage!)
|"Sorry I'm late to deliver the ransom. I had to swing by London Fog for this coat. Would a pipe be too much?"|
And what about our friends?!? We barely spend time with them anymore. We used to see Henry all the time. He was so swarthy, and smoldering, and punch-drunk off of bourbon... but now he just pops in from time to time to whine about his missing wife Gemma and wear unflattering turtleneck sweaters that make him look like the 5th Beatle. Richard too. He was the glue that kept us together in this crazy train. We used to run around NYC with him, hot on the tail of Bridget who was hiding from the FBI and the crazy stripper serial killer, but I can tell that something happened between you two. You shipped Richard off to Wyoming to hunt down a crooked cop that no one gives a crap about and totally derailed the entire momentum of the Bridget chase.
|"I'm sorry Henry, but Ringo and Paul said you're out!"|
Instead, we've been spending all of our time with YOUR friends lately. Dumb Malcolm who can barely pull his head out of Bridget's ass long enough to see that she has totally dissed him and moved on with Andrew. Yet he keeps coming around ... like an annoying younger brother at a slumber party. And Charlie, stupid stupid Charlie, who has been nothing but Siobhan's little man-puppet this whole season and deserved that 9mm shot to the noggin last night after he failed to kill Gemma (not once) but TWICE! Oh yeah, I said it. There's no frickin' way Gemma is really dead. First, the actress still appears in the credits, and second, moronic Charlie told her that Siobhan was alive and planning this whole scheme right before he put a bullet in her chest. I guarantee she'll be around come January, in some sort of "coma" that ends just in time for her to reveal to everyone who the true evil mastermind is.
|"Gimme an S, gimme a T, gimme an A, gimme a T-U-T-O-R-Y!"|
You're also becoming a little too dramatic for me these days. Do you really want me to believe that the coke whore Lolita Juliet was man-handled by her much older and bland teacher Mr. Carpenter? If she was, he is a disgusting pedophile pig. And if she wasn't (but told people she was) then she's a conniving pathetic excuse of a human being. Either way, they both end up sucking royally so why do you want me to care about this story arc?
Let's face it ... this has been coming for months. Our relationship is shallow. It has been entirely based on one thing only, Sarah Michelle Gellar. It's like an ex you keep calling because you have really great sex together but can't stand to be around them for a even second when they're not inside you. She is the only good thing we have between us, and no amount of boat rides, huge closets, designer gowns, sparkly diamond rings, smart scarves, or Parisian one night stands can make this work.
So like I said earlier, this is not easy for me to say, but I think it's time we break up. I know you will find someone just perfect for you. Someone who will believe that Siobhan was able to catch an 8 hour flight form Paris to JFK just in time to confront Charlie at the storage locker and pump him full of lead. Someone who is swooning over the Bridget/Andrew love story and finds it sweet, not sickly. Someone who actually knows the name of the serial killer who wants Bridget dead and doesn't just refer to him as "that guy who's name sounds like a parrot". Someone who enjoys their beefcake with a heavy side of dim. Someone who believes that Sarah Michelle pulled off that "giving herself a black eye" scene with authenticity. And someone who finds the soap-like twists and turns of Ringer just bearable enough to ignore the mediocre writing and elementary acting.
But it just not me.
Keep in touch and take care,
P.S. - I've been cheating on you with Gossip Girl the whole relationship!