Dear the Husband I’ll Never Have,
It’s a shame I’ll never have you in my life—not because I want to marry a man, but because you dudes earn more. You could’ve been my breadwinner, and I could’ve just stayed home… eating bread.
I’ll tell you what ISN’T a shame—us not having sex. I don’t want kids (see: Dear, the Children I’ll Never Have), and I hear that there would be a risk that I’d become pregnant every time we had sexy cuddles, and that’s not a risk I’m willing to take.
So keep that penis as far away from me as you possibly can, thank you kindly.
Let’s say we were stuck in a weird alternate reality and we did end up getting married. What would that look like? We’d wear the same clothes, fancy the same women, and probably fight over who gets to assemble the new wardrobe, and that sounds like an absolute shitemare.
I don’t like competition in my relationships, unless I’m the one winning.
I’d only want to kiss you if you looked like Brad Pitt in Meet Joe Black—basically, a hot lesbian. Otherwise, you’re not getting anywhere near my lips… and I mean either set.
I’ve kissed guys before and your lips are rough, stubbly and, quite frankly, disgusting. Also, I don’t like your smells; if I wanted to inhale cedar wood, I’d go and hump a tree.
That’s a joke, I don’t think you’re disgusting, I’m just still a bit resentful over all those times I was turned down by men. That’s also a joke—no one has ever turned me down… and lived.
If I’m being honest, it would be easier if I was straight because women are insane. We’re manipulative, devious, and one emotional breakdown away from a padded cell. And that’s me on a good day.
Anyway, I hope you’re doing well, wherever you are in the vast multiverse where this actually happened. Maybe in that universe, I’m not into plaid shirts or Kate Winslet, and you’re really into henchwomen with a butch walk and bad tattoos.
But here in this universe, I’m sorry to say (much to their bitter disappointment) I’ll be sticking with the ladies. It’s not you—it’s… well, okay, it’s definitely you, I’m sure you’re great and what a massive dong you have (or whatever it is that straight women like), but it’s a no from me.
Good luck out there, though! I’m rooting for you… from a safe distance. Probably while drilling something into a wall.
With no regards whatsoever,
Your (Non-Existent) Wife