This apple is suing for defamation of character.
Dear Jay*:
Listen, I am really sorry.
Two years ago, you sent me a birthday email. Which was really, really nice. I mean, who still does that in this day and age? You probably just wanted to post on my Facebook wall and have done with it, but I didn’t have Facebook yet then, because I was afraid of the internet. So you took the time out of your day to send me an email, and we hadn’t seen each other in seven years. THAT WAS SO NICE JAY.
It’s not YOUR fault that you, in the course of your email, lightly threw in a sentence that set me off into a burning rage.
“Is it wrong that I started reading Twilight? Or is more wrong that I actually like it?”
Then, THEN, Jay, you followed that with “Did you ever see Let the Right One In? It’s like the Swedish version of Twilight.”
I was thinking the other day, hmm, I haven’t heard from Jay recently, I wonder why? And then I realized I could trace the slow, gradual decent of our friendship to the email response I sent to your very, very nice birthday wishes two years ago. Oh, Jay. Listen, I am really SO SORRY.
I probably shouldn’t have responded to an email full of birthday wishes with a paragraph that was about three pages long, in Word. I know. I’m sorry. And it probably shouldn’t have contained some of the following phrases:
“Well, no, it’s not WRONG that you’re reading Twilight - wait, you’re not a 12-year-old girl! It IS wrong!”
“These books are very sexist. You do understand what the term sexist means, right? If you need a definition, keep reading Twilight.”
“Bella CONSTANTLY needing to be rescued by a man, be it her father, Edward, or Jacob – gets very tiresome. Like, it gives me NARCOLEPSY, it’s so tiresome. I’m asleep right NOW, thinking of it, as a matter of fact.”
“Also, these books are so poorly written that it’s like they gave a sixth-grader a gel pen and a bunch of loose-leaf paper and told her to get cracking. Try to diagram one of her sentences, Jay. TRY. You CAN’T. They run on for PAGES. She not only avoids the rules of grammar, she sees them coming and runs away, screaming, as if they are a STREET GANG.”
“The thing that bothers me the most about them is that little girls are reading them and think that Edward is the kind of guy they want someday, and Edward is as mentioned above, really pretty sexist. And Bella’s a twit. So do they think that they need to lose their brain somewhere and look for a sexist asshole? This worries me.”
“If I wanted someone to tell me sex outside of marriage was bad, I’d go back to church, STEPHENIE MEYER you JUDGMENTAL MORON.”
“And why the fuck does Edward sparkle in sunlight like a glitter-wearing club rat? Vampires don’t SPARKLE. They BITE YOU. And then you are DEAD. Or maybe UNDEAD. But there is no SPARKLING.”
“Please for the love of all that’s holy tell me you didn’t compare Let the Right One In to Twilight. Please tell me I’m dreaming. Am I dreaming, Jay? I am. I am, right? It’s the narcolepsy? THEY ARE NOT THE SAME AT ALL. Except for vampires. That’s like comparing an El Camino and a ’57 Chevy. They both get you where you need to go, only one does it in style, and the other HAS A FUCKING SPARKLY VAMPIRE WHO MOPES AND ACTS LIKE AN OVERPROTECTIVE DOUCHECANOE.”
Oh, Jay. Listen, in re-reading this email (wow, Gmail, thanks for saving things going that far back, so a person can see how badly they behaved) I really kind of overreacted considering you were just sending me a birthday greeting. And we really haven’t been in touch much since.
I’m totally sorry I’m an asshole.
Except I’m right, obviously. On every single count.
Love, Amy.
*not your real name. Which, obviously, YOU are aware of. But it seemed totally asshatty to use your real name without permission? And I didn’t want to ask permission. Because what if you said no? You would have. I mean, this post is not very nice. So I gave you an alias. YOU’RE WELCOME JAY.
