Karl Lagerfeld Stole My Boyfriend

Readers, I have been snubbed. Karl Lagerfeld stole my boyfriend. That’s right, boys and girls. See, once upon a time, I had this boyfriend who was super-excited to spend time with me, 24-7. He would call and write emails at least 10 times a day. He wanted to spend hours looking into my eyes, reciting poetry, and feeding me chocolate. He was, for all purposes, my man slave. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that screwing the pool boy every once and awhile isn’t fun, but it’s typically not thought of as a long-term arrangement.

Now, this division of labor (me laying there, him devoted to my every need) was ok for awhile, but dear readers, it get’s boring. Huge over-the-top displays of devotion only can take a person so far before time simply runs out. (Next please!)

Rather than telling my favorite sugar-coated candy boy to get lost, I rather coyly feigned interest for about a week, and then stopped giving him the time of day. Now, during this time period, evidently, Mr. Over Eager started to see someone else.

Readers, I am simply devastated! You mean I won’t be getting horrendously trite emails on the subject of my boundless beauty? Oh, the shame! Or, what about the late night phone calls declaring his love, do I miss out on those too? I cannot face the world! I think I shall crawl into the nearest hole and die.

And this other woman, gesh, she must be a dream come true! I cannot type anymore as my keyboard is drowning in my tears.