*This post contains the translation of the Dear John letter crafted in conjunction with the Diva in an effort to rid her of an unwanted amorous suitor. While we believe the original letter was most appropriate for dispelling her irritating beau of his relationship delusions, we also felt it necessary to supply the world at large with the translated text, in an effort to improve the dating lives of many a single gal.*

Dear Dane: (If he sounds like someone you may be interested in dating, please contact the Diva, as she would be more than happy to share his real name and contact information, as she is hoping he finds a suitable match quickly, so as to distract him from texting/calling her.)

I know it's chickenshit to do this via email, but sobeit. (I think it is important to start these kinds of things gently, but I really just want to find a way to get you to stop calling me every 5 minutes.) While I really enjoyed meeting you on the train that afternoon, and the romance of it all is rather appealing, I'm afraid that I don't think that in the end, there is enough substance between us to forge a true connection. (Loosely put, you are boring as Hell, when you aren't making shit up about what you have done in the past. I mean come on, was it not enough that you were walking into the World Trade Building elevator as the plane hit? Did you also have to save your dad from falling off of a capsizing boat by grabbing his ankle before he was swept into the Mediterranean? By the way, was that before or after you contracted malaria in Nigeria? Oh and was it $10,000 that you paid the border guard to enter Iran when your family was fleeing from the Russians?)

I know that you will disagree with this, but I tell you with great clarity that a relationship between us is not possible. (For the love of God, please do not text or call me again. 5 texts in an hour is not o.k., especially when they come after the 3 calls and 2 voicemails you have already left me, even though I told you I was busy at work and would call you later. And telling me that "I don't mean to annoy you" but then calling me anyway, does not make it any less annoying, and it does not make it o.k.)

Besides the obvious issue of distance, (not just Connecticut to Dallas, but also Copenhagen to Dallas, Paris to Dallas, London to Dallas) there are also a number of personality differences that I really feel make us incompatible. (I'm so sorry your only trip in a helicopter was while you were unconscious after crashing your Indie Race Car in Brazil, but hey, at least you were awake for the Air Force 1 ride. You were awake weren't you? I was sorry to hear that you lost your job on Thursday, but good work getting the President of the American Division job for whatever the hell Danish company it was you said you got today.)

While I am flattered by the fact that you have such an intense desire to make me happy, (as you so ardently expressed to me on one of the multiple phone calls I could not find a way to dodge this week. I realize not everyone immediately buys into the creed "This is The Diva, and the world circles around her." Your early and rather enthusiastic adoption of said mantra did manage to buy you at least 6 extra days.) I think that in this amount of time, (the longest 16 days of my life, possibly due to lack of sleep, as you texted continuously from several time zones, one of which is now home to my diamond necklace you purchased for my birthday while in Paris, but unfortunately lost with your luggage because it made so much sense to check a diamond necklace instead of carrying it on the plane back from Denmark. Too bad it didn't turn up like your cell phone, which you so inconveniently misplaced during your visit to town. Good thing for you your ex tracked you down at your hotel so I could hear your 20 minute argument IN DANISH before we went out for my birthday dinner.) for the majority of our conversations to have centered on the state of our relationship, (Seriously, we are not a country, and it is not a relationship after 16 days. Could we not have had even one conversation about American Idol like every other freaking couple in America, or perhaps we could lament the current state of the economy? Of course this was impossible, given your recent decision to give up watching or reading the news. How many times can a girl ask you how your kids are and what you were doing for dinner? Too many, but that's the best I could come up with since I apparently lack the imagination that you were able to develop while driving the 8000 miles home to Denmark after having torched the World Bank hut to keep any sensitive documents out of the hands of those pesky Russians trying to hold your family hostage in Afghanistan when you were merely a boy of 14.) which barely exists to begin with, is indicative of the very real lack of commonality between us. (I just want you to leave me alone, please, and I am hoping that this part will confuse you enough that you won't be able to text me for at least a couple of hours so I can have just a sliver of peace.)

I am so sorry; (I pray to God you do not turn out to be the stalker I think you could be, what with all your White House intelligence connections.) I really wish there were a way to not cause you pain, (Seriously, if you could just man up and stop talking about your emotions, I would really appreciate it.) but like a band-aid, (Cause I roll like that, don't you know.) I'm just ripping it off in an attempt to avoid dragging out an end that I see as inevitable. (Have I mentioned, God, that I would really appreciate it if he turned out not to be a stalker? Have I not been tortured enough this week?)

I know the right person for you is out there somewhere. (Perhaps that charming mother of those adorable octuplets born right around the time we met. She seems every bit as committed to bending the fabric of reality as you are. You would probably make a wonderful couple, and certainly with the salary you will be making in your new job, keeping all 18 of you in cowboy boots should be no problem.)

The Diva


*While we are saddened that Date #6 was not in fact the Diva's Prince Charming, we find hope in the knowledge that Date #7 should be coming along soon, and perhaps that one will not be another toad.*