Terence, I realize that right now you are the only person who reads the shit that I post. Or it pops up in your little subscription box, and you ignore it. Who really knows. I would hope that you might read this and chuckle in your Terence way, or perhaps be fondly annoyed.
I just want to tell you that I looked up the distance between St. Andrews and Glasgow yesterday, and you know what it was? Seventy fucking miles. You and your “beloved” are a mere seventy miles apart. (In this case, I am employing quotation marks as I would a laugh track. You’re supposed to laugh there. I’m writing this blog like an episode of motherfucking Friends.)
I’m bitter. Quite frankly, every couple that has ever navigated the romantic annoyance of the semester(s) abroad is bitter. Every BFF-type friendship is bitter bitter bitter. I say this to you and not to Ariel, as I care about her feelings and realize that this semester will, of course, be a challenge regardless of the outrageous lack of major bodies of water separating the two of you.
I promise I won’t allow my rage to be directed at anybody other than you, a blameless individual with a stupid face. You’ll probably never read this, right? Yeah, fuck you.
(Love you!)
