Why don’t people email me more?

Dear Miss Bintu (or is it Miss Felicia? I’m not good at reading letters, let alone emails):

I am having an okay day. Thank you for asking. I had to pay bills today, which always leaves me in a crap mood. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.

I’m not going to ask you how you are because, honestly, I don’t really care.

I’m not quite sure why you sent me an email, although it looks like I am one out of many seeing as you sent this email to a group of people. I’m hurt that I’m not the only one, Bintu.

So you’re looking for someone to partner with. I have the perfect person for you. There’s this guy at Walgreen’s. He’s a pharmacist or assistant or maybe he just puts on the white coat so he can feel like he works behind the Clinique counter. Anyway, I think you’d like him. He’s tall, but not too tall because he hunches his shoulders. Some people would say he has beady eyes, but I think he’s just trying to focus on the person he’s looking at. His smile reveals yellowish teeth – this is a good thing because you know he’s not trying to be perfect. Ooooh and wait ’til you hear him laugh. It starts out with a low guffaw and ends in a series of snorts. It’s cute, in that beastly, flasher sort of way.

I am going to print this email and give it to him; it will make his day.

Cheers (and I hope you download a virus on your computer),

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