Dear Telemarketers,
I’d like to apologize for breaking up with you. I know I added insult to injury by also making myself unavailable, but I really didn’t mean to hurt you.
Yes, I took the coward’s way out and asked my friend, the National Do Not Call List, to let you know I didn’t want to talk to you anymore. I could have told you in person, but I wasn’t sure how well you would take the news our affair was over, and I didn’t want to feel guilty.
Please understand that I had to do it. I just couldn’t handle the pressure of entertaining so many of you on the same day. I felt like a slut.
I’ll always think of you, and remember our good times. You stimulated me. Yes, you stimulated me to tap into my inner resources and creativity. Role-playing was so much fun with you. I remember playing the lovely Widow with twelve starving children, who couldn’t afford anything. I remember sobbing and beseeching you to find a good man for me. I promised I would willingly give myself to this wonderful good Samaritan and marry him, if only he could help provide for my children. I did weep on the phone well, didn’t I?
Of course, I loved using my theatre experience to lose myself in each role. My favorite conversations with you involved me playing a sweet, but mentally-challenged woman, along with her imaginary dog, Sparky, who had come home from the institution for a weekend visit with her family. Even though he was imaginary, Sparky barked for you and helped me communicate. “Me and Sparky” always volunteered to go out in the parking lots and look for coins for you since you always seemed so needy and we weren’t allowed to have any money of our own. Of course, you had the easy part as you only had to hang up.
I will certainly miss you. Just remember it’s not anything you did – it’s me. I just need some time to find myself. Right, Sparky? Woof! Woof!
