Dear Hillary,
My letter is a little bit different from all the usual no-hopers and bleeding hearts who write in to you. On the opposite side of the coin, I’m a happy, single man, well off, get my pick of the ladies, so why am I writing to you? My only problem is that after a couple of nights, the ladies all want to move in with me. Some of them bring over not just a change of clothes, but a whole wardrobe full and then there’s the 33 different cosmetics around the bathroom sink. I have no intention of settling down – and why should I? Like I say, I get my pick, so why spoil it. You must have heard the saying ‘why buy a book when you can join a library?’
Roger
Dear Roger,
How lucky are you? You get to wake up with the most adorable man in the world, in your opinion – yourself. Time to change your name to Narcissus, though I would suggest you take all the mirrors down in your bathroom, or you might find yourself falling in love just like the long departed Narcissus. Poor Narcissus saw his reflection and fell in love with it, and could not be away from it, and pined to death looking into the pool. Meanwhile the nymph Echo who fell in love with Narcissus also pined away, just like your ‘lucky’ ladies who try and leave their clothes in your wardrobe and the whitener on the bathroom shelf. It is not often I can indulge myself in mythology and poetry, but Roger, read this little poem penned many years ago by William Cowper (AD 1731-1800) and entitled: “On an ugly fellow”
“Beware, my friend, of crystal brook
Or fountain, lest that hideous hook.
Thy nose, thou chance to see;
Narcissus’ fate would then be thine,
And self-detested thou would’st pine,
As self-enamored he.”
You may think you are God’s gift to women, but you’re just another meal ticket in this country, Petal.
