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Jul 27, 2010 
By 
Dear Andrew:
Today I am marrying the love of my life, and he is not you. To be honest you never had a chance. But after our years together, in which you used me as little more than a bauble, an accessory to be shown off to other men, and a mirror, an object whose main purpose was to show you your reflected glory, I don’t expect you to understand that there was never a chance in Hell that I would marry you.
I shouldn’t have had to write this letter. I should be devoting all of my time to my groom, my family, and my friends, who’ve come to share a joyful wedding with me. Naturally, as one of my bridesmaids just showed me, you had other plans.
I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised that you would choose this day to write a narcissistic “open letter” to me, which is just another excuse for you to wallow in your own greatness, and your self-centered fantasy that I’ll suddenly realize the error of my ways, leaving my groom at the altar like some ditz in a Julia Roberts movie, to return to you. No doubt you imagine you’ll whisk me off to some island paradise, where we’ll be married and I’ll be happy forever, fulfilling my true destiny of listening to you talk about … yourself.
Just as I did for four increasingly agonizing years with you, before I found the guts to cut you away like a lamprey from a shark’s underbelly. I’m sorry Andrew, but I’m not about to let you reattach your umbilical cord. I won’t be your mirror.
I’ll admit it was fun for the first year. You can be a very funny guy, as long as the subject of humor is something other than you. You’re good-looking. You have a great job. I love your son, and genuinely miss him. But you? Well, it’s par for the course that you’d pick my wedding day to send a creepy open email all about how wonderful you are, and how wonderful I am (because any woman who’d date Andrew Cohen is, by definition, almost as good as you) to thousands of total strangers on the internet. With true love like this, who needs a stalker?
Despite your stunt, I still care enough about you to give you some advice, words that I know your parents never said to you: The world does not revolve around you Andrew. Get over yourself. And please, see a shrink.
Say hello to your son, and tell him that I miss him. Even if I never want to hear his father’s name again.
Anne
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13 Comments 
asshats
