So you got to stop my wedding and steal my soon-to-be wife in the name of true love. And now, you’ve finally become the charming and courageous protagonist that every amateur romantic movie writer dreams of creating. Congratulations. I’m just so happy for you.

But as you were running into the sunset with the woman whom I spent nine years of my life loving, did you ever stop to think about me, the guy you left behind at the altar? The pathetic loser whom everyone pities and then forgets because he just wasn’t “the one.” How’s that guy been?


Listen man, I don’t even have the mental energy to try to win her back because your little stunt has put me in such an awful financial situation.

I paid for this entire wedding out of my own wallet, which was already thin enough before this whole fiasco. I’ve been working 80 hours for the past ten months, taking on every overtime opportunity possible, so that I could show her I was committed to providing for our future family. I was already debating what elementary school to choose for our unborn child, but I bet you weren’t considering that when you decided to take it all away.

That’s not even the craziest part. The wedding photographer I commissioned to document my beautiful wedding took photos of you stealing my almost-wife. And he had the audacity to charge me for them. What am I supposed to even do with those? Photoshop my head onto yours and use that as my holiday card?

I was hoping to recoup that money with our wedding gifts, but because of you, everyone was taking them back when they left. Okay sure, the bride and groom may no longer be together, but did they not attend my ceremony and snack on my hors d'oeuvres as I cried under one of the catering tables? The only thing left at the end of the day was a NutriBullet, but it was that cheap, on-the-go version. I got laughed off of Craigslist for trying to sell it. So now, I can eat my Kraft Mac & Cheese in smoothie form. Yum.

Now, don’t you dare think I’m done airing my grievances just yet. My then-future wife and I had a three-week honeymoon to Italy planned out already. And because she was in-between jobs, she said she’d contribute her share after she got her first paycheck. But it should be pretty apparent to you, me, and really anyone who isn’t lethally oblivious that those plans didn’t exactly work out.

You’d think she would’ve told me she was thinking of leaving me before I bought the plane tickets, hotel stay, and excursion packages. WHY WOULD SOMEONE COMMIT TO A THREE-DAY WINE TOUR OF TUSCANY IF THEY KNEW THEY COULDN’T MAKE ANY OF THE THREE DAYS?! There were plenty of good one-day tours she could have suggested. I can’t even get a refund on the tour because they apparently “had to rent a larger bus to accommodate two additional guests.”

Like I said before, I don’t even want her anymore. All I ask now is that you return her engagement ring so that I can get my car payments in on time. You know, the one that was conveniently on her finger as you stole her away from me? The one that will magically disappear and three weeks later coincidentally look exactly like the ring you use to propose to her. It's still not too late to make things right.

All this to say, I hate you. And also myself. But mostly you.

Also, random question, but you two wouldn’t happen to be looking for a new roommate to immediately move in, would you?