Breakup Letter Generator

[DeDal N.]

Dearest Emil,

This breakup letter should come as no surprise nor cause any heartache to someone as cold hearted as you. Time and again I've tried to get you to show me how much you care. Time and again I've been rudefully rebuffed.

I have emotions. I have needs. I have love to express. But you, Mr. Selfish, just don't care that you make me feel like my needs, emotions and loving intentions are shamefully wrong. Well news flash, Emil, they aren't. So, after 3 months I'm ending this charade of a relationship in hopes of finding someone who is emotionally mature enough to love me like I need to be; anally.

Don't come crawling back on your hands and knees all lubed up and asking for a second chance because behind us are your chances of me loving your behind.

You see, to me and people who aren't emotionally dead inside like you, cornholing is a beautiful way of making love. It lets the cornholee (you) know that they are special and very important to the cornholer (me). The ironic thing is that you always talked about taking our relationship to the 'next level', but you're just a man of words, not actions. You gave me lip service when I needed my ass serviced.

I mean, what's more intimate and meaningful than making sweet beautiful anal love? Butt nooky isn't something you dive head first in with just anyone. No, the person whose tootsie roll hole you hammer is someone extra special. You can keep your vows and veils and rings and ceremonies. I want something that actually means something. A trip down Hershey Highway is infinitely more meaningful than one down the aisle. It says that what we have is something special, something beautiful, something so important to both of us that it can only be expressed by melovingly plugging yourpooper.

But no, you say its dirty. It's wrong. It goes against god. Well boo-fucking-hoo. To us in the real world with hearts that function, that's called love. You don't have to sugar coat it, I know how you really feel about me. Its obvious that your just hiding behind those absurd reasons because I am not the one for you. I truly hope you find the girl that you can bend in front of, jelly up, and unconditionally love. For me, that person was you. Sadly, my love, feelings and yearnings to poke youin the brown eye go unrequited.

Love,

DeDal

P.S. I'm not so bitter that I wouldn't let you eat my pussy one last time.

.....perfection.

[Nero19]

Dear Whoever Read This Letter

I am writing you to tell that is all over. You are getting annoying and I don't want to see you again in front of my eyes.

I really don't care if you are so far away because you had just played with me. I hope you are happy now because next time you will never see someone like me again.

Have a nice death

Sincerely,
Rhapsodos

[Saqir]

Dearest Andrei,

This breakup letter should come as no surprise nor cause any heartache to someone as cold hearted as you. Time and again I've tried to get you to show me how much you care. Time and again I've been rudefully rebuffed.

I have emotions. I have needs. I have love to express. But you, Mr. Selfish, just don't care that you make me feel like my needs, emotions and loving intentions are shamefully wrong. Well news flash, Andrei, they aren't. So, after 3 years I'm ending this charade of a relationship in hopes of finding someone who is emotionally mature enough to love me like I need to be; anally.

Don't come crawling back on your hands and knees all lubed up and asking for a second chance because behind us are your chances of me loving your behind.

You see, to me and people who aren't emotionally dead inside like you, cornholing is a beautiful way of making love. It lets the cornholee (you) know that they are special and very important to the cornholer (me). The ironic thing is that you always talked about taking our relationship to the 'next level', but you're just a man of words, not actions. You gave me lip service when I needed my ass serviced.

I mean, what's more intimate and meaningful than making sweet beautiful anal love? Butt nooky isn't something you dive head first in with just anyone. No, the person whose tootsie roll hole you hammer is someone extra special. You can keep your vows and veils and rings and ceremonies. I want something that actually means something. A trip down Hershey Highway is infinitely more meaningful than one down the aisle. It says that what we have is something special, something beautiful, something so important to both of us that it can only be expressed by melovingly plugging yourpooper.

But no, you say its dirty. It's wrong. It goes against god. Well boo-fucking-hoo. To us in the real world with hearts that function, that's called love. You don't have to sugar coat it, I know how you really feel about me. Its obvious that your just hiding behind those absurd reasons because I am not the one for you. I truly hope you find the girl that you can bend in front of, jelly up, and unconditionally love. For me, that person was you. Sadly, my love, feelings and yearnings to poke youin the brown eye go unrequited.

Love,

Teodora

P.S. Give my regards to the next woman you decide to suck the life out of.

[cartof]

[Deadpool]

Dear Harley:

Not a day passes that you don't tell me how important I am or how much you love me, but those are just words. What I need are actions that convey how you can't live without me and would do anything to keep me. I need someone not just figuratively crazy about me, but literally, shit-house, loony-bin, arsonist crazy about me. Someone willing to do anything and everything to keep me.

Harley, that's just not you. While it does feel like you love me, it's not a smothering, obsessive, borderline psychotic love. Its more of an unneurotic, trusting, agape love with luke-warm infatuation at best. There's no jealousy, no vindicitiveness, no sense of possession. For christ sake, you haven't even given me a cell phone so you can call me when you need something important: Like knowing where I am all the time. Trust and respect are nice, but is paranoia too much to ask in a relationship?

Honestly, Harley, in the Marvel Comics time that we have been together, how many times have you bashed a beer bottle over the head of some bitch who made eye contact with me or accidentally brushed against me as they passed? Or peppersprayed an overfriendly sales clerk? I'll tell you how many times, the same number of times you carved my name into your arms with a razor blade and got it tatooed in cursive on your neck: None. You never even talk of ending your life in a world without me.

Sure, you'll probably cry over our breakup, be heartbroken for a month, but that's not good enough. The girl for me would call, start crying and begging to get back together. When that didn't work she'd threaten me, immediately apologize, and offer me money, jewelry, deviant sex or anything else I wanted to get back with her. When, I still rebuffed this dream girlof mine she'd turn suicidal and explain in graphic detail how she was going to kill herself. I would half-heartedly talk her out of it, at which point she'd blame it all on me. Finally, she'd keep repeating how she didn't need me, loudly curse me for being so worthless, threaten me and then slam the phone down.

The next day she would call, and we'd do it all over again. Harley, I'm not asking you to kill yourself if you lose me, but a half-hearted effort of washing a package of Dexatrim down with a bottle of Nyquil so you at least have to get your stomach pumped would be a nice gesture.

Sure, sure, you're caring, sweet, devoted, honest and loyal. Those are fine and all, but pathological is what I need. Someone who'd literally kill themself if they could no longer be with me; after they killed me that is. So, I must break up with you. The sad thing is, in a month's time, I probably won't catch you trying to follow me, you probably won't call me 122 times a day and hang up as soon as I answer, and you definetly won't even fake a pregnancy or press false rape charges..

Jesus, Harley, you just dont get it do you? Sure, every guy unthinkingly says he wants a Juliet, but this Romeo needs his to do her part to bring Act 5 Scene 3 to its conclusion.

Adieu,

Deadpool

P.S. Give my regards to the next man you decide to suck the life out of.

This was...good. I cri evertim

[Andy :3]

Dear Mio:

Not a day passes that you don't tell me how important I am or how much you love me, but those are just words. What I need are actions that convey how you can't live without me and would do anything to keep me. I need someone not just figuratively crazy about me, but literally, shit-house, loony-bin, arsonist crazy about me. Someone willing to do anything and everything to keep me.

Mio, that's just not you. While it does feel like you love me, it's not a smothering, obsessive, borderline psychotic love. Its more of an unneurotic, trusting, agape love with luke-warm infatuation at best. There's no jealousy, no vindicitiveness, no sense of possession. For christ sake, you haven't even given me a cell phone so you can call me when you need something important: Like knowing where I am all the time. Trust and respect are nice, but is paranoia too much to ask in a relationship?

Honestly, Mio, in the 1 year that we have been together, how many times have you bashed a beer bottle over the head of some bitch who made eye contact with me or accidentally brushed against me as they passed? Or peppersprayed an overfriendly sales clerk? I'll tell you how many times, the same number of times you carved my name into your arms with a razor blade and got it tatooed in cursive on your neck: None. You never even talk of ending your life in a world without me.

Sure, you'll probably cry over our breakup, be heartbroken for a month, but that's not good enough. The girl for me would call, start crying and begging to get back together. When that didn't work she'd threaten me, immediately apologize, and offer me money, jewelry, deviant sex or anything else I wanted to get back with her. When, I still rebuffed this dream girlof mine she'd turn suicidal and explain in graphic detail how she was going to kill herself. I would half-heartedly talk her out of it, at which point she'd blame it all on me. Finally, she'd keep repeating how she didn't need me, loudly curse me for being so worthless, threaten me and then slam the phone down.

The next day she would call, and we'd do it all over again. Mio, I'm not asking you to kill yourself if you lose me, but a half-hearted effort of washing a package of Dexatrim down with a bottle of Nyquil so you at least have to get your stomach pumped would be a nice gesture.

Sure, sure, you're caring, sweet, devoted, honest and loyal. Those are fine and all, but pathological is what I need. Someone who'd literally kill themself if they could no longer be with me; after they killed me that is. So, I must break up with you. The sad thing is, in a month's time, I probably won't catch you trying to follow me, you probably won't call me 122 times a day and hang up as soon as I answer, and you definetly won't even fake a pregnancy or press false rape charges..

Jesus, Mio, you just dont get it do you? Sure, every guy unthinkingly says he wants a Juliet, but this Romeo needs his to do her part to bring Act 5 Scene 3 to its conclusion.

Adieu,

Andy

P.S. You really were going to erase that video tape, right?

TT^TT