Dear Anderson Cooper,
For a long time, I really thought we would be together. I thought we were going to get married but be one of those lucky childless couples that drink a lot of wine and listen to Broadway musical soundtracks as 7 cats sit at our feet. I thought we’d call each other “lover” and make other people sick with how cute we were.
But then you had to go and be gay.
Look, I understand that “it’s not a choice” and “this is who I really am” and “we were never together in the first place and I don’t even know who you are so please stop scaring me on twitter.”
But it still hurts. I was going to be your new Kathy Griffin! What am I now? Your Sally Jessy Raphael? Count me out, Anderson.
I don’t want this letter to be an ultimatum. But that’s what it is. I miss us. And in the words of the early 2000s pop sensation that was O-Town (oh, how life was simpler then) I want it all or nothing at all.
Acknowledge me now or lose me forever! When I tweet you “Hey baby, thinking about you, please come over and let’s do sex.” You have to respond to that. That’s non-negotiable. When I show up outside your door after drinking three bottles of cheap wine and yelling “Does the carpet match the drapes?” you can’t call the police on me. Okay, the first time it was a funny prank. But the next four times was excessive, don’t you think?
And let’s talk about your “roommate” Ben. Who is this guy? Because according to the internet, you two are “dating” and have been in a “relationship” for “years”. Um, am I missing something? I thought we were dating. Yes, we’ve never even met but that doesn’t mean it’s not a real relationship. But you know what? I don’t care that you have a “boyfriend”. I love you so much, I can make this work. This is going to be one of those weird relationships that people are a little freaked out about. You, me, and this boyfriend of yours: Let’s be a trio. We should all date. Like at the same time. “Table for three!” We can walk down the streets, hand in hand in hand, as people from the midwest call us ‘freaks’. What do I care about what some yokel says? Love is love.
Sure, the, uh, bedroom situation might get a little weird. But I’ll try. I’ll do anything for you, Anderson. Anything (including but not limited to: murder, vandalism, attending Katy Perry concerts, burning the American flag, watching an episode of Glee, anything.) Let’s gang bang this weird situation and make it work for us!
Like any old regular person in love, it just hurts my feelings when you reject my lovemaking advances. I’m like three-time Academy Award winner Meryl Streep in 2012′s smash hit Hope Springs. I’m just trying to bring the spark back into this relationship. But you act so standoffish, yes, yes, I know you’ll answer with “How can I be standoffish when I don’t even know you and we’ve never been in the same room and I’ve never responded to any of your hundred terrifying, and frankly, a little disturbing tweets?” But you know what, Anderson? You’re so vain, you probably think me standing outside your house at 3 in the morning screaming “I don’t need you anyways” is something all about you. Don’t you?
Well it’s not. It’s an expression of my love! Which is exactly what I said in the response to the affidavit following your restraining order. I was across the street from your house so there’s not a thing you can do about it!!!!!!!! hahahahahahahahaha
Wait, I’m sorry, please, just love me.
Breaking news: I still want to sex you.
Breaking news: I want the Silver Fox in my box.
Breaking news: I’m never going to stop tweeting you uncomfortable and unsettling sexual advances via Twitter. Get used to it, lover.
Breaking news: I don’t care if you’re gay. It’s not gay if we do it my way.
- Mrs. Anderson Cooper (no matter what you say)