Omnia vincit no mour

So, I'm in writing mode right now, and I'm updating all written sources of information in my life. It's like, 3am.

What?

Anyway, I want to write a letter to Jake, that guy who writes that Jake column for Glamour. I read Glamour pretty religiously, and most especially his writing - not only is he a great writer, but I feel this undercurrent of being torn up.

Jake,

As a religiously Glamour-ous girl, I adore your column. I think you're funny, charming, and probably pretty cute. I'm sure you get this all the time, so maybe I should talk about something with substance. Because, you know, you're a ghost.
If I could meet you, I would probably regale you with mostly obnoxious questions, like "Is a guy going to dismiss me if I admit to liking trashy daytime television?" or "Instead of asking where things are, I just make the motion (think scissors) and wander around. Is that weird?" You don't have to answer these questions - I'll figure them out with time.
There are questions that I believe everyone asks of themselves at one point or other in their lifetimes, one of which is "What is going on?" and the other "Why not me?" In this case, I think perhaps we both fall under the "Why not me?" file.
Now I'm going to do that stereotypical anecdote about a past love that really changed me - my views of myself and my perceptions of the world. It was everything I thought I had ever wanted in a future, but more than I had thought. I absolutely loved him, my unofficial fiance, my Super Mario Bro. I believed that he was the Forever Kind, and he encouraged me.
As these stories often go, things fell apart, and after two years of promises, ring shopping, video games, late-night phone calls, spaghetti, and arguments, he ended it. It crushed me, probably more than I could tell you in words. The clarity of the heartbreak, and the heartbreaking clarity opened my eyes when I read your article about heartbreak. I cried. A lot.
If you were any other male columnist, I would unleash a flood of angry questions upon you about my ex's behavior. (By the way, I just want to say that he left me for a younger woman - and I'm 21 years old.) But I have a feeling that you're not like the people I've met from the way you write. You notice and appreciate subtlety, which is rare. I think maybe the word I want is 'genteel' but it just sounds too creepy. I also feel (no offense) that when you write those humorous quips about other people and analyze their relationships, something is off. The only way I know to compare it is by using a perspective analogy; it's like you're describing something far away but looking at the things which are close by.
Now that I've thoroughly offended you, I want to apologize. I want to tell you that everything will work out, that love conquers all, that it will get easier. But I just don't believe it's that simple. Omnia vincit no mour. The most important tools for me are time, reflection, and fabulous shoes.
Be brave.

Jenni Schweitzer

P.S. Don't worry - you're still funny.

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