As I look back on each relationship I’ve had throughout my life, I feel as though I owe these gentleman apologies. Even a few from when I was just a tween/teen stand out in my mind. So here are some letters to my exes. They include just a brief description of the relationship, the state of my psyche at the time of said relationship and my apology. Enjoy my embarrassing yet fun trip down my heart’s chaotic road. The names have been changed or abbreviated to protect those who may not remember dating me or those who may now be gay and/or married.

Dear Tony,

I’m sorry our relationship only last a few weeks, I know now that this was my fault. How were we supposed to have a real relationship when I wouldn’t even hang out with you outside of junior high? I should have accepted your offer to take me to Taco Bell. You were so kind to offer to drive me there on your Huffy. You said I could ride on your pegs, but I was scared you were going to try to kiss me and my dad had told me that kissing led to leprosy and I just couldn’t risk having to move to an island far away. I hope you are doing well and can forgive me. That is, if you even remember my name.

[1993]

Dear J.J.,

You were my first kiss. I’ll never forget it. I wasn’t ready, but our “friends” told us they wouldn’t let us leave the Burger King parking lot until we did. It was messy and everyone watched. I think I may have accidentally bit you and I hope I didn’t leave a scar. Thank you for buying me chicken tenders afterwards. That was very kind of you. And I’m sorry I broke up with you soon after. It was summer time and my boobs were growing. I could finally justify a bra, but not our relationship. We kissed again in an alley when I was 18. At the time, it was romantic and I think I was drinking Zima. You were delightful.

[Summer of 1993]

Dear JM and PB,

I know we didn’t date at the same time, but at the time I dated each of you, I was really into dudes with THICK glasses. So thank you for full-filling my need to find love in a bifocal place.

JM, at that time, you were my longest boyfriend (3 months). I thought we were pretty serious until you broke up with me for a hotter girl. I understand, but it stung a bit. And thank you for apologizing to me on Facebook when I brought it up to you only a few months ago. You are a real class act. And I apologize for having discussed this with you 18 years later, but I am the queen of awkward conversations with the opposite sex. As pathetic as it sounds, it was kind of rewarding to get an apology. Congrats on graduating from your glasses and finding a hot wife. I wish you both the best.

PB, I don’t know where you are today, but I can remember following you around in junior high like a kid lost at Target. I thought the way you ignored me during our “relationship” was so romantic. You would say sweet things to me like, “You have really big feet” and “Do you borrow your friend’s clothes because you’re poor?” Then after 2-4 months, you dumped me. I was devastated. I listened to Otis Redding’s, I’ve Been Loving You Too Long on repeat for an entire week. Then we dated again in high school. You were obsessed with wrestling and the NWO. You would constantly do that Suck It move that they did, where you crossed your arms and hit your mid-section in front of me. I really liked driving in your red Chrysler Sebring convertible. That was until you accused me of only dating you for your car. I’m sorry you felt that way. It definitely didn’t help my claim that I was not dating you for that reason when you dropped me off at home after school and my mom ran up to your car and said, “Oh wow. What a car! I can see what my daughter sees in you.” I’m sorry we were so materialistic, but a convertible in Minnesota is like snow in Hawaii – rare, beautiful and respected. I saw you again at our 10-year high school reunion and I have to say, my crush on you was still there. You were the aloof, hilarious, snarky guy I remembered and I apologize for again following you around all night.

[1994]

Dear DE,

We watched the movie Aladdin so many times, I memorized it. Even though we spent most of the movie making-out, I am excellent at multi-tasking so I could kiss and listen to the movie at the same time. Because of this, I memorized the soundtrack. I’m sorry I rarely called you on the phone. I know you thought that was because I didn’t really like you, but it wasn’t. It was because I had a really bad stuttering problem that I was trying to hide. I had most difficulty saying words that began with B or D, which was ironic since you were my boyfriend and my best friend’s name is Desiree. I remember holding the phone to my ear and practicing asking, “Is David there?” And right when I thought I could do it, your mom would answer and I froze up, started to stutter and then hung up. Thankfully, those were the days before caller ID. You were fun, funny and chewed a lot of gum. I hope you are doing well.

[1994 & 1998]

Dear J,

You were my first “love.” You are still the only boy to ever give me a ring. You were so kind-hearted and loyal. I look back on our young love fondly, but I doubt you do. I’m sorry about that time I freaked-out and threw my Oreo Blizzard on the dashboard of my car outside of Dairy Queen. I’m sure you were thinking, “What a freak” and I don’t blame you. And I’m sorry about every other time I was a complete melodramatic spaz. This was years before I was diagnosed with mood disorder and panic attacks. Aren’t you glad you dodged that bullet? I’m also sorry I cheated on you. You didn’t deserve that. Then when you broke up with me I chased you home after school and fell onto your living room floor in a fit of anguish as if I were having a seizure. It was nice running into you at a party in 2000. I’m sorry I pulled you aside to read you the poems I wrote about you after our 1997 break-up. At the time, I thought it was a fabulous idea. It wasn’t. I assure you, my poetry days are over as I could never really comprehend iambic pentameter. And if reading you poetry after a party wasn’t embarrassing enough, I mailed you a letter to your parent’s house confessing feelings or anger that you never contacted me after that party. I hope you are well and I promise to never Facebook friend request you.

[1996-1997]

Dear PA,

Of all my young loves, you were my favorite. Before we dated, I would park my Ford Taurus “grocery-getter” station wagon in the shadows of Phalen Park and watch you skateboard. You didn’t know I was watching, which I now realize is creepy. I’d listen to Mariah Carey’s “All I want for Christmas is You” while I watched you do kick flips and ollies. It was June, but I always had difficulty living in the present. I was intrigued by your big skater pants and I wanted to know everything about you. I had my friend Annie ask you what you thought of me in the hallway of our high school. I was elated to find out that you thought I was “cute.” Soon after that you signed my yearbook. Your message was short, but at the time was the most powerful thing I had ever read. You included your phone number and then wrote “4:20” underneath it. I thought that was the time you wanted me to call you, so I did. You became my best friend. You introduced me to cool music like Sublime, Tool, The Deftones and Ani DiFranco. I think you may be one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. You followed me to college in Wisconsin where we would take long walks, chain smoke and talk about politics as if we were going to change the world, but instead we just funded big tobacco by buying more cigarettes. I’m sorry I would repeatedly sing that part of Bob Seger’s, “Night Moves” to you. A little too tall. Could have used a few pounds. You were tall and lanky and I thought it was funny at the time. Plus, I had undiagnosed OCD and had to sing it exactly eight times in order to feel whole. I’m also sorry that I made you watch the movie “Dream A Little Dream” over and over and over again. I was mortified when I discovered that you could fit into my jeans. We were drunk off Grainbelt Premium beer when I had the great idea for you to try on my jeans. They fit, but then you bent over split them open. We laughed so hard. I’m also sorry I cried a lot. I still do, but now I embrace it as more of a hobby and I refrain from doing it in public. I’m quite sure that I confused the hell out of you each and every day. And I’m sorry that while unloading the dishwasher at my parent’s house during one of our heated arguments, I shook the top drawer with a Hulk-like intensity and then fell to the floor and had a panic attack.  My mom still doesn’t understand why her dishwasher is lop-sided, but she will now. Sorry Mom. You walked out of my house and I chased you to your turquoise Saturn and begged you to stay. You did. You’ll be happy to know that I no longer break stuff when I’m mad.  I’ve learned to channel my anger into obsessive compulsively eating Chewy Sweet Tarts and applying lip gloss.  I think every guy looks back on his relationships and remembers that one “crazy ex-girlfriend” and I’m afraid, I was yours.

[1997-1999 and then some of 2000 or something like that]

Dear MB,

You get the longest letter of all since we dated for pretty much the entirety of my 20’s. I’d say that I gave you the best years of my life, but if those were my best years, I hope I can Marty McFly-it back for a do-over. We met at the Timber lodge Steakhouse in Stillwater, Minn. I was a server and you were a line cook. You’d sneak me free cheesy hash browns during our shifts and during after-work parties with our co-workers, we’d drink white zinfandel out of a box and talk about space and The Matrix. You had a beautiful smile and a soft charm, but you also had a large tribal tattoo and listened to music like 3 Doors Down. I used these horrible traits to try and convince myself that I didn’t want to date you. We became great friends and then you asked me to be your girlfriend in a dark alley in St. Paul, Minn. I accepted. We were inseparable. You were the first guy I ever lived with. You described yourself as a “horizontal thinker” to justify your messiness. Years later, I think this also attributed to your unfaithfulness. You locked your cell phone and told me that it wasn’t because you had something to hide, but because you needed some form of privacy. You were never one for a conventional job and always had a Get Rich Quick scheme in your back pocket. You tried to sell gumball machines and knives with no success. We moved across the country to Arizona together. It was wonderful until you bought your first pair of True Religion jeans. Through most of our relationship, you were a flirt and I was a mess. Thank you for taking me out of my comfort zone. I don’t think I would have ever moved out of Minnesota if it wasn’t for you. And thank you for leaving me in 2009 to spend the summer in Europe. I know this was not your intention, but this time apart was actually a gift to me. It allowed me to focus on my stand-up comedy and learn to live without you. When I finally found actual proof that you were cheating on me with a vegan named, Valerie who was majoring in “art” at Scottsdale Community College, I was devastated, but not surprised. I’m sorry I wasn’t easier to be in a relationship with. Every break-up is 50/50 and I take full responsibility for my part. I’m sorry I was so annoying that it forced you to step out on me with what just may be the most annoying of the female species – a meatless girl who “paints” butterflies, listens to Rufus Wainwright and is obsessed with Harajuku fashion. I am glad we were never friends on Facebook or else we would have had to go through that weird social-networking break-up. I’m sorry I never understood your long talks and visits with your “friend” Katie from college or that time you were voluntarily unemployed and asked our hot 22-year-old neighbor to lunch while I was at work. Good luck in the future and don’t ever leave your Hotmail email account open on your already suspicious girlfriend’s laptop.

[2001-2009, with a few small breaks]