Hey, You!

So it is now three weeks since you left me stranded at the airport after you dropped me off with “I love you” and failed to pick me up when I came back. I stood in the rain for two and a half hours waiting, so sure you would be there, but of course you had better things to do. I still have not heard from you, but you will be hearing from my attorney real soon, and the karma that you are going to suffer from the crappy things you have done to me: the money you owe me, you still have my car and my phone. What did you think? This would just go away? Was she worth it? I hope whoever she is she breaks your heart like you did mine. Me? I found a man who can get it up, doesn't weigh 337 pounds, and even though he was never on ExtremeMakeover, I am happier than I was during the torture of the two years I stupidly put up with your crap. I have one thing to say to you: you better watch your back. I know you read this magazine and you will see this column.

Send anonymous thanks, confessions or accusations—changing or deleting the names of the guilty and innocent—to “Hey, You!” c/o OC Weekly, 1666 N. Main St., Ste. 500, Santa Ana, CA 92701-7417, or e-mail us at le*****@oc******.com.

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