March 1, 2023
Dear Paige Spiranac’s Cleavage,
It’s over.
It’s not me. It’s you.
You’re ubiquitous, in my face all the time, everywhere I turn, there you are.
Yet you remain stoic, and give me nothing back.
You demand my attention with your powerful femininity.
You flirt with other boys and girls and thems all the time, by the thousands.
I always feel double-teamed and out-witted when we argue. (Ok, the 2nd one is on me).
There is a weird head hanging over you, with a lot of teeth. It freaks me out sometimes.
And it looks like you’re putting on some weight.
I was helpless for so long.
I used to click … now I scroll.
My eyes used to linger … now they roll.
I’m over You. It’s just getting boring, babe. I’m filtering you out.
And do please remember: it’s you, not me.