It's over. You have no say of what or who I do. You can't tempt me with your erotic text message poetry. I told you I loved Bella, or as I lovingly call her, Balls. And we don't make mad love, like you surely accuse me of. We make angry love. GARRRRRHHHHGGGHHHHHH!!
However, I must say, after I was caught l-l-l-l-licking Emmett's lollipop by Bella, and word spread all around Forks, you were the only one who could look me in the eye. But, I find it weird that nobody questioned me about the blowjob I gave him a week later. It seemed like me doing that would raise more eyebrows than stealing his DumDum pop. You were the only one who called me so I could make it juicy for you. And even though I'm getting married, I still think about you often. Why, after I lubricated your cleavage by dribbling my lips in them, attempting the motorboat, I knew that you'd hold a special place in my dormant heart. I still have a box full of your used condoms. I sniff them sometimes and cry myself to sleep on the inside.
Who knows? Maybe Balls will be the only woman for me. But who am I kidding? There's a place for two women in my seductive world.
Sexually yours (but not really),
P.S. I make-a plunge into your hole! Let me see your beaver hole!