Dear Tim,

If you’re wondering why I won’t return your calls, it’s not because I don’t like you. It’s not because the dinner wasn’t great, or your sports car didn’t impress me. It’s not even because when you went in to kiss me goodnight there was a little bit of food left in your right front tooth. While that did bother me a little bit, it’s what I saw later on that night that bothered me even more.

When you were in the bathroom, I decided to do my womanly duty of snooping around the home of a potential lovers items. I made the unretractable mistake of wandering into your room and seeing inside the closet. What I saw on that day has never left me. It might’ve been better had I found dead bodies in there over what I saw.

You know what I’m talking about. Oh my oh my, how you know what I’m talking about! For the love of god man, do you even USE that closet for the clothes you actually wear? What if the shirt you’re looking for is on the bottom of one of the many 5 foot high piles of clothes? How on earth do you decide what is clean and what is dirty when it’s all thrown together in a cesspool of orgiastic closet dis-organization?

That, my dear, is why I am not returning your calls. Perhaps if you took the time to educate yourself (suggestion: the Closet Organizers Guide is a decent place to start) and rectify the situation, I might consider you an ex boyfriend instead of just a stranger I never met. That’s the best I can offer.

Best Wishes,

Sarah