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The Real Dear John Story

I really like the movie ‘Dear John’ and the subtle love quotes that are within it. Have you seen it? No? You need to go rent it… Like… Now.

Kidding, but basically it’s a love story blah blah blah, and the story plays out through love letters back and forth from the girl and her man, who happens to be named John. The title makes sense now, right?

After watching the movie for the 99th time, I decided to write my very own Dear Jon John.
So without further ado, let’s take it back to 2010 and somewhere, I hope you find some relationship advice within it… Or just never date a guy named Jon, Jon, Jonn, Jonathan, Jonathon etc.

This is my Dear John.



Dear Jon John,

I will never forget the first day we met. We were both at the nastiest bar getting even more nasty drunk on the grimiest dance floor that you could possibly find in the city. We spent the entire night laughing and dancing up on stage, busting out dance moves that should never, ever be seen again. We had a blast.

When last call came, we shot down a few more drinks and gathered each of our friends to head on over to the pizza shop to drunkenly stuff our face.

It was love at first sight.

The truth is, the very first night we met, when we were standing outside of that pizza shop, I saw the look on your face when someone brought up your “crazy ex” as they would say. It was at that moment that I knew I should have ran. However, I made the mistake of giving you the benefit of the drunken doubt.

I decided to give you a chance. Two years of chance. One god damn big ass chance.

You know, when we were dating I used to hate looking at photos of us. Mind you, we always looked happy and were smiling, but with every smile, I knew that there were so many more tears and so much more misery behind it. Every smile was ruined by a worse moment – often a moment with your ex girlfriend threatening to kill me, pull knives out, stalk me, steal your car, harass me, show up at my parties, try to fight me, etc. You remember all those moments? I bet you don’t.

You robbed me.

You robbed me of love.




It took me 2 years to realize it, and I finally did the hardest thing that I have ever done before. I left, and I left for good. And now, an additional 2 years after leaving you, I can finally say that I have healed from the pain you caused.

While your ex girlfriend, who tortured me to the god damn death of us, has moved on to victimize herself in another man’s life, you are left to live a scarless life and relationship – never facing the truth and reality of what truly happened behind our closed doors.

When it wasn’t your ex girlfriend going crazy and stalking us, it was your friends. I always hated your friends. You probably had no idea because I always put a smile on and played nice. They had absolutely no respect for you, and even when you decided to travel with them to Asia for 6 months, I stuck by your side only to find out you were a cheating bastard – with their motivation quotes….

“Different hoes, different area codes.”

Remember that time that I let you borrow my car to go visit family and you snuck off to a girls house – on our last night together before we couldn’t see or talk to each other for 6 months as you were overseas. The very girl who tortured me for years prior to this, but you didn’t want to ‘hurt her feelings’ because she was crazy and suicidal? Remember that? How about the time you finally moved away from that situation, only to sneak her into your house behind my back. The 3AM phone calls with girl’s names crawling over the screen? You may have forgotten, but I haven’t.

And I hate you for that.

This summer you came over to see me. You were just beginning a new relationship, but still came to see me. As much as I loved your company, I couldn’t help but look you in the face and say, “You are doing to her – exactly what you did to me. You are sneaking off behind her back to go see your ex.”

You were so dumbfounded.

I then said, “I will never do to another girl, what your ex did to me.” And we never saw each other again. It sucks being the one who changed you for the rest.

I could go on and on and tell the world about what truly happened, but I’m going to pull a ‘you’ and turn my head the other way. The moral of the ‘Dear John’ story is,

The victim is always the sufferer. The torturer goes off without one scar.

But do they really?

It took me 2 years to finally get to a place where I can trust someone enough to actually be in a relationship. As for you, you’ll have to live with your actions for the rest of your life.

Who’s really the one getting off free now?

This is my version of Dear John.


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