The Oreo Experience

I wanted to apologize to you for two things. One, that I’m not going to return your heartfelt message; and two, that you’re having a hard time with context clues.

While I appreciated your note which read thusly: 

HI YOUR SO PRETTY WUD LUV TO GET WIT U I WERE LOOKING AT YOUR PICS HIT ME WHEN GET A CHANCE WaNNa HoLlA AT U

Your note makes it pretty clear that you and I would not last long as an item. Nevermind the you’re/your issue and the unnecessary use of screamy ALL CAPS, I’m more concerned that after scanning my photos and seeing my lily white blanchetourage gaggle of freckled friends, shots of me performing avant garde theater and standing outside of Austrian cathedrals, you chose the above line to introduce yourself to me.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I understand the benefits of dating an Oreo, but if that’s what your after, you should chose your words more carefully. The following are some examples of the kind of things that will get the attention of an anglo-enthusiast like myself.

• “…You remind me of a teacher I had when I was studying at The Globe…”

• “…Listen, I’ve got box seats for the Canadiens and for Carmen this weekend. Would like to join me at either?”

• “Quiche lorraine, honey blueberry blintzes or an Eric Rohmer retrospective…which would you prefer for breakfast?”

• You’re making my heart feel as high as I was while I was show jumping last week. 

• “Die jurk kijkt echt goed op u. Ik wed dat ik zal, ook.” 

Now, it’s only fair to say that OreoWriter is spoken for. So sorry gentlemen, and that one lesbian I may have misrepresented myself to at the CLO auction party the other week. I really wanted that tenor to leave me alone. Just because he had a paddle does not mean I wanted him to do anything with it.