I know you’ve been googling me. In fact, I know you’ve been googling me for the past 8 months. I know that you google me more than once a day. I know that you have particularly frenetic days when you google me up to 30 times (yes, 30 times).
I know that sometimes you add strange words to my name when you google me. Words like ‘boyfriend’, ‘address’ and ‘wearing a dress’. For half a second I feel flattered by your obsessive googling, but mostly I just feel like it’s time you moved on.
Now, I don’t really mind you googling me. But I would imagine your boss probably doesn’t pay you to google me (I know that you google me from work), and that he pays you to do whatever it is that he pays you to do. You should probably just get on with it. In my experience, getting on with it can be very therapeutic.
I wanted to help you move on, since you are clearly having trouble doing so on your own. And I just wanted to remind you why you and I would never have worked.
You kept snakes, and one night your albino python escaped and entwined itself on our bed between our legs. I woke you up and asked you to move your legs. You told me to move my legs. We looked down, and there was a python. That was the day I moved out, remember? There was a python in our bed, attached to your body, and it wasn’t your penis.
Another reason it didn’t work is because I am hot, and you ‘have character’. Let’s get real. Every girl goes through that phase where she dates a guy who’s beneath her because he ‘makes her laugh’. You know what doesn’t make me laugh? The fact that you’re googling me 20 times a day. That makes me giggle nervously in front of the budget trauma counselor my medical aid suggested I talk to. You need to understand: we only dated for a month, years ago, and I just wasn’t that into you.
I have no doubt in my mind that you are reading this (since you must have found my blog in your google travels), and you’re probably thinking that this is some strange coincidence, that there is no way I could know that you’re googling me. But Archibald, I really do know that it’s you, thanks to this site. This little site called wikiworldbook, which is nothing short of an online, stalker-prevention miracle, has been telling me about your google sessions for months now. It shows me what you’re searching for when you find my name, and it shows me which of my many sites you click on. It shows me where you’re googling from (which is why I know you’re doing it from work). It shows me numbers. And it’s shown me YOU.
NEwayz, lets get real here. Googling my name can’t be that much fun. So I suggest you quit it. Google albino pythons or albino python facebook apps something. I see that you do have a blog about them (yeah, I googled you, except I used the same site that told me how much you were googling me, since it just does people). It also told me that you belong to a flickr group entitled ‘Chicks and pythons’.Chicks. And. Pythons. Now that’s a niche fetish. Not something you wanna go bragging about over dinner / at the watercooler / while you wait for your python documentary to download. So how about you forget about me, and I’ll forget about the pythons.
*you know who you are