I’m writing to express my sincere appreciation for your attention to me. As you have so wisely discerned, I’ve taken a bit of a break from the outside world in order to complete a project I’ve been working on for quite some time now. Thanks very much for drawing me back in to the real world with your constant phoning. The effort you put in to reaching me alone is impressive. And the variety! Why, you’ve phoned me from three different numbers this week alone, and it’s only Tuesday. I wait with bated breath to see the next combination of digits that grace my phone.
I must ask, however, that you stop your efforts. Being an ungrateful sod, I can’t appreciate your time nearly as much as some. You’ve left one message in which I could actually hear your beautiful voice. Thanks for that as well. What’s impressed me most, however, is the sound of your modem grinding and the sound of your breathing in to the phone as if you haven’t even realised that someone could be listening on the other end. My voice mailbox nearly melted with the excitement of it all.
I’ve learnt your game, though. I’ve researched you and come to the painful realisation that you’re phoning others as well. How could you, after all we’ve been through? The ignoring phase, the messages… I thought I meant something to you. You’ve spent so much time on me that I thought what we had was special.
But again, I don’t have the fine and cultured taste that would be necessary to fully grasp your greatness. My mobile phone as well simply cannot take the stress of anticipating your calls. Poor tiny thing lights up every time it sees your number(s) glowing on its little screen. It even beeps repeatedly to let me know you’ve phoned while I was away. Even my phone can appreciate you more than I. It’s very sad, really.
Please accept the effort it’s taken me to answer your latest calls and press the ‘9’ key repeatedly. I’m hoping the sound will be music to your ears, whether in person or through the message system that sometimes speaks for you. I’m hoping the lovely sound of that key singing to you will repeat in your head until you’ve forgotten me at last, for I know someday you’ll find someone better. Until then, I remain