Archive for the ‘Sincerely’ Category

My dear ladies,

I came across this letter from a gentleman and must ask your opinion.

Dear Miss — :

During this past year, which it has been my singular good fortune to be recognized favorably amongst your host of friends and admirers, I have been tempted, time and again, to confide to you a secret which lies nearest of all to my heart; but until now I have been restrained by an irrepressible doubt of my worthiness to aspire to so great a happiness as that which I now am about to ask at you hands.

Ever since I first had the honor and extreme pleasure of your acquaintance I have felt creeping upon me, with ever-growing force, signs of a sentiment far stronger than that of respectful regard and admiration.

If this frank avowal does not fail to meet with a disposition on your part, at least, to cultivate a responsive sentiment, should such not yet be the state of your feelings, will you do me the honor to recognize my suit and accept me as an ardent aspirant for your heart and hand?

Earnestly hoping for an early and favorable reply,
I am, very respectfully yours,

Mr. —

Is it a good letter? The penmanship is confident. I must hear your opinions.

Sincerely yours,
Lady de Mimsy-Porpington


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I’d like to begin with an apology. A weak beginning, I’m afraid, but
in my case a necessary one. First, I apologize for my slip from what
seems to be, in this particular venue, the accepted vernacular. Rest
assured, I’ll probably slip back from time to time.
Second, I apologize that this isn’t as witty as your might like it to
be. This is a trifle intentional, as it both increases my chances of
impressing by contrast at a later date and decreases the chances of
intimidating would-be submitters who have things to say.
Third, I apologize to myself for beginning such an ambitious project
so late at night. My homework isn’t finished, and I’ll probably regret
this in the morning.

My husband left today. Not an infrequent occurrence, as most people
who know me will tell you. It’s not that he doesn’t love me enough to
stay; au contrair– it’s because he loves me too much to quit his job.
(He did offer once, though. An interesting conversation to have on the
third date.) In the beginning, I was very unhappy when he was gone. As
a young bride, going about my life without someone to come home to was
disconcerting, lonely, and boring. Also, empty houses scare me. I’ve
never done well being home alone. Once in high school, I scared myself
so badly that I called the police. Luckily, being 17 and living in a
small town are enough to not make them mad about those kinds of false
alarms. I spent a week alone in my apartment once; by the third day, I
demanded that my then-fiance come and inspect the house for intruders
in the empty bedrooms. Living in this house alone hasn’t been easy,
either. No close calls with police or needing strong men to inspect
the house, but that’s only because I’ve mustered up the courage to
check the spare room myself. Then I would run and hide under the
covers while I waited to fall asleep. Nowadays I feel a little more
comfortable in my house; it’s best if I come home before dark, though,
and keep music or the TV on while I’m awake.
il_430xn_298454481The other thing about living alone is the talking. I think about
things, and because I’m a thespian, those thoughts tend to emerge as
inner monologue. Not having people around removes certain inhibitions
that I have, and suddenly the inner monologue is an outer one. I
worry, though. Because often, I not only talk to myself. I answer
back. What if, one day, that voice that replies to me becomes someone
other than me? What if it acquires a personality (beyond general
sass)? What if it even starts to have a name?? I could easily become
schizophrenic, or acquire multiple personality disorder, and not even
realize it until it’s too late. (Like a job interview, or on the
witness stand. Both times when it’s far too late.) This could
seriously jeopardize my status of “gainfully employed” or “not in

And that, my friends, is why I should never live alone.

Sincerely Yours,
Mrs. Elliot

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