I'm sorry I couldn't come to your show tonight. I wanted to, I really did, but I'm still sorry I went to the last one. Not that it was bad, not at all. It was actually really great. What I'm sorry about is that I believed, when I heard your lead actress quote things I had actually said to you in real life, that the play was about you and me. I'm sorry I believed that when the lead actor didn't walk out on the relationship, when he stayed despite his terror, I believed it meant you were going to stay, too. I'm sorry I read too much into things.

I know you've got the friend in town anyway, the married one who needs you to lead him into the night toward what will be for him some kind of simulated debauchery. A drunken night out with a (technically) single guy like yourself, in Manhattan, is, for the married suburb dwellers, satisfying. But I wonder if it will be a tease, ya know? Will he return home and waste time feeling sorry for himself, wishing there were more nights like that? Will he return home and apologize, silently, to his wife for thinking such things? Or will he realize that nights out in New York City with a (technically) single guy like yourself are fun, but only for a minute? Will he end up feeling sorry for you?

My only advice for your night is this: While I know you want to show him a good time, don't slip him acid in the form of a post-meal breath mint. Remember when you did that to me? In Queens? You worried you might have to apologize to me then, but I was thrilled. It was the first truly spring-like day of the season, and we ate stinky street food and you gave me a mint, laced with LSD. Once I realized I was tripping, you took me to Roosevelt Island. There were Cherry Blossoms bursting, and we walked down the boulevard of blooms together. Our destination? Creepy abandoned insane asylum. I felt like an acid bride on her way to a haunted house honeymoon. How fitting.

I am not sorry you drugged me. I am only sorry that the day, where we were suspended in a drug-induced bliss of believing it would last forever, ever had to end.

*Read at The Apologies show on 4/5/07*