This is a verbatim reproduction of what I believe will be my final letter to Holly.
When you told me that you weren't interested in me, I assumed that this was because you had felt the position of “boyfriend” was redundant and better filled through a combination of existing social contacts. But then I caught a glimpse of you and a dark-haired male sitting together at a Starbucks. Although my busy agenda precluded extensive observations, I did see unmistakable signs of a budding romantic relationship. From my distant vantage point, I could tell that you were holding hands, that you acted affectionately towards one another, and that you had arranged a dinner date for the only night that week that fitted your respective schedules.
Curious, I wasted no time in getting online and soon discovered not only your online dating profile, but with some intuition, the profile of one “Mark Harrison” as well. But it was not until I had analyzed your listed prerequisites and Mark’s fulfillment of them that I began to feel truly incensed. For in every single category, I was undoubtedly at least as proficient as he was. But in spite of that, you still turned me down for him.
Now, I don't need to hear your excuses, because I already know what's going on. You bigots are all the same. You can't see past your irrational prejudice against bald people. I'm sorry, it's not as if I can change to suit your whims. It was not my fault that I was genetically predisposed to male pattern baldness, nor was it my fault that I needed to burn my hair in order to remove bugging devices.
No doubt you’re currently trying to avoid confronting this discomforting truth by attempting to convince yourself that I do in fact have sufficiently disqualifying character defects. But I’m afraid you’re wrong, as I shall show you.
Firstly, you said that you wanted a man who could make you laugh. Well, I’m pretty sure that I would fulfill that criterion, for humor is my main strength. I get laughed at all the time, even when I'm not trying in the slightest to be funny. Sure, most of it is by children whose parents quickly apologize. (I wave it off because their noise doesn't bother me). But since you also mentioned being a "child at heart", I believe this makes me very suitable.
Secondly, you mentioned a fondness for candlelit dinners. This is another area in which I am very capable. I'm confident that few people have as much experience with candlelit dinners as I do. Granted, most of those occasions did arise as a consequence of my power being cut off. Still, from a purely technical standpoint, it's just as good. You need to be able to have confidence that your dining companion isn't going to spill wax all over your beef-flavored sausages or worse, set fire to the tablecloth that was needed for the bed. Which reminds me – on a related note, hair is a notorious fire hazard and my lack of it helps me abide by your presumed safety standards.
Finally, you stated that the most important trait of all in a potential partner is "having a keen sense of adventure". Now, others might claim to be adventurous, but how do you know they’re not just all talk? I, for one, have physical evidence supporting my assertion. If you were to look through my video game collection, you'd come across numerous instances of the word. The Adventures of Batman & Robin. Adventure Island. Snoopy's Erotic Adventures. Do these sound like indicators of someone who is unadventurous?!
You might not think that this is such a big deal. But what you are in fact doing is helping to enforce a cycle of intolerance that has continued for centuries, if not longer. I think back to my grandfather, who was rejected by all females he applied to until he resigned himself to settling for a tramp. Further back still, I have ancestors who were forced into unpaid work in the kitchen for decades until they were finally freed by wives. You just can't understand what it feels like unless you're bald yourself.
Don’t get me wrong. If you don’t want to make me happy, that’s fine. Treat me with contempt so long as you treat everyone else with contempt. What I’m really against is you making someone else happy.Yours,
P.S. Mark seems to be a bit of a loser anyway.