Dear InStyle: Here we are again.
Despite my repeated rebuffs (and, more formally, my total contractual break with any and all financial obligations — I refused in writing to continue your upkeep and maintenance costs and received many verbal assurances that I would never see you again)…. Despite all that, you seem to have some misinformed and doggedly romantic sensibilities. Why can’t you leave me alone?
For the third month in a row, InStyle, you’ve continued to hang around my doorstep, uninvited, unencouraged, and–rather humiliatingly–right on the heels of one or the other of my current involvements (Vogue and Vanity Faire… a girl who isn’t ready to commit simply must have options, after all).
And monthly, InStyle, you continue to offer the same tired wares I bluntly refused a few months ago. As is to be expected with any relationship past its prime, your repeated efforts to rekindle are having quite the reverse effect than you intended…. and worse, I must tell you.
True, InStyle, you certainly deserve the points for determination. And I’ll grant, you really have—visibly—tried to spruce yourself up a bit… brighter colors, and a truly astounding array of some of my favorite actresses have graced your covers the past few months.
But on closer, prolonged inspection, I continue to find more and more irritants, all of which threaten the –heretofore– treasured sweetness of nostalgia for the good times we shared. I don’t want you to ruin it all for me!
Really, InStyle. Enough is enough. Please just leave it at that and leave.me.alone.