Dear You,

Thanks for your email informing me that in the two weeks I have been overseas, you have started seeing someone else. I was comforted and touched by your wish that this news would not “spin me out”. I was also most cheered by your breezy sign-off: “Anywho (sic), must run”. Your generous, fun spirit is one of the things I like most about you.

Since we are being honest with each other here, I would like to state, for the record, that I am not a nymphomaniac – as you have romantically suggested on more than one occasion. (Though perhaps this is how you justified liaising with me while also, I gather, pursuing your new lady? You were doing me a favour, because I just loooooove sex so much.)

No, the truth is that, as with most women, my libido rears its pretty head in the presence of a man I like and care about, and whom I I think likes and cares about me. The reverse also applies, by the way, which is probably why I would now rather shag a cactus – the kind with the big, flat leaves – than let you anywhere near me again.

Not that we ever actually shagged, mind you – given you never achieved a full erection or penetration in our short time together. I was especially interested to hear how this was my fault; apparently I am “too tight”. With a bit of luck, your new lady friend will have a vagina the size a small inland lake. That should put some wind in your sail.

Oh, in addition to the never-ending joy of your flaccid penis, it looks as though you may have shared something else with me as well: your  venereal disease.

Despite our precautions, I – at last! – have something red, hot and throbbing between my legs. I expect my GP will want to send me for a herpes test. Perhaps you gave it to me during one of the many oral-sex sessions in which I faked orgasms so you could feel good about yourself.

Meanwhile, I do hope your new friend enjoys giving head with a condom as much as I did. Oh, how I will miss the yummy taste and soothing squeak of latex in my mouth. I will similarly treasure the memory of you watching cricket and then falling asleep during the act.

When I do see the doctor, I shall ask for a package deal with the breast biopsy I am having to see if I have cancer. You didn’t say anything about the biopsy, or ask my thoughts on it, in your email – even though you are well aware of it. I can only assume you are so choked up about it that you simply could not bare to mention it.

But enough about me and my piddling concerns.

In signing off, let me say that I hope you are coping with all the dramas in your life; the ones that you always used as an excuse for not returning my phone calls. Happily, you can now cross me off your list of “complications”, as you once lovingly described me.

Toodles, generous friend.