Rejection Form Letter

Help for Single (and Spineless) Guys If you're like me (and I know you are), you probably date quite a bit, and also like me, you find blowing off a chick the most difficult part of the dating process. After a second or perhaps third date that we know didn't go at all well, the closest we ever come to telling a chick it's over is to look her straight in the eye and say, "I'll call you next week." Of course, we have no intention of calling her and we may even feel a slight twinge of guilt. But I have discovered a great way to blow a chick off. It's safe. It's affordable, and the best thing is the chick has no opportunity to throw things at you. And it's at your fingertips right now.


That's how all the happening, 90's kind of guys are telling chicks they're not worthy. You'll feel like a real man knowing you have told her how you really feel from the safety of your keyboard. And you can delete her response without ever reading it. What could be more painless?

I have drafted the enclosed Email rejection letter and invite you to use it the next time you need to put your main squeeze on waivers.

The text of the letter follows. Hope it comes in handy.

Dear (her name),

I regret to inform you that you have been eliminated from further contention to become the future Mrs. (your last name). As you are probably aware, the competition was exceedingly tough this year and dozens of well-qualified candidates such as yourself also failed to make the final cut.

I will, however, keep your name on file should an opening come available or I become extremely horny.

So that you may find better success in your future romantic endeavors, please allow me to offer the following reason(s) you were disqualified from the competition: (Check those that apply)

Your failure to reach for your purse even in a feigned attempt to pay for dinner by the fourth date displayed a stunning ignorance of basic economics.
Your inadvertent admission that you "buy condoms and K-Y Jelly by the truckload" indicates that you may be slightly over-qualified for this position.
You failed the 20 Question Rule, i.e., I asked you 20 questions about yourself before you asked me more than one about myself.
The only question you asked was how much money I make.
You neglected to reach over and unlock my car door from the inside after I opened the passenger side door for you.
Your height is out of proportion to your weight. If you should, however, happen to gain the necessary 17 vertical inches, please resubmit your application.
Your surprise at learning Paul McCartney was indeed in another band prior to Wings revealed you do not meet my age requirements.
The fact that you attended the University of Miami and/or root for the Miami Hurricanes demonstrated that you do not meet my intelligence requirements.
Your repeated comments such as, "Is it still called a penis when it's this small?" were both uncalled for and thoughtless.
The way you enthusiastically jumped up on the stage at the alternative bar and danced with the lesbians demonstrated that you are far too impressionable and have a disconcerting lack of commitment to heterosexuality.
Your revelation that you would most certainly allow your ex-boyfriend to shack up with you again after he "beats that domestic abuse rap" shows compassion but makes it difficult to take you seriously.
Although your inability to achieve orgasm was of paramount importance to me, your suggestion that we invite the basketball team into the bedroom during our sexual encounters so it would be "just like" your college days seemed somewhat extreme and inappropriate.
As a practice I do not normally discriminate against single mothers, and although I understand the youngster was named for her father, I do not think "Sturgis, South Dakota" is an appropriate name for a little girl.
Your revelation that you, a 30-year-old, had dated your previous boyfriend, an alcoholic, for 16 years raised some serious questions about your mental state.
I am out of your league; set your sights lower next time.


Your Name (Optional)

Submitted By: Robert Klugiewicz
Apr 1, 1997 10:00

This joke is rated: R