Dear Sir

Dear Sir Who Has No Name,

I want to apologize for never learning your name, or making that a priority in our brief relationship. You will forever be nameless for me, yet an infamous part of my tales of England. I never took the moment to ask where you were from or what you were doing in Leeds. I believe that our introductory conversation was a total of five minutes long, consisting mostly of “You’ve got an American accent!” and “Yes I do! And you have an English accent! We should totally fuck.” That’s when you pulled one of the smoothest moves I’ve ever seen and casually secured me making it to your bed that night. You had me convinced that every college student’s favorite drunchies place, McDonalds, was closed, when in fact I believe it is open 24 hours based on the homeless population that was stationed outside of it. Your suggestion to hop in a cab and head to the second best drunchies place, Crunchies, was readily accept and I piled into the backseat with you without any hesitation or forethought about how I was a naive American student in England, and you were some random student who I had pulled off the streets, in the post-club-closing cattle heard of drunken messes looking to secure some company to bring home to make the night a true success. I never once considered what kind of person you might be, or what STDs might already be crawling all over your dick. I didn’t use much brain power in this situation at all, and that was the purpose of it. I had decided that I wanted to have the ideal one night stand while studying abroad, and you just so happened to be the lucky man with an accent who crossed paths with me on an especially intoxicated evening at the end of my 6 month stay abroad. It is nothing against you, and you were fine specimen of a college student at the time. I was the foreign exchange student who everyone in class was intimidated to talk to, until the last evening out at the bars when all my classmates appeared to be playing Pin the American. You were the only winner in that game though, based on sheer dumb luck and good looks.

Perhaps ones day our paths will cross again in life, however, please do not be hurt when I do not recognize you. I have a more vivid memory of your room and man cave of a home, versus your face. I can remember that the sex was good and you gave an impressive performance at 6:00am, even after being out at the clubs all evening. I remember rousing you before your head could hit the sheets, and explaining that I’m not the type of girl who stuck around for a snuggle after sex, and you being enough of a gentleman to wake your roommate, borrow his car, and drive me to my apartment still tipsy. You gave me a brief kiss goodbye, and I hopped out of the car without ever learning your name, getting your number, or even looking back at you. I do clearly remember the look on my classmate’s face when I passed him on my Walk of Shame home though, of devastation after investing so much time speaking with me and inviting me out, and then for me to have so obviously chosen to end my evening with a random man in my bed. Us American girls can be cold hearted bitches, but that was not my intention. I had wanted to check off a couple of bucket list items, including sleeping with a man with an accent and having a picturesque one night stand. Thank you for helping me kill two birds with one stone, I hope that our night together earned you bragging rights for a week at least with the mates, and I apologize for not sticking around to be paraded around for their observation. If you ever need proof that it happened or that I am not a slag, let me know via a carrier pigeon and I will send you a nudie for reference.

Cheers,

Her

P.S. I would like to return to Leeds one day, and revisit all the memories created in that city. I am so disappointed that I was not able to join my international mates for the reunion tour this past year, but then again, I know that it would never be the same place that I remember. There will be different homeless people hanging out outside McDonalds, different students falling out of dorm windows from being too drunk in too high of heels, and different men to select from after an evening at the bars. Your face will not be among them anymore; but then again, I wouldn’t be able to recognize it even if it was.

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