I thought I loved you. Seriously, when we were “dating,” before I made the big commitment, I couldn’t get enough of you. Maybe it was the fact that you played hard to get, appearing only on the mornings when you hadn’t already been picked up by someone else at the few local stores that stocked you. Sometimes I’d just have to settle for going to the coffee shop on Sunday morning, hoping to see you there in the arms of a stranger.

But now that I have you I mistreat you. I generally ignore you except for a few of your less demanding features–the “Modern Love” column, the magazine, the pictures of New York fashion trends. I read your front page and the week review out of duty. I don’t always appreciate your intelligence. And I hardly ever tackled your crossword puzzle. Half of your pages (business, sports) go straight to the recycling bin.

Sorry, but I’m just not that into you.

***

Dear New Yorker;

We met casually once and it you seemed interesting, if a bit old for me (those cartoons… really?) But once I subscribed to you you turned into one of those stalker type dates who wouldn’t leave me alone. Maybe if you only came around once a month I’d be more interested. But every week you show up on my doorstep, and in the end I just tossed you aside. Unless you had an article by David Sedaris. It wasn’t enough to keep me around.

Once I rejected you things just got worse. The letters, the e-mails, the last chance bargaining, the ultimatums. I mean come-on. You’ll just have to face the truth: I’m just not that into you.

***

Dear Glamour,

We have an on again, off again relationship. I just can’t seem to shake you. You’ve been in my life since I was a teenager, always there with a word of advice or a fashion tip. When I see you in the grocery store I’m always happy to see you, and want to pick you up and hold you. But you’re kind of predictable, and I don’t think you’ve changed over the last 15 years as much as I have. Everytime you start talking about the best forms of birth control or new skin cleansers or how spring florals are in (again) I just want to tune out. But somehow I’m a sucker for your do’s and don’ts. So I guess I’ll stay with you for now, but really, I’m just not that into you.

***

Dear Wired,

You think you’re so hip, with your flashy colors and shiny pages and articles about tech-y things. But I only brought you here out of mild curiosity, and a free voucher from some air miles I figured I’d never use anyway. Your attempts to seem cool seem kind of like you are trying to comb over a bald spot. I guess I’m just not into geek chic. Or you.

***