I realize this must be a difficult time for you. I know it is for me. When I heard of your recent divorce from Kris Humphries, I wondered if I was naïve to still believe in love. But I do believe in love, Kim. Which is why I think you should look at this recent romantic setback as an opportunity. What I’m about to suggest might seem crazy. But love is crazy, Kim. Love wears pants made out of bubble-wrap and a bath mat cape. Love hides under your bed and eats stale snack cakes. When you sleep, love kisses your eyelashes and draws hearts on your forehead with lipstick.
Love is crazy and I’m crazy about you, Kim. Right now, if you could see me, I’m on one knee. But still typing. I’m on my knees, in front of my keyboard, typing words I never thought I’d type. Oh jeez, I have sweaty fingertips! Kim Kardashian, will you marry me?
I know. This is sudden. You don’t know me. Your marriage to the love of your life just ended. I’m sure that is a shock. I know I was shocked. The wedding was just beautiful. I tore out the best pictures from the spread in People magazine and used my own saliva and bellybutton grease to secure them to my bedroom ceiling. Did you know I cried when I saw the wedding on E!? I cried and cried and cried, for three days. I will remember, for the rest of my life, where I was when I heard that your gay husband broke your heart. I will never forget that day. It’s like my generations JFK assassination. Where was I when I heard Kim Kardashian was a single lady once again? I actually don’t remember. I just remember waking up on my kitchen floor and feeling like I had lost my innocence. I know that there are many people reading this right now who know what I am talking about.
But I have never been one to let a cynical business agreement masquerading as a media fairy tale gone horribly right for everyone but the suckers who chose to believe in love get me down. And it shouldn’t get you down either. Here’s a little bit about me: I’m a blogger. I’m in my post-20s. My favorite food is “flavor packet.” I have low self-esteem, which most women in New York find unattractive because they hate the competition, but I think you’ll really learn to love the fact that my favorite sexual position is “masturbating in the garage with the lights off.”
Marry me, Kim. I will love you forever, or for 72 days, whichever comes first. I think your family would really like me, once they understood what it is I can offer you, besides perfectly toasted Eggos and also, someone to throw mugs of hot coffee at. The reason you should really consider my marriage proposal is because it will be a better story. A bigger, better story. It’s like what the Nazi propagandist Joseph Goebbels said, “If you tell a lie big enough, and keep repeating it, people will come to believe it.” That was your problem with your soon-to-be ex-husband, basketball quarterback Undercooked Taylor Lautner. The lie wasn’t big enough!
I just think we’d be so great for one another. We would make a great pitch to basic cable! You’re a princess and I’m a pauper. We’d be like “My Fair Lady,” which is a remake of “Pretty Woman,” which was based on the play “A Doll’s House”! The story goes like this: a sloppy, dorky blogger proposes to you over the internet, you are moved by his typos and poor grammar, and you swoop in and remake him! You teach him how to live your life of tacky luxury and how to laugh about all the idiots who tuned-in to the last marriage, which was the easiest $18 million dollars anyone has ever made. Think of the pre-wedding specials we could tape where you give me a makeover, take me shopping, and give me lessons in vapid monosyllabic observations of my new pampered world. I want you to know, in advance, I will sign whatever contract your lawyers write up, because even a fraction of millions of dollars is probably more than I make in a year. For instance, I am happy to get an Axe Body Spray face tattoo. I will even take your name. John Kardashian or just Mr. Kim Kardashian.
As we stand before God, family, friends and millions of lonelyhearts projecting their superficial dreams on our charade, I will stare into your eyes, your dark eyes, and happily say “I do.” And when we get divorced, months later, I want you to know that I will continue loving you, a point I will make over and over again, during the press conferences.
Marry me, Kim. I have a shit ton of credit card debt I have to pay off.
Love Always & Always,