Dear No-Hitter …


Dear No-Hitter –
I have to say that I am a bit confused. I was flirting with you all night long. I thought we had something.
First inning, second inning, third inning, fourth, fifth, sixth. The tension was building. Something was happening between us. I felt it. And unless I misremember, I know you had to feel it, too. We weren’t just flirting anymore. We were about to do it.
At least I thought so.
I mean, look – I knew it wasn’t going to be perfect. I’m not naïve. My bumbling wing man Jerry Hairston, Jr. assured that, am I right? But even after he butted in, I still thought we could have some fun, no-hitter. It was still there for us. I still wanted you. Probably even more than before.
I wanted you so bad. Pardon my French, but I wanted to f—k you, no-hitter.
But then you go all of a sudden and let Nick Markakis get to first base with you??? Like the whole night, all of our flirting, meant nothing?!?
What was that about?
I feel used, no-hitter. I do. I know it might sound stupid. But I felt like you used me. I feel like you used me to get yourself some attention because I am a New York Yankee. And then you just went and left with some Baltimore Oriole.
You’re a whore, no-hitter. There. I said it. YOU ARE A WHORE.
I’m never flirting with you again.
I Can't Love Anymore,
Andy Pettitte


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