Dear 21 Choices,

Hopefully this won’t come as a total shock to you because I
think I’ve been doing a pretty good job of dropping hints. The late night disappearances,
the used spoons and cups in the trash that aren’t from you, the traces of red velvety
satisfaction on my lips. If you can’t guess by now, then it really goes to show
that you’ve never understood me at all. 21 Choices, the truth is”¦I’ve found
someone else.

Yogurtland is”¦ one of the best things that has ever happened
to me. We’re just a much better fit. Yogurtland gets me, on a real level, not
to mention knows how to make me happy in ways I didn’t even think were possible.
If it’s Friday and I get a craving for some delicious froyo at around midnight,
Yogurtland is totally game. When are you EVER in the mood at midnight? Oh
that’s right, you close at 11pm daily. I need someone who can keep up with me,
and seriously have you ever been to college? Fun doesn’t even show its trashy sexy
face until 11 or later. So where are you?

Now let’s talk about honesty for a second. Everyone knows
that any good relationship is built on a solid foundation of similar taste in
music and knowing you both would be sorted into the same Hogwarts house. But
right after that comes trust. When I first heard about you, call me crazy, but
I thought 21 Choices meant I’d have 21
flavors to choose from
, and believe me, I was excited. So by the time
we were face to face, and I found out no, there are only actually 3 or 4
choices on any given day, and those choices are picked out for me, it turns out
your name should probably be No Choices.

Just when I was about to leave, you turned around and said
“hold on, I have 21 toppings.” You know what? EVERYONE has at least that many
toppings! If Yogurtland named itself based on how many toppings it offered, do
you know what it would be?? 56 CHOICES. But it doesn’t have to because
Yogurtland has great self-esteem and doesn’t need to go around telling everyone
how many toppings it has. In spite of your lies, I stayed, because you were all
I had, and I have a hard time saying no when you put your oreos right in front
of me. You’ve been misleading from the get-go and I think that’s where things
went south.

I guess if I’m gonna stay on my honesty high horse, I should
get a few things off my chest. Eating frozen yogurt should be a beautiful,
delicious experience that I want to enjoy again and again with a flavor I love
and really care about. So I don’t know who is telling you that taking perfectly
good toppings, and mashing them into passably tolerable yogurt until you’ve got
crunch bar cookie dough soup is appealing to anyone, but you are greatly
mistaken. Leave that action to Cold Stone; ice cream has the consistency and
emotional baggage to handle that kind of violent passion.

But yogurt is different. Yogurt is a delicate, classy breed.
It doesn’t need to be molded into something it’s not, it just needs to be
admired and enjoyed for what it is: delicious. And that’s how I feel when I go
to Yogurtland. I feel satisfied knowing that my experience is being measured
and paid for by the ounce at an excitingly reasonable price. When I walk out of
Yogurtland, I don’t feel cheated or lied to or wonder if there’s something
better out there. Instead I feel happy and loved. I guess I just never really
felt that with you.

I think I’ve expressed myself pretty clearly. I don’t want
us to see each other anymore. We can still be friends. I mean, I still have to
go in that direction to get to Starbucks, so there’s no reason we can’t you
know, give a nod or a friendly wave, but that’s it. Think of this as a chance
to find someone that really just feels right with you. I know I have.

See you around,


P.S. I never liked your taste in music.

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