It was great to see you the other night. It was nice of you to say you were happy to see that I was still with the "same cute boyfriend." What wasn't so nice, and what made the evening very awkward, was how you grabbed my left hand and said, "But this doesn't make me very happy," with an exaggerated frown. "I hope you get something sparkly for Christmas!" I understand you thought you were wishing me well and were just vocalizing my secret desires—golly, who wouldn't want a big diamond ring? What I could've said was this: The relationship is almost over. We're tearing apart each day. The last thing I want is to marry this man, and I'm still not 100 percent sure I'll ever marry anybody. Fuck you for bringing my mood down when I was just trying to eat, drink, and be merry. You've tried to act like a mother figure to me before—giving unsolicited and insane advice about relationships, careers, and fashion—but this was the worst incident ever. Live and let live, you meddling asshole.

—Anonymous