Dear Tom,
I’m sorry, but I have to get this off my chest. I think we should break up. Look, it’s not you! It’s just this new situation – being captured by aliens and kept in this enclosure while they try to get us to reproduce – is a bit too much for me to handle.
Someone told me once that 90% of love is timing, and, right now, that sure feels right. If we had gone on a few more dates before they tore the roof off that Waffle House and sucked us both up with some sort of particulate beam, I think we might have been able to keep our fledgling relationship. But sharing the same living space has been a little too much, too quickly for me.
Also, the physical part of a relationship is important for me, and it just hasn’t been working for me. It’s been awkward enough after the Zorglians confiscated our clothes. I mean, every time we even cuddle, the guards around the enclosure enthusiastically signal each other and gather near the glass with their recording devices. I’m almost starting to feel bad for the little guys – they look so bummed when I tell them once again that no, two men can’t reproduce, no matter the aphrodisiacs or mood lighting.
I’m also afraid our goals and aspirations are too different. You keep arguing that we need to travel to the Zorglian home planet to persuade them that humans are sentient creatures and deserve to join the Interplanetary League, while I want to focus on escape plans for when the ship refuels on Flurg. We are just headed in different directions: Earth in my case, and an unimaginable world of adorable but incredibly invasive extraterrestrial beings for you.
Even if we aren’t dating, I’m still open to seeing you if that’s okay. The whole enclosure is only about 30×50 feet anyway. I hope you see this is for the best.
Goodbye,
George
