Dearest Margaret, my friend of all friends,
We have known each other for over three long years now. I fondly recall meeting you in our pro-seminar freshman year and the delicate shared moments that led us down the path towards friendship. I consider you one of my closest comrades, most trusted confidants, and best of boon companions. Alas today I must unfortunately be the bearer of bad news. While I cherish our friendship, I simply do not cherish it enough to sit through three hours of South Asian dance.
Having interacted with you frequently over the last few months, I know that you derive great meaning from your participation in this activity. You practice your dance almost nonstop and you take great pride in perfecting it. I understand how much this means to you, however the simple fact is that you don’t mean enough to me to merit the long hours I would spend in Gaston Hall to watch your measly five minutes of dance.
I still remember the night you stayed up all night with me crying after my grandfather passed away. It was your empathy and companionship that got me through what was likely the hardest week of my life. You were there for me when I needed it most. However, now that I have the opportunity to do the same for you, I regret to inform you that I will not be taking it. I like you Margaret, trust me I do. One could even say I love you, in the way that friends do. But I don’t love you nearly enough to endure three hours of amateur South Asian dance.
Please know that I admire your dedication in learning this new activity. Each Monday night, I watched as you pulled yourself from your mountains of school work to spend several hours practicing dances you did not know and had no personal connection to. While you spent the last two months exposing yourself to new cultures, I regret to inform you that I will not be spending even a fraction of my time doing the same. The fact is that I like you, truly I do, but not enough to give away my Friday night.
The money raised from this endeavor of yours will go towards a great cause. You have played a small part in bringing great change into this world. I, however, cannot say the same. My $20 will remain in my pocket, destined to be spent on bottled water and cheap cologne. I will not see your dance, which you will inevitably forget after the three shots of tequila you take before the show, or any of the ones like it. You mean a great deal to me Margaret, but sadly it’s just not enough to warrant sitting in Gaston Hall for not one, not two, but three hours watching you attempt dances you have no right to be doing.
So as you gaze into the crowd on Friday and Saturday night, hoping to glimpse my face, let me save you the trouble. I won’t be there. Instead I’ll be in bed or at a bar or absolutely anywhere that isn’t Gaston Hall. I’m sorry, from the bottom of my heart I really am. But you just don’t mean enough to me to watch three hours of South Asian dance.
The Sisters Fitzroy