From: Ben Karlin
To: Elizabeth Wurtzel

Well, this is it, I guess. What started as a series of un-furtive, semi-intellectual, vaguely thematic exchanges between relative strangers has totally....well, stayed that way. Yet it has been anything but a zero sum game. No, I have learned that I lack two of the three essential qualities necessary to date Elizabeth Wurtzel and Elizabeth Wurtzel, in short order will, if there is a Christ in Heaven, receive a $60,000 purse.

I can’t answer your last questions, because if I do, it will mean I will be telling you things I haven’t even told my wife. And I read somewhere, perhaps in a magazine, or in a manual of some sort, that this is wrong.

All I will say is this: For the better part of my existence I was convinced I would not get married. Even when I got engaged and planned an entire wedding, it still didn’t feel real. I observed it from outside my body. Outside my element even.

I basically snorkeled through the entire process, feeling nothing, until the moment I walked up the stairs with my father to the place where the ceremony was happening. It was just he and I. And then I just started crying. Like, hard. Not from joy, nor sadness. Momentousness hit me with one giant punch – the kind that knocks the wind out of you and makes you think you will never get it back. It was a bright day in May, so I was able to hide behind sunglasses. But I truly worried I would not be able to stop crying. Not before the ceremony, nor ever. That was the best day of my life.

Ben

From: Ben Karlin
To: Elizabeth Wurtzel

Posh Spice plus Birkin: Is it better to be known, or loved? Or does having a really expensive purse trump both those things? The words in your last e-mail all make sense. And they all seem true and heartfelt. But to me, everything boils down to simple want. Every word human beings speak is laden with desire. The engine of socialization coats our language and teaches us moderation and technique, but we are animals striving to survive and thrive.

I started out these exchanges with you pleading for you to like me. That was laid out in the form of a joke, but it was fundamentally true. I didn't plead for you to "know" me. Because ultimately, I don't think that's what most people want. It's why we dress up to go out. It's why we hope and pray that a person has fallen for us before they find out some of the dark, unpleasant shit. Could you imagine leading with, "Hello my name is Ben. I snore, have psoriasis and can be simultaneously imperious and childish"?

I haven't figured out anything about life or love. I really haven't. But my overwhelming suspicion is that is a lot simpler than 99% of all people make it. Unfortunately, simple does not mean easy. And honesty isn't always the best policy. Would that it were.

So the natural question is, what do you want? Besides that bag, of course.

From: Ben Karlin
To: Elizabeth Wurtzel

Read the following in a cranky old man voice:

What the hell kind of world are we living in?

I’m sorry, but it’s a fucking bag. There is little in this world that makes less sense to me than smart people going nuts over fancy pants clothing and/or accessories. I understand people trampling each other ever a $29 dvd player. I even understand why people would believe that a secret US-Israeli cabal conspired to bring down the twin towers. Seriously, that is not exaggeration. I have an easier time believing that shit than why people care about a bag. Even if it is nice. Even if it is made of the finest materials man has ever brought together in bag form. Okay, you can call me a cretin now.

Here’s a whiplash turn:

So you are still in touch with all your exes? Interesting. Who initiates that? It can’t be mutual. And how has or does the current guy feel about the past? That’s where you get into trouble.

I tried and succeeded for some time in keeping in touch with many of my former girlfriends. Something about wanting to prove that it really was us and not just me, or just her. "Look, we can still be friends. That’s real! Not just something we said to soften a blow." But one by one they fell away. People moved or got married or finally just gave up because after all, we were really only hanging out because we used to go out – not necessarily because we were super into the same things. (Otherwise, we might still be together, no?)

I have one friend who is a former girlfriend. She was my Bar Mitzvah date and we broke up in the 7th grade. We made out in a closet once. We had braces and it wasn’t particularly fun.

But back to you., since you're the single one. Do guys break up with you and then regret it? Do you dump them, then leave a door open? It’s never mutual. You know that, right?