Sep 112006
Authors: Geoff Johnson

Wyoming, let me be frank.

It’s never easy to do this, and there’s never really a good time for it, but we’re gonna have to let you go. I know. I’m sorry. Yes, I know that you and South Dakota have been having some problems at home – fighting and such – and this is the last thing you need right now.

But the fact is, we just can’t justify paying you to come here anymore. Oh and by the way, my dad has a state motto suggestion for you: “Wyoming: where men are men and sheep are scared.”

Rhode Island, you have simply never been big enough to satisfy me. You’re just tucked into Massachusetts’ little armpit, there, aren’t you? Is that where you like to be? In armpits?

Connecticut is kind of wedged in there, too. Any funny business going on in there? It’s all hot and sweaty in an armpit. Did desire ever get the best of you? Those New England winters get awful nasty – and lonely, especially in an armpit, and particularly in Massachusetts’ armpit. Ever succumb to temptation? Ever? Does Massachusetts shave?

Montana: Why, why, why do you close your eyes when we make love? You’re thinking about North Dakota, aren’t you? Well maybe North Dakota can make dinner for two, only to put half of it away after waiting for two hours while polishing off the entire bottle of Merlot and dejectedly blowing out the candles and going to bed.

If I had a nickel. Maybe North Dakota can cry himself to sleep every night. I’m going to my sister’s.

Vermont: If you were me and I were you, would you keep me around, knowing that my only distinction is that I “make New Hampshire uneasy?” Think about it for a while and really be honest with yourself. Even if I contended, “but Trey Anastasio, formerly of Phish, regularly attends our state university’s basketball games,” you wouldn’t keep me around. Think about what I think is the key word of that statement: “formerly.”

West Virginia, how dare you kiss me with your eyes open. Clearly, all that romantic pillow talk and the big show of pushing my chair in for me and opening and closing the car door was all a ruse.

I thought your lines seemed forced. You practiced them in front of the mirror, didn’t you? I bet you flexed while you did, and you were probably eating those creatine fruit snacks the whole time. You would. Yeah, I bet your muscles recovered really quickly. You have woken up next to me for the last time.

Tennessee, I gave myself to you, and what did you do? I’ll tell you what you did: You threw me back in my own (expletive) face. I think I would die of a f%&#ing heart attack if you, just once, called when you said you would. Lately, you only call me after the bar, when you’re drunk – and we just fight.

Would one “you’re beautiful” or one “I think about you when you’re not around” kill you?! I deserve better, Volunteer State. There are states out there who would treat me better. I’ve been talking to Georgia…

Utah, I hate doing this. First of all, thanks for all those copies of the Book of Mormon. You’re really nice. The thing is, you’re almost too nice. And I’m at a point in my life where I feel really selfish. I don’t want to hurt you by doing something stupid. I need to not be dating anyone right now. It’s anything but you. It’s me – and the timing. I hope we can still talk and stuff, because you’re really cool. Come here. Let’s hug it out.

Geoffrey Johnson is a senior English major. His column appears occasionally in the Collegian. Replies and feedback can be sent to

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