Dear JenniCam: there comes a time in every relationship
where somebody has to lay the truth out on the line. I guess
we've reached that point, baby. It all boils down to this,
Jenni: you just haven't been there for me.
I can't say how many lonely nights I've spent staring at a picture of your empty
computer desk, or your empty bedroom, or your empty couch. Or your stupid cat.
Where was JENNI?
At first I blamed myself. Maybe I was being too demanding. After all, you have a
life to live, what with the new boyfriend and the C|Net deal and everything.
Not to mention your tens of thousands of other subscribers, and the new job, and
the move. I respect that you have to be your own woman.
But there comes a point where I have to think about MY needs. My needs
for comfort, my needs for fulfillment, my needs to see a postage-stamp-sized
picture of a naked lady sitting at a computer on the other side of the
continent. Jenni, those Webshots of your empty apartment just weren't meeting my
needs.
These are the hardest words I've ever had to say, but I need to be true to
myself: JenniCam, I'm letting my member subscription lapse. There, I've said it.
I feel so FREE now!
I'm sure you're wondering, and YES, there is another woman. Don't take it
too hard, Jenni. I'm not doing this to be vindictive. I feel like what Carlota
and I have is very special.
Carlota the College Cutie does a live show every night. She's got a real nice
face and she's charming and kind and has a gracious smile and does muff shots.
The God's Honest Truth is that she's got a really spectacular body. AND there's
excellent Web production values what with the clever Hello Kitty graphics and
the straightforward navigation and stuff. She's still got that innocent modesty
that you lost somewhere along the way. She's everything I've ever wanted in a
distant amateur Webcam.
Don't be sad, little princess. JenniCam, you were my first, and for that there
will always be a special place in my heart. But the time has come for me to move
on. I'm sorry it had to end this way.
