Dear Brett Favre,

I’ve been in love with you since I was 12 and that love has never wavered. I have forsaken other crushes throughout the years, said “Goodbye” to Donnie Wahlberg, ditched Luke Perry, cast aside Eddie Vedder and shunned poor George Clooney. After all this Angelina business I even have lost a little something for Brad Pitt. Though all that Brett, there you were. Your smiling face, crinkled eyes, tight ass and adorable southern voice so were always so reliable. So there. Every.single.Sunday.

I’ve rooted for you good times and bad. Cried when I though you were injured, when you won us the Superbowl and when your father passed away. Felt the sick, knotted feeling in my stomach when you retired. I wanted to hold you and wipe away those crocodile tears, clutch my big hunk of broad shouldered football man-boy and make it all better. Hell, my husband may even have let me do it. That’s just how much you mean to us Packer fans.

To tell you the truth Brett, I had really hoped it wouldn’t come to this. In the last several months I’ve made peace with the idea that I wouldn’t watch #4 come running out of the tunnel ever again. I’ve mourned and begun to accept. Then I saw the shit on ESPN over the last week and have had things like this crammed down my throat.

For crying out loud, do you want to kill us all? Start riots? Get booed when you return to Lambeau? Pull a Michael fucking Jordan? Asking the Packers for a release? Have you lost your damn mind?

I thought we meant more to you Brett. I really did. Please stop ripping our hearts out.

Love,

Project Openletter

P.s. I still want you back. Just be a good boy and sit the bench a week or two. Someone will break Aaron Rogers in half toot sweet. He’s proven that he tends to be a bit fragile.