Dear Bank of America,
You have been fucking me senseless since I was 13 years old. You fucked me when I was a minor, a college student, and a fresh-faced graduate who had finally managed to scrape together enough cash to get a place in the city. I've been living overseas for about four years now and you must have somehow sensed that I still pine for your sweet caress because you continue to fuck me from over 7,000 miles away.
One thing I love about you is how you never fail to notice the little things - like when my account falls below $25 and you remind me by charging an additional fee, resulting in a negative account balance. That's the kind of motivation I just can't find in any other lover. And just when I think your (our?) appetite has been satiated, you fuck me again with a fee going into the negative and then AGAIN for not paying that fee within 7 days. Through your wisdom I have been schooled in the virtues of patience and humility (and boning).
You know you've found the right one when it feels like no matter what happens, you'll never have enough love to give. I love you, Bank of America, and I hope that one day I will be able to fuck you as hard as you've fucked me.
Yours faithfully,
Dave
P.S.
