It's no use Nicole...

Every year it seems the same. Your exhortations and pleas most unbecoming. When did it start, I wonder? Was it after you left Tom, or before? I don't suppose it matters. But very year I reject you - every year you force me to reject you - and yet still you come back. Have I not made myself clear? It was never meant to be, this... whatever it is you imagine exists between us.

And it's always around Christmas it seems. Coincidence, or a display of mere opportunism on your part? Though it must surely speak ill of me I cannot help but believe that latter. Please leave me be. Move on, Nicole, move on. Already it seems that I can scarce turn on my television without witnessing your attempts to sell me perfume. It was amusing once, flattering too, I'll confess, but no longer. Your attentions are overly familar now and unwanted. I beg of you to turn them elsewhere.

Please...?