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This week I was flooded with letters regarding that notorious walking disaster of amour, Captain XY, Esq. For those of you who haven't been keeping up with my column (for shame!), the Captain has become a 'regular contributor' to this feature. His adventures on the high seas of heartbreak have vexed me. Apparently they have annoyed you, too, as following missives demonstrate. They represent just a few of the sacks of mail pouring into the Norma Knows Department of The Harvard Crimson. (P.S. Ironically, this week I did not receive a letter from the Captain. This troubles...
...think this guy who lives across the hall from me is Captain XY, Esq.! What do I do? Afraid in Adams...
...think this guy who lives in my entry is Captain XY, Esq.! Should I ask him out for coffee? --Kind of Interested in Kirkland...
...latest object of this salty dog's amour was tragically dumped two years, ago, and wherever there's a roadkill on the Highway of Love, you can bet that the Captain XY, Esq.--"The Love Vulture"--is making those lazy circles in the sky! Capt. XY...
Dear Captain XY...