Every single day, I get a valentine from GrubHub. Every day, without me ever replying or even opening a metaphorical window with a simple click, GrubHub send me a love letter via electronic mail.  So many unread and unanswered letters sit in my mailbox, gathering dust.

I don’t read them, I never have.

This unwavering dedication of getting my attention is something I have never experienced until advertising got a hold of me through electronic means. My mailbox at home has never gotten this much attention.  Just a glance is all GrubHub wants. Just a reminder like hey, I’m here and waiting for you.

But this is not the way to my heart.  It is true, that food is the way to the heart.  But even with the promise of someone cooking for me, delivering it right into my hands, having no cleanup, the ability to get virtually anything under the sun, I repeatedly shut it down.

I am hoping the GrubHub will take the subtle hint, but there is worried part of me that thinks this will go on for a long time.  Can you get a restraining order against a website?  How do you break up with a machine?  How do you follow a harassment suit against automated messages?

Although I am a terrible client, GrubHub does not care.  I know that tomorrow, and the next day, and forever on, GrubHub will never forget me.

I will never give my heart to you, Grub Hub. I have given my heart to a refrigerator full of fresh produce, marinating meat, stocked high with leftovers, and crammed full of bubblers.