It's not you, Botcon, it's me. OR: It's just that while I love Peter Cullen, I'm not IN love with Peter Cullen.

I'm sorry Botcon, but we need to talk. After seeing the hundreds of guys in line waiting to be with you yesterday, I realized that I needed my space (preferably on the other side of the country from where you're being held). You've always been like a brother to me-a brother that invites me to his house hundreds of miles away and then charges me rent and makes me eat out every night and buy him strippers for four days. We used to have so much fun together but lately I feel like we're not compatible anymore. You like me to give you thousands of dollars and I like to eat food and not live with my mom. So Botcon, I'm sorry but the reason I'm not there right now is that I just remembered I'm married and I have a kid. Plus honestly I've been going to other conventions over the last few years that you didn't know about. I would still like to be friends, mostly because if I ever get divorced you're an easy way to score on slutty girls who like toy robots. I really wish you the best, and by the best I mean I hope your roof caves in and destroys everything in the dealer room so that my collection of not broken Dinobots will be that much more awesome.