The Emails of Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir


November 2, 2016

Dear Beaver,

Do you mind me calling you that? I’ve been meaning to ask you for decades, but it keeps slipping my mind. I sat in Starbucks today sipping my cappuccino and typing away on my laptop. A millennial asked me if I were writing a screen play and then laughed at me. I don’t get the joke. I was writing a screen play though.




November 5, 2016

Dear Little One,

Now that you bring it up, I really don’t like being called a beaver. A beaver has buck teeth and a big tail. Are you trying to imply something? Are you working on an existentialist screen play? I have to make a confession; I don’t know what existentialist means.




November 8, 2016

Fine then, stop calling me Little One.


P.S I don’t know what existentialist means either.


November 10, 2016

Don’t get bent out of shape. I was talking about your stature, not your penis.



November 13, 2016

Smoking…scowling…smoking…sex…smoking…I’m being very French today.




November 14, 2016

I’m having a rendezvous with one of my lovers today and with a different lover on Tuesday and with someone, and I’ve quite forgotten who, on Thursday. Hopefully I’ll remember by Thursday but if not, do you want to meet for coffee?

Love and kisses,



November 15, 2016

Dear Simone,

I got into a religious discussion with a priest today and I told him ‘existence precedes essence.’ I thought it was quite good; I should write that down. He told me I was going to hell and I quipped ‘Hell is other people.’ I’m so clever sometimes. Did you remember who your Thursday lover is? Just let me know what time; I don’t want it to conflict with my Thursday romantic encounter. I don’t have one yet, but I’m sure I will by Thursday.



November 16, 2016

I remembered now that my romantic tryst was supposed to be with you on Thursday. That works out great, because then we can get coffee after.



November 18, 2016

I got into an argument with that absurdist writer Albert Camus. He said that existentialism is a load of crap; shit happens, so just deal with it. I told him the only thing absurd about him was his writing. He pointed out that he won The Nobel Peace Prize for Literature.

I hate bourgeois Frenchmen.



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