11/11/2011 11:27 am ET Updated Jan 09, 2012

A Regular Guy's Open Letter to the Beleaguered Kim Kardashian

Dear Kim,

How are you? I am fine.

You likely don't know much about such an old school, pedestrian, and arguably, juvenile way of opening a letter. As a kid, I used to do it almost all the time. So easy and innocent.

That's because by design and through cunning preparation, there's very little that's old school about you.

Anyway...despite the differences in our age, sensibilities, bank balances and backgrounds, as a man not interested in marrying you, I have so much unsolicited advice and frank warnings that I don't know where to begin.

There's so much to ridicule, rather dissect, about your topsy-turvy but charmed celebrity life that I feel like a starving man in front of a lavish buffet in Las Vegas, the haven of debauchery and shamelessness that has hosted many of your public appearances and accommodated your indulgences.

With this open letter, I speak for people who can't stand to hear more about your allegedly soon-to-end marriage (at least as of this writing) but who also can't avoid looking and listening like we do when we see a car accident or train wreck.

As you ponder ending your over-hyped, shorter-than-a-lightning bolt marriage to Kris Humphries, I was relieved that you told an Australian TV show that the inferno you're embroiled in is "kind of what you get for living your life so publicly. I get that."

Maybe you're not totally delusional about the repercussions of being a so-called fame whore who some time ago made a conscious decision to monetize virtually every aspect of your life. Only in America and Hollywood can someone already from a moneyed background and with no discernible talent rise to atop the celebrity heap.

I applaud you with a one-hand clap.

"No Reconciliation...Divorce On." "Kim Kardashian, Conflicted Over Divorce, Flies To Minnesota." "Kim's 72-Day Marriage: Marriage Mistake or Fake?" "Kim Kardashian Told Family Members She Was 'Embarrassed' About Divorce...Via E-mail." Kim Kardashian Must Pay Kris Humphries To Keep Engagement Ring." "Kim Kardashian Gone Into Hiding."

These and other headlines are salacious and contradictory. But you admitted that the intense scrutiny -- including open, unsolicited letters from strangers -- "also just teaches me I kind of want to step back a little bit."

You think?

What an ingenious observation and decision...akin to refraining from sex at least the first day after learning you contracted an STD.

I agree that you "can't really live my life for what people are going to say and not say." While you "have to follow my heart" and tell your (self-described) "blindsided" husband that his ridiculously short stint as Mr. Kardashian is over, here's what regular men of the world want you to know:

After what looks like soon will be your second divorce, you will continue to attract guys who are fame whores like you do. Guys who equally covet attention and money. Like you. Guys who see you as a product, a commodity to be capitalized on, a socio-economic ladder to be climbed. Quickly, at that. Guys who don't really want to be your husband - unlike your scripted plan to be a wife. Guys who are parasites to your host. Just like you've benefitted from past pro athlete, singer and in-the-public-eye boyfriends.

The line of guys who want to connect with you on an authentic level - your riches and fame be damned - and cultivate an open, honest, genuine relationship built on mutual respect, common interests and a
desire to work on differences is a short one.

The line of broke hangers-on, deluded D-list celebrities, and horny opportunists who are work-averse but want a shot at the Kim K. Crown always will be long.

I can't help but think that as you get older and want to start a family, the goal is to not start a family with the caliber of guy matches your caliber of girl.

But what do I know? I'm a regular guy.

Kim, you're an attractive woman who is fine, as old schoolers like me would say. Actually, to mix metaphors, you're as fine as frog hair. You make guys' armpits moist. And your net worth continues to be greater than every man who wants to sleep with, I mean meet, you.

But here's the catch. Relentlessly coveting media attention and posturing for the next sponsorship deal isolates you in a dating and marriage silo. There's an inverse relationship between achieving your narcissistic goal of paparazzi nirvana and trending on the Internet more than the phrase "new job openings" on the one hand, while on the other hand, it's unlikely that you connect with a decent, reasonable and marriage-worth guy who wants to date and get to know you as marriage material while not exclusively focusing on your money, fame and that shapely booty.

Kim, you've been on the proverbial come up for years. No college degree. No singing ability. Marginal acting skills. No dancing talent (just ask Prince). No special talents that we can discern or that you've shared (besides the sex tape with Ray J).

You're famous for being famous, which is the ultimate manifestation of shameless self-promotion and Americans' outsized appetite for all things Hollywood and generally unattainable to the masses.

But the public and media are the penultimate enablers, watching your family's 42 different "reality" shows, buying your clothes, and visiting web sites and buying magazines that trumpet your every move.

But beware the backlash, Kim. America is skilled at building them up then knocking them down. Michael Jordan was synonymous with winning but labeled an ass for gambling and divorcing his wife.

At the risk of committing sacrilege, remember they crucified Jesus, so your extensive wardrobe means nothing to the haters.

Keep searching for an equally yoked partner since you want to be married and have kids. Good luck with that.

Try moving to say, Ankeny, Iowa, to land a real man. The NBA is mired in a lockout. Pro football players are focused on making the playoffs. Hockey players are toothless and probably not your type and the baseball season just ended.

Put the TV shows on hiatus. They don't play too well on a farm. Or, apparently, in Minnesota.