Dear Dr. Date, I love you

Dr. Date

Dear Dr. Date,
Do you ever feel like you know someone even though you’ve only ever corresponded through letters published in your university’s newspaper?
That’s how I feel about you, Doccy Boo. 
The first letters I sent you at the beginning of the summer were about real relationship problems. I needed a helping hand, and you were there with kind words of advice, but now all I want is you. You helped me in the start, but now I want something more. I want a real relationship with you. You get me. You understand me. You’ve helped me through some tough times. 
I know that someone who has the confidence to not only give advice to people they don’t know about their love lives, but on top of that, expects to be paid for that advice must be one hot customer, so even though we haven’t met in person yet, I’m not worried about looks at all. Seriously, I’m not all that picky.
And yes, I did make up so many different scenarios after your first response to attract your attention. Maybe you noticed. Then again, maybe not. But the advice you doled out each time was perfect, even if I didn’t ever use it. 
I know that you get such a flood of requests for assistance that I needed to make mine splashy, diverse and wrought with passion.  I hope I achieved that. In fact, I’m pretty sure I did. 
But, it’s just because I love you, Doctor. I really, truly do. I fell for you. I love you, and I wanted to make sure that love was real before I revealed myself to you. 
Dear Melissa,
What? No, I’m sorry. This is just not how you go about confessing your love to someone. First of all, you should’ve come down to the Daily’s offices and used the love in your eyes to convince the front desk person to point me out to you. You would be carrying roughly $125 in choice chocolates. Then, you would have cried for about twenty minutes
while letting “I love you’s” bubble out of your mouth hole.
Basically, no. Thanks anyway. Bye. Sorry about the confusion. But there are plenty of other fish in the sea, ya know? Sorry if I led you along or gave you any ideas. That truly wasn’t ever my intention. 
Anyway, best of luck, but please stop writing. I feel a little burnt knowing that I was giving out advice to someone who didn’t really need it. 
P.S. You didn’t even say where and when you wanted to meet. That’s a little weird.
P.S.S. You’ve ruined the sanctity of this dating advice column. It doesn’t feel right anymore. 
P.S.S.S. I quit; love doesn’t exist.
—Dr. Date