The Big Breakup

Sadly, I have to end our engagement. You have been unfaithful. You might not have cheated on me, physically; but, you’ve cheated on me, metaphorically. That’s far worse… or far better… depending upon how you look at it. I’m finding it hard to deal with the shame and so is my girlfriend… she’s THIS close to denying the two of you are connected in any way. Do you remember the waiter that you MARRIED with your EYES? You locked eyes and I could see you sleeping with him and him proposing and you accepted and got married through just a glance. If I hadn’t pushed a dessert cart between the two of you, your eyes would have four children by now.

I ended up, for piece of mind, hiring a private detective. He took pictures of you and your lover. When I told him that I couldn’t afford to pay him, he took pictures of me and my lover. It seems I only made that situation worse. But, the photos are professional and he has a remarkable sense of composition. If I could afford to buy them, I would; but, he threatened to publish them next week in a national paper, so I’ll just wait ’til then and cut them out.

Also, I think you’ve been taking me for granted. I don’t just mean this, financially. You thought I’d always be there to back you up and and let you use my ear as a potholder. You thought that the dinner waiting for you after work just made itself? NO! The only dish that made itself was that macaroni and cheese I invented that reproduced asexually. You stored recycling in me when the usual bins were full and you never said “thank you”, once. I’m not even going to bring up the week you used me as a load-bearing wall…

And, your parents didn’t help this relationship. I understood when your mother forgot my name, but, when she substituted a dog bowl for my plate, I realized she’d also forgot what species I was. Your father explicitly stated that I didn’t earn enough to maintain your lifestyle. I asked him what that entailed and he responded that he couldn’t live in a world where his daughter didn’t own a professional basketball team. I started working longer hours after that; but, after doing the math, I determined if I worked thirty-one hours a day for seven hundred years, I’d only be able to afford the Washington Wizards.

So, I’ll be staying with my brother until we can arrange our finances. He owns his own home; and, he has a sleeper sofa and a goat… and I’m getting close to figuring out which is which. Please return the ring… if not to me, then to whoever it was I stole it from.