The Breakup

Dear Jess,

Do you love me?
Do you want to see me sometime soon?
Do you still consider me your girlfriend?

To you they were my issues and my neediness, what you never had time for and as you say, always pissed you off. To me they were questions you didn't have the balls to answer. I could feel you slipping away a long time ago, and I even knew there was someone else. I'm not an idiot.

My friends have been listening to my trauma since "the beginning of the end", and I finally know what they meant in telling me over and over that when the time came, I would know what to do. So when I sarcastically asked you if you'd gotten me anything for Valentine's day and your answer was, in all seriousness, "What the hell for?", I knew I'd had enough.

I suggested we be friends.You said we might as well be penpals now since WE have been drifting apart for a long time. Don't you dare pin that on me. I was always willing to try, and should never have to convince someone they love me. I'm better than that.

And then the insults began. You never needed me. You put up with so much of my shit. I was lousy in bed. I was so unattractive that jerking off gave you more pleasure. I'm so fat I cut off the blood circulation in your legs while you slept. I'll lose weight and then blow up again when I get a new boyfriend. After all, that's my "way."

I'm really sure you never needed me, especially when I was paying the rent. Funny, I never saw you over exert yourself to get a job. Yeah I fell apart and cried a lot, I'll admit that. Mostly after you started yelling your head off for no good reason.

Lousy in bed, tsk tsk. Not once did you lack for climax, while I cap off my orgasms, after five years of sleeping with you, at a baker's dozen. And that's being generous. I always found you sexy, especially those many times you were sitting at your computer, shirt off, plumber's butt, knotty hair greasy and stinking from not showering in three days, all four spare tires spilling out over your waistline while you sucked on your bong.
What a turn on.

I'm so fat I cut off the circulation in your legs? News flash bastard, a slice of bread resting on your shin could cut off circulation. That's what you get for having calves thinner than my wrists. I'd look into implants.

As for blowing up again when I get a new man, I don't think so, darling. See, he won't be you.

The prize of it all though, the crowning glory and icing on the cake was when you hinted you'd be "willing" to fuck me when I lost weight. Here's a movie quote pretty much summarizing my feelings on that: I don't fuck losers.

If I was younger, if this had happened at any other time, what you said would have just about killed me. But the more crap that came out of your mouth, the better I felt. Over and over in my head I kept hearing, this is why you're breaking up with him, this is why you don't need him, this is why you're better off.

I will miss some things, I won't lie. When you weren't being a dick you were great to pal around with. And I'll really miss your family. It was wonderful to have grandparents again, and teenage girl cousins to talk clothes and nailpolish.

But this is the way it is, and this is the way it has to be. Unfortunately we have some business agreements together and you'll have to be in my life a little longer, but I highly doubt that will go beyond some brief chats. And when all is said and done, when accounts have been settled and laid to rest, I will disappear from your life forever.

Part of me wants to think that you'll miss me, you'll never find a girl as good as me, you'll realize what you had and lost. Maybe you will, maybe you won't. I'm not going to dwell on that anymore. There are more important things for me to think about now, and you're just not on that list.

Goodbye, Jess. And after everything you said to me yesterday, good fucking riddance.

PS: For all three years we lived together, you were such an asshole when you smoked up I got into the habit of flushing your weed down the toilet a bit at a time. When we lived in Europe and you were trying to "grow your own," the plants didn't die from bad lighting, they died because I was watering them with sink cleaner. The seeds you've been saving went down the sewer, and remember that pipe you thought was lost? I threw it off the balcony. Happy Valentine's Day.