How was your New Year’s?
-To Whom It May Concern.
Dear To Whom It May Concern,
It’s so hard to say goodbye like Boyz II Men
My so-called man left two days before Christmas to visit his family and never returned. It gets better. He strung me along for nearly two weeks before deciding on the day of that he wasn’t coming back. And this happened before I had to clock in to my day job. And the kicker is he texted it to me like a coward. I felt like some shit that he rubbed is feet in on the way to the club.
He was supposed to pay the rent as well.
25 phone calls and too many text messages later, still no response. And just like that my life was turned upside down at the start of a new year. Perhaps, things were supposed to end up this way. Perhaps this separation will be the catalyst for my spiritual, economical, and emotional growth. But he still fucked up my fresh start.
This event was so insidious, I don’t know if I could ever forgive him. I get that you no longer want to be with me (although I can’t really see that but I can pretend to). But you have to give me the fucking respect and dignity I’m entitled to. You don’t get to escape your life when we are clearly building one together. I had a dream of a future filled with financial freedom.
There is a paradigm shift in the world where depressing shit is constantly becoming the norm. Like is this really happening? Trying to survive the shifting headlines and weather alone warranted me switching from wine to Vodka. And now, the billionaire is serving Big Macs on silver platters. It’s really a metaphor for what’s happening in this country. The rich are getting richer while they are serving us shit on a silver platter.
From the state of the union to the state of my misery, the holidays have a fucked up way of highlighting what you really don’t have. I feel like an advice columnist living a lie. I’m no longer in a successful relationship. I’m like a rich bitch that was conned out of all her money. This pretty mess, is all I have left, the relics of relationship’s past, on the bottom of the bathroom floor.
Sometimes love is not enough to keep a relationship or even a life afloat. My relationship was my lifeboat. And drifting on wood like that bitch from Titanic, falling asleep as my lover dies in front of me. Perhaps, I’m being a little dramatic. But was he trying to save me by moving to New Jersey? Or was he being selfish to seize on the first opportunity to get away from me?
This is certainly not good for the self esteem. But why was he treating me like the enemy when we’re supposed to be on the same side?
These are the times we’re in. We are living life precariously from one paycheck to the next. And with the backdrop of the longest government shut down in history, some can’t even do that. But I have to keep it moving. I have to keep paving a path to progress.
So what he left.
What am I going to do with my life today?
He doesn’t make me. He was only supposed to love me. I have another to make up for the both us. Elizabeth Taylor once said, ”Pour yourself a drink, put on some lipstick and pull yourself together.” With life there is hope. As long as I’m still living I’ll have a chance to make it. I’m turning this pain into gold to reignite the writer within.
Perhaps this relationship nearly overwhelmed my inner artist. Worrying about his needs, coping through shifting moods and bouts of depression consumed me. All that time and energy spent I could have a book out. I’m reclaiming my time darling. I guess there’s some relief. I don’t ever have to worry about him again.
On second thought, maybe it isn’t so hard to say goodbye. Good Riddance.
And say hello to me, still standing, slightly slimmer, and ready to enjoy my motherfucking life responsibly.
Got a question? Email your letters at [email protected] His advice column will appear on Wednesday.