(Cross-posted at the Waddling Bison blog)
My dearest Micki D,
We've been together for...ever, really. As long as I can remember, you've been a part of my life. When I was a child, I used to beg my parents to let me go to your house, because lunch with you made me happy, and you always shared your toys.
As I grew, my appetite for your companionship grew as well. My love for you was super-sized, and your affect on me multiplied. Sometimes, in high school, my busy schedule with work and sports kept us from seeing each other so often, and the lack of companionship was as plain to see.
But with college, and especially in the early part of my post-college career, our relationship was renewed, and it deepened daily. I'd stop by and see you in the mornings on my way to work, and sometimes immediately after work, on my way home. You welcomed me at your window, and bestowed your paper-wrapped presents on me.
This affection we shared grew to a deep love, freely refilled day by day. And it's been great, Micki. Really. Believe me when I say, I'm lovin' it.
But something has happened to me. I've started making changes in my life. And I have to confess--I just don't think we can see each other anymore.
It's not you. You've been great. I just don't know if our relationship has been healthy for me. I know I'm the only one to blame in this; you never claimed to be anything but what you are, and I loved you for that. And lately, as you have emphasized your particular values, I have to confess that loving you has never been cheaper or easier.
However, in the last few months, sneaking off to see you has left me feeling guilty every time. I try to pretend I'm only an acquaintance, and sometimes even lie about our trysts. I can't do that anymore.
You've been great, Micki. Really. But my life is taking me down new roads. And you can't come with me this time.
I'm really sorry. But we're through. If we cross paths in the future, it's okay to wave, or say hi. But we can never be this close again.
Know that you will always have a quarter-pound of my heart.
Your special sauce,
P.S. If you see your sister Wendy, tell her I need to talk to her, okay?