You painted a pretty little picture with your post. All sweet and sad wrapped up into one. I loved you too…though I’m going to paint another side of the same picture.
You thought it was time for us to go our separate ways. Well, my dear…I’m thinking it was because I called you on your bullshit.
Yes, we were lovers…for the first year, but then you started… you started to string me along; dangling your sex only to pull it back. You started to turn me into the shoulder and ear to yet another story of yet another boyfriend.
I had no problem with them by the way; they made no difference to me. I’m patient, but after a year of that… and then over a coffee not that long ago, you did it again. That was strike three. And without stamping my foot, I called you on it.
You see my dear… they were getting theirs, but I wasn’t getting mine. Plain and simple.
I got more to say if you want…. —spot on
This article appears in Nov 6-12, 2014.
OB are you male or female? If you are male, please stop saying ‘dear’, it makes you sand Hannibal Lecter-y
….go on.
Yes. Do go on but I am sure your friend would prefer to hear it in person. I mean, who wouldn’t?