i write this letter, a heartbroken woman.
you see, i’ve come to a realization. a rather solemn and depressing one i’m finding, that it’s not me Black, it’s you. when we started this unexpected relationship, we were perfect. you were so much of what i wanted: smart, worldly, good looking, nice package, and we got along famously, you and i. i knew exactly what buttons to push and which not, to get what i wanted. you always made sure i was always happy. and i appreciated you in ways no one before you has ever seen, Black. i took care of you. like new Love usually is, we were inseparable. like a doting wife i always made sure you had enough energy, even bought you fresh gear a time or two, cleaned after you, everything.
and as i look at your blank stare i now realize that it was all for naught. you didn’t appreciate me the way you were supposed to. i told you all my secrets, gave page after page to your memory for you to hold dear. you knew my family, and all the secrets my friends made me promise to never share. even sent sexy pics sometimes just to make you smile, since you seem to like Curves.
and now that i want them back, you refuse. glaring at me with that blank expression, heartless and mute.
i don’t know what happened with us, but it’s clear the Love once so strong, has evaporated. you’ve become temperamental, moody. only answering when you want, not responding to text messages, shutting down, going cold, shutting me out when you know how important communication is to me.
…and i won’t mention the problem you’ve had lasting lately, if you get my drift. we used to go all day– intense, hours long sessions. you never needed a break. now, i can barely keep you going for thirty minutes before you’re hitting E. maybe i just don’t do it for you anymore, Black.
so my dear BB, wait–can i still call you BB? we can be friends after this right? there is something i must tell you. …there is someone else. and before you get all in your feelings, no, i’ve not even touched him. we’ve not gone out, and we’re not official … yet. i call him Andi. my friends have been trying to introduce us for a while, but i’ve always refused, stuck by your side, no matter how lame they thought you were, or how much they praised Andi, claimed he would do more for me than you ever could. i didn’t want to believe them, but now that you’ve quit on me, on us, left me hanging so heartlessly; i must face my heartbreak, and move on.
and no worries, i’ll cite irreconcilable differences, so they won’t know our business.