The letter I’ll never give to my
new former love interest.
I’m sorry. I really wish that things had worked out differently. I know that for you, at the tender age of twenty-seven I’m old. I know that I am not the tall, athletic type that most women find attractive. But I’m kind, generous, and an overall decent guy. In other words, a world apart from the guys you’re used to dating – including the male DNA donor for your son. We could have been good together.
When I asked you out, your first question was my age. Upon learning this information, you politely informed me that the difference was too much. I accepted this, and expected that to be the end of it. But you kept talking to me. Nothing leading, just small talk. I thrived on the attention, and my crush on you got stronger.
Before I could stop myself, I was spoiling you. You want to take your kid to the zoo, but don’t have the money and don’t know when you’ll have another weekend off? Here, take some cash and have fun. Your oil change is more than a thousand miles overdue? Here, let me take care of that for you. And while I have your car, I’ll fill it up with gas, since the low fuel light is on. You had to cut your hair very short because it was falling out? Here, let me buy you some overpriced supplements and an expensive shampoo/conditioner system that your stylist said might help. You’re bored during your days/time off and just happened to mention missing the Wii that you sold last year? Here, let me buy you a pre-owned one and a fifty dollar gift certificate for games.
During this time, we talked lots. You’d text me when you got up, and we’d talk until you got to work. At night we’d talk from the time I got up until you had to go to bed. You agreed to reconsider the age difference between us in the context of a possible romantic relationship. Hell, you even invited me to come to the zoo with you.
But the day before we were supposed to go, you rescinded the invitation. I was disappointed, but I understood. And honestly, I would have preferred to get to know you alone first before playing family. But I wasn’t about to turn down a day with you.
Somewhere about this time, something changed. Our conversations tapered off. I was still doing stuff for you, but you stopped texting me in the mornings. When I texted you, your replies were slow, when they came at all. My attempts at small talk got brief answers at best, and maintaining a conversation with you became a chore. You never asked anything about me.
In time, it got to where you would only initiate conversations with me to whine about how much your job sucks, or to ask me for stuff. A puppy. A specific game for the Wii. Upgrading the manicure that I’d already paid for to a mani/pedi. I turned you down, because if I’m going to be used, it’s going to be on my terms.
I’m not sure what happened. Maybe I said or did something wrong. Maybe you’ve changed your attitude in an attempt to push me away without telling me how you feel directly. Or maybe you’re simply trying to see how much you can get from me for the least amount of effort.
But whatever the case, I think I’m done. It’s not nearly as much fun when you ask for things. Especially when the maximum I get is, “Thanks for the stuff.” No comment about the teddy bear being cute, or telling me what you got with the gift certificate, or if they did a good job on your nails. Just, “Thanks for the stuff.” And the communication that we had is pretty much a thing of the past.
I never put strings or conditions on anything that I gave you. I asked for nothing in return. But I did want a return on my investment. Your appreciation, and your attention via our conversations was enough, although I did hope that you’d eventually go out with me. I simply wanted to make you happy. I didn’t expect you to gush over every little thing, or to spend every free minute talking to me. But you had time for me at first. And to be as bored as you claimed to be when you wanted something from me, you certainly could have spared more attention than you’ve given recently.
On another subject, if I’d known that you were a smoker, I would never have asked you out in the first place. But at the time I found out, you also told me that you wanted to quit. So I bought you the patches. And after you had the allergic reaction to the generic ones, I bought you the more expensive brand. When those caused the same problem, I offered to pay for you to see a doctor and get a prescription alternative. You declined. Maybe you don’t really want to quit all that bad after all.
Consequently, I’m relatively certain that you will be a lifelong smoker. I can’t handle that. Not only is it a vile, disgusting, and expensive habit, but there are serious health risks. I know that not everyone who smokes gets lung cancer, emphysema, or COPD, but there is a definite link. I watched helplessly as my best friend lost his wife to lung cancer. She was forty-five. I’m not going to put myself in a position to suffer similarly. Life has enough risks as it is.
You have given no indication that there might be a chance for a future for us, despite saying that you would think about it. You barely even acknowledge what I do anymore. You now ask (not hint, but straight up ask) for stuff that is firmly in the “want” category, as though you’re entitled to it. Were we a couple, you’d get it all, and more. But we seldom even talk otherwise. That’s just not good enough for me.
I’ll still be your friend for as long as you want. I’ll listen to you bitch about whatever sucks for you at the moment. If you truly need something, and I’m in a position to help, I might lend a hand. But the days of you being my pretend girlfriend are over. Earn it, or don’t get it.
Good luck, and goodbye.