By Crystal Laramore & Deborah K. Martin
We get letters…we turn them into articles…it’s our job…it’s what we do...call it a public service.
Dear Richard, (They are ALL Richards)
You’d think I’d be done with all the crying in my beer and hanging out at pity parties, what with all those black balloons and sharp objects...
Seriously, it’s been 4 ½ years and how many breakups/breakthroughs? How many times have you, Richard, charmed your way back into my life? How many times, Richard, have I let you? And how stupid does that make ME? (Wait, that’s a subject for another article…)
This time however, is different in some ways. For one, it's the last time. I felt the tension for months before finally bringing up the fact that I believed we made “a mistake”. You quickly agreed and we took it from there. It was all so civilized, wasn’t it ,Richard? We even continued to live in the same house, albeit in separate bedrooms. We didn’t even fight. We laughed. And you even said you felt like a P.O.S. I told you there was no need for you to feel like a P.O.S. But, Richard - I lied. You are and you should.
Why did I ever want to try again with you, Richard, after what you’d put me through before? I think it was those pretty words and your charming nature. Maybe you spiked my Big A$$ Shiraz (BAS) with prozac...We get along so well, you see, that I always find it hard to believe we’re not in love anymore. It’s like that Michael McDonald song “I keep forgettin we’re not in love anymore”. And Oh yes, there was a time when I was stupid-in-love with you. Love of my life, I’d say. Can’t imagine life without him, I’d say. Even though you Richard, never kept your promises and continued to behave like a P.O.S. Why IS that?? Looking back, I say to myself, “Self, what WERE ya thinkin’??” Clearly, not much of MYSELF…
I guess sometimes even a bond with the wrong person can be a very strong one (with enough BAS & Prozac). We have almost 5 years of history between us, some of it very good. But the bad stuff finally outweighed the good stuff. Your drama, your immaturity, your bigotry, your laziness in the relationship? Hard to ignore, but the one thing – the ONE thing Richard - I could no longer ignore was your “the grass is always greener” attitude. That killed it for me. And then I wanted to kill you and with BAS & Prozac lying around, well you can see my dilemma...
You never wanted me when you had me, only when you didn’t or when another relationship went sour. Since you were just as cruel to others I guess I shouldn’t take it personally, but it’s sure hard not to. It feels personal to hear you say, “I’ve FINALLY found someone I can dance with”, when you know that’s my favorite thing to do and you know I’m better than her! Am too! And too much dancing at your age Richard...well let's just say you've been warned.
Another cleverly delivered line was when you moved back to your own place and said, “I’m FINALLY (there’s that word again) home,” after I worked so hard to make OUR home a haven for you. Why do men do that? Why do they just stand there saying stupid $hit, begging to die? It’s like that song in Chicago : one verse goes like this here “And then he ran into my knife. He ran into my knife 10 times”.
Anyhoo, it’s hard not to take things personally, Richard, when you continue to beg to come back only to start pulling away as soon as Three Men Movers pulls out of the gate. You loudly proclaim how wrong you were to leave, how simple life is with me and how complicated it is with everyone else – yet you still want someone (it seems anyone) else. Maybe you just have a crush on Three Men Movers. I’ve never been enough for you and that’s a feeling I no longer desire to experience. And where was LOVE in all this 'wanting to come back'?? NOW, with a little help from BAS & Prozac, I remember that you never said you missed me and LOVED me. You only said that I was easy (like Sunday morning?) Well, Richard, that’s no way to build a lifelong relationship.
I want someone who really loves me for who I am and appreciates what I bring to the table, besides the bone-in rib-eyes! For all your lip service, you never appreciated me and I don’t think you really loved me either. You said you did, but honey, words are cheap and plentiful. Without actions to back them up, the words only made me feel insecure. And if you were a real man Richard, you'd want your woman to feel loved and secure. Read that last sentence again, honey! If you were a REAL man, etc.
I'm not one of those “needy” women who have to have a man around to feel happy or complete. Having a good relationship is just a bonus as far as I’m concerned. But a relationship with you was kinda like a cash bonus, here one day gone the next. And when you go, like ya always do, AFTER the crying, AFTER the angst and self-doubt, AFTER the loneliness passes, Richard; I feel just fine. Better than fine. I feel like me again. And ya know what, Richard? I LIKE me and I LIKE life without your drama. I work with women, I have enough drama!
Maybe that’s part of your problem – you thrive on drama but can’t cope with everyday life. These days you’re back to club hopping. Really?! At your age??? (For the reader's he's in his late 50's.) When I’m thinking logically after a couple of bottles of BAS, I know that you are a very unhealthy person emotionally, and not nearly worthy of a terrific woman like me. I also know that if I’m patient with myself everything is going to be okay. If I can just stay away from the knife drawer next time you're near me. The challenge at the moment is getting from here to there; wanting to kill you phase to being ok phase; in case you can't connect the dots all by your selfish, worthless, POS self...oh my, did I say that out loud?
When I asked my best friend, Sophia, why I’m still feeling sad and angry even though I don’t want you back she said this: “It's all those pretty words they spoke from their pretty mouths that we ate up, digested and then had to puke up when they said ‘Sh!t. Never mind.’”
Then she told me to get a lot of BAS and Prozac. Duh! I'm a follower!
Broken promises are sharp like broken glass and hard to keep on the stomach. I guess I’ve still got some puking to do.
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