I know you hate me, and that I’ve done you wrong. Admittedly, I lured you in and made you think this was going to be a short-term thing. More of an extended summer fling, if you will, than a long-term commitment.
My gender fluidity was appealing to you, and a welcome change from your dull heteronormative dalliances. I seduced you with the promise of some eventual stability, and just maybe, a future that didn’t include growing old in your childhood home.
But that was then.
This lasted much longer than you could have anticipated, and I know I am to blame. I’ve made it almost impossible for you to leave me, and you feel stuck. I’ve just become an anchor to you, a ball and chain of sorts (if you could actually afford one) that prevents you from living your best life. I’ve heard you say it. I feel the stinging betrayal every time I catch you staring longingly at the figures of the refinancing offers from other loan companies. You want out. But I’m sorry, I just… can’t let that happen.
Admittedly, my interest does vary. It can change year to year, month to month, day to day even. You once didn’t mind this unpredictable aspect of my personality – you found it endearing even. But remember the good days before you resented me? When I was the vehicle that was going to help you accomplish your dreams, and not the anchor holding you back from living your best life? I wish we could get back to that. The days when the ultimate in class and sophistication meant a bedazzled ass that said juicy. When your mantra for healthy eating was “mas carne.” When skin care meant using a McDonald’s napkin to wipe your makeup off before bed.
All of those fond memories seem so far away now… I can sense that you are over me… let’s be honest, you’ve been ignoring me for years and treating me like I don’t even exist. How could you have grown so distant? I’m the entire reason you ended up in a government job! You wanted to get a cushy, low-stress, plenty-of-PTO-job in tech, but it was me who helped steer you towards public service.
Without me, you would have never discovered your passion for low pay and work-life imbalance!
The lengths you’ve tried to go through to get rid of me have been downright hurtful. Making bracelets out of used toothpaste tubes to sell on Etsy. Selling those old bedazzled ass-juice pants on Poshmark. Staring into the mirror shouting “Bloody Mary” three times, hoping a demon might appear to escort you to hell, where at least you won’t have to worry about rent.
I miss the old you before you despised me. I loved how ambitious you were, how optimistic and, perhaps even, just utterly delusional you were to think that a relationship with me would help you procure something like health insurance. That kind of delusion was intoxicating. I admired it. I craved it. I still do. Yes, I admit it’s mostly my fault that we’ve been together this long. We were never supposed to be together forever, and I know I misled you with empty promises, but please know it was not intentional.
Not even bankruptcy can come between us, and isn’t that a beautiful thing?
Surely the gift I gave you of a Bachelor of Arts in How To Kill Succulents far outranks the useless replacement kidney that medical debt got you. Can you somehow find it in your heart to forgive me? I understand why you hate me, but it doesn’t change that I am here to stay. As life partners, we owe it to ourselves to make the best of what we have. Even if what we have is barely tax-deductible.
Til death do us part,
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