A Take on the 21st Century Dear John Letter
Dear John, I'm sitting here, at that walnut table you had to have, sending this to your work email because you couldn't even manage to leave your desk for our anniversary. Our third anniversary! What is wrong with you!? Six months ago, you said you were going to try to get that promotion, and news flash, Gary from Accounting is going to get it. I know I said to go for it, and I've been supporting you, cleaning the house, paying the bills, cooking all the meals. However, you're not helping me in the slightest, and I never see you anymore. I work a 9-5 too, it's not that hard to take out the trash. Yesterday, my mother came over and continued to badger me about when we're going to get married. I looked at her like she was crazy, and I realized I've been crazy too. I can't keep doing this. You're a really funny person, and you have a sweet side that's sort of hidden from people who don't know you. I know you care about me, but it's not enough. Sometimes I want to rip my hair out because you don't take anything seriously. You've been cagey about this pursuing this promotion whenever I ask, and you avoid taking responsibility. You're an adult; I'm an adult, we should be able to communicate and work our problems out in a healthy manner, but you're always dismissing my concerns and giving me empty apologies and promises. John, you said we would get married after you got the promotion, but did you just not want to commit? I thought you would make the effort to have a nice dinner with me on our anniversary, after the rough patch that's been the last six months, but obviously you're prioritizing being a paperpusher over our relationship, if you even remembered it was coming up. I'm fed up with having to deal with this. I don't have the energy to keep investing myself in "us" just to be reminded of how little I matter to you. I don't have the capacity to be a housekeeper, personal chef, and laundress to the ENTIRE household, and I shouldn't have to! Eventually, you'll have to be a functional adult, but I'm not staying until you figure it out. Good Ridance,
Your new Ex