My dearest So-and-so:
I’ll be blunt. This just isn’t working out. And I think we need to start seeing other people. Privately.
Sure, we had some good times. After all it wouldn’t be much of a relationship if we hadn’t had at least a few laughs. I remember that time back in college after that night partying. It was hilarious! In fact, I’m pretty sure we promised not to bring it up ever again. And the point is we just don’t click, you know?
What it comes down to is, I think, we’re too different. Where I want to be invisible and virtually ignored, you take notice of every little detail and more often than not have to point it out. I mean, seriously, I can’t walk down the street without a comment about my guide dog! All you ever can say is how awesome she is and how she makes you think of your old dog or that you just can’t believe they let a dog wherever it is we happen to be. I get it already, okay? I don’t suppose you’ve considered this, but the truth is there isn’t a person on the face of this Earth who could be more aware of the fact that my partner is amazing. Not a one.
Which perhaps is why you have unrealistic expectations of my guide dog. She’s the pinnacle of perfection in your eyes. Yeah, she has a better work ethic than the both of us combined, but then again she gets to sleep for large chunks of her work day. Forgetting for the moment those times that you mistook her for a wolf, you seem to have trouble grasping the simple fact that she is a dog. When she does things that any normal dog does, it almost seems to offend you. If I didn’t know better I would swear you just didn’t like dogs. Except that seems unlikely given how every conversation we have inevitably ends up being about her in some way. I know I said I wanted to be invisible, but I am quite literally ignored in comparison to the attention you lavish on my companion.
Where things between us truly break down is that you seem to think of my guide dog as community property. You want to talk to her, pet her, feed her . . . basically if it’s a form of distraction, you totally want to do it all the time. What’s more is that it’s my fault when she does get distracted by you. You look at it as if she’s somehow tainted by my ineptness or inherently deficient because of this one moment of weakness. And by the nature of having to correct her for this misdeed, I’m a mean person! Exactly which one of us is the blind one here?
It’s not just this lack of understanding, though. Basically, I feel smothered by you. I guess it’s flattering that you think I’m just that awesome, but I don’t even think I’m that interesting, Not to mention you’re everywhere I go and are constantly aware of every single thing I do. If I think about it too much it actually creeps me out. I mean, if I wanted Big Brother following me around I’d be vying for a spot on some reality TV show, don’t you think?
Now I don’t want to sound like I’m blaming you for all the failings of our relationship. I’ve basically ignored your very existence and gone about my life as if you weren’t a part of it. In fact, it seems the more I work towards not engaging you the harder you try to get my attention. If the neediness wasn’t enough to drive a wedge between us, you top it off with rudeness and outright hostility! Hardly seems fair when I’m a bit short with you.
So, here’s my proposal: We cut our losses here and go our separate ways. To break it down further, my plan is to continue doing things as I please, going about my life just as I always have and I sincerely hope you do the same. We’re bound to meet face-to-face, though, and so we also agree to be civil, even cordial. You will restrain yourself from being overly friendly with my guide dog and I’ll happily answer any questions you have about her provided I have the time. Oh, and you don’t stalk me. Sound fair?
I await your reply.