This is the letter I wrote in response to being dumped on voicemail after the holidays. The lesson I learned dating this guy is listen to your gut feeling and don't let things drag on longer than they need to. There are bigger, better and more fish in the sea.
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I don’t imagine you will read this email at all. You’ll probably delete it to spare your feelings and diminish mine because that’s just the way you are with your ego. But if you do find the courage to read this, I have to tell you I’m sorry for getting so involved so fast if at all. Having a relationship with you seemed promising, but it just was not in the cards. Your life simply has very little room in it for me and I allowed my involvement to go on far too long.
My roughly 130 day relationship with you was punctuated in the beginning with the death of your neighbor and you calling me about every ten minutes while I was dealing with a business client and then the death of your guinea pig. I watched you coil into a fetal position and cry “your mom and everyone only wants you for your how much money you can make for them”, after the animal died which was clearly not the case with me because I could care less how well-off you think you are. I’ve dated men richer than you and I’ve dated men poorer than me and as long as they can pay their bills and I’m not paying for them all the time, I really don’t care what you make. And in the end with the announcement of your father’s heart attack, probably awaking the feelings of your own mortality more than ever because you talked about giving my son your personal property?, as well as the death of your cousin, which you didn’t even bother to tell me about until you were almost on your way home but conveniently got stuck in Seattle over New Years Eve and then we had that mishap with the airport. I mean, I called you and even texted you, too, for three hours while I waited for you to land, but you ignored me and never replied. You said you’d call when you got to the airport and you never did.
In between was approximately 12 days of you and me in bed and/or on dinner dates, one dedication ceremony for work and a few times at the lake. All the rest of the time, you seemed to be busy and working, exhausted, sick and even in the hospital and if you had the time, you weren’t interested in what I wanted to do. For instance, when I told you I thought It would be cool for us to go and kayak on the Newport Back Bay after watching a show on PBS, you thought it would be funny to run the jet ski through it and my idea was never brought up again. When you put parameters around me talking to you on the phone (remember when you said, “I talk all day on the phone at work so I don’t want to spend a lot of time talking to you on the phone, I rather talk to you in person”), to use a baseball analogy… was strike one. In person, exhausted from your long work day you wanted to eat then frequently fell asleep on the couch or in the club chair. Keeping the schedule that you do, whatever it is you make up for yourself, must be maintained for the benefit of the project and I understand that. With it out of control, it also wears on your health and runs you into the ground so much so you have no time or energy for me. Although there were other glaring instances I could mention, strike two was the three times I invited you to dinner either out or at my house thinking that you not having to cooking would be less of a strain on you but you didn’t even acknowledge that. I guess my choices are not good enough for you, so they were dismissed. No one had ever died from my cooking and my friends seem to like the places I eat out at, so maybe that was just your own personal hang-up.
The third strike was the level of communication you had with me versus your construction friends. It was clearly different… like when you slipped and said you told one of then that ‘she likes to fuck, she’d never say no to that’ or how you said that you couldn’t wait to tell them and so they would laugh their head off about me yelling ‘no’ a million times on the back of the jet ski, something I had never did before in my life and was absolutely terrified about because I’m not a fan of deep water. It wasn’t funny, it was cruel. Or the email you sent bout how stockbrokers should jump out of the windows of the NYSE because the market got so bad due to the housing crisis. You knew I worked in the financial field for years and I felt that was totally insensitive of you. I can only imagine what else you told them about making me out to be the butt of your jokes.
I’m not going to even get into your random acts of drunkenness, public or otherwise. You know what those were because even you said you drink too much and it’s because of the stress level you deal with at work. That moment of personal clarity and your ability to self-correct on that one element gave me a glimmer of hope things might get better about the other aspects of your life, too, but I guess that was too much to wish for. Oh yeah, you’re scratchy eyes were caused by you drinking too much wine all the time – nothing more and nothing less. Your eyes need to be hydrated with something other than wine, so on a wine drinking binge when your liver and kidneys get overloaded with it, that’s what happens – that sand in your eyes feeling. That and the onset of adult acne. Now I understand part of the reason what the witch hazel was used for.
But to top it off, the holiday season, November and December, was the worst and it was the most lonely and depressing time for me ever. On Thanksgiving, you were sick yet again and so into your own incapacity, you never picked up the phone when I called and then failed to call me and let me know you having my son and I over for Thanksgiving dinner was cancelled. When I showed up on your doorstep, I’m sorry I even gave my son the opportunity to shake your hand because up until that point he thought you were just a figment of my imagination when I talked about you. I ended up salvaging the meal and we had turkey after all that weekend, but you never bothered to ask what I did or to reschedule. After that, we never seemed to get back on track. I put together a gift basket for you for Christmas of Asian food from your favorite store and two different cook books with the thought that you enjoy cooking so much, told you I wanted to deliver it, but you never found the time to accept it in person. I just left it on your doorstep and you didn’t even bother to say ‘thank you’ later.
The last time I talked to you on the phone, and I had not seen you in 5 weeks by then, you informed me that it was my job to interrogate you so that I could learn the details of what is going on in your life. I stood there dumbfounded because, hey, isn’t sharing your feelings and the details of your life however mundane they may be just simple human communication?
You have been through some of the most stressful times in your life since we met in August and it took its toll on whatever relationship was eked out in between. Thanks for leaving me a message on voicemail that you are not going to be calling me anymore.
