We dated for eight years. I lived with you for six. I finally left you on my 25th birthday… that means we started dating while I was 17. You had just finished filing for your divorce. I thought, at the time, I was special, better. It made me feel good, especially given my tumultuous relationship with my parents at the time.
Well, I’ve grown up now.
I left you the joint checking account, and you drained it and bounced checks in my name. I left you the cats, thinking that you’d be lonely and you needed them more than I did, since I was the one doing the leaving… and already you’ve found someone new, who you’ve been showing off as “someone even younger than lovelee”. I feel bad for her, and I hope she doesn’t make the same mistakes that I did. I also feel bad for you, considering you have apparently learned absolutely nothing from our relationship - you’re behaving exactly as you did when I met you… including badmouthing your former significant other.
I was apparently the one who ruined your plans for early retirement, but you’re showing off your checking account statements, with 12k in it (9k of which was from the joint checking account, which I gave you with no strings attached because I thought of it as “rent”).
I’ve dealt with the constant questions at work concerning the 15k you gave back to me, since you felt the need to explain the situation to everyone. I considered it only fair, especially since it was the down payment on the house that was in your name only, that you’re keeping (again, no strings attached). And somehow, even though you sent the check with a letter saying “It’s not about the money,” it seems to be… especially when you’re talking to my co-workers.
I hope you’re happy. I think you’re making the same mistakes as you did with me, eight years ago. I hope this new girl is more malleable than I grew up to be, just so you don’t have the same argument over “Stepford Wives” as we did, where you indicated that you didn’t think the husbands were out of line because the wives put themselves in a subordinate position anyway, and deserved to be replaced. And you’d better be giving the cat his medicine every day, because if I find out that he’s died due to his totally preventable condition, I’ll come over to your house and squeeze your testicles in needlenose pliers. I miss him much more than I miss you. I cry because I miss my cat, while you’re out dancing, drinking Guinness, smoking cigars, planning ski trips, and telling everyone how I’m a horrible person for ruining your financial dreams.
And stop giving my few mutual friends guilt trips for hanging out with me. Especially considering that I essentially broke away from the whole “circle” so you could have the support I thought you needed.
Also, I want the stuff back that’s been left in the attic for a time when you could “get everything together”. What I want is all in boxes… my childhood craft projects, quilts my relatives made for me when I was a baby… how can you go about looking for someone new with a clear conscience, knowing all these memories of mine are held hostage? Especially when I asked you for these things more than a month ago?