Remember when we were sitting around and shooting the shit (In no literal fashion) and you'd said something rude and I responded with the term "Fuck you" of which we decided to take literally, and then from that, continued down this sweat mess of a trail that had more scissoring than a 1990's Tim Burton film about a man with literal scissors for hands and not in a manner of which you press and grind your genitals with another person for easiest friction as told to us by the book of pornography?
Don't worry, I'm sure I have the realplayer file somewhere - honestly though, I told you that format was going no where and that it wasn't "At any point going to make a comeback, really, they were the first, and they needed to be regarded better" Questionable evidence aside, I rather need to wrangle this little note to you before it turns into some ridiculously long 737 word explanation of which one might have to turn their podcast off in order to gather (Also in case your wondering, that might come to 3,369 letters not counting spaces and 4,132 with).
The thing is, for a while now I've become suspicious that you have moved on - I mean, at first it started out that you would be busy on friday nights, and quiet interested in dating apps, and very little of that interest for me to also make an account so that, the universe or whatever lazily coded algorithm could pair us together once more! No, you were content that you try it out, and that I stop hounding you about every little thing like - you know, condoms in our shared bed, and where that ring came from that currently sits on your "I'm in the process of being united with the person I truly love, please note that the girl beside me is not also sporting this, and draw the conclusions she is obviously not catching"
For whatever reason, I decided to let that go, I mean, you getting into sports and things, you getting that new friend that you'd talk to on the phone while we were at dinner, or that you were too tired for sex, unless you mean foot massage, and then please continue. Eventually when we'd walk together, you'd not introduce me as "This is the chick I'm currently rubbing my genitals with" to "This is the roommate who won't listen when I tell her I'm getting married soon, and that our relationship was never really much of a thing outside of me killing time while my profile gathered views on OK Cupid"
So anyway, I decided to take this time while you are busy packing boxes to move in with your fiance, I've begun to think its time for a break. I know, to me it seems rather rash, and coming out of left field (I know you've becoming super into sports, so I thought you might like that reference) but I feel like we've been moving in separate directions a little bit, and we might need some time to find ourselves! Me, most likely at the cat shelter, attempting to find companionship with something that will just put a virus on my brain and force me to make bad choices both of how many more felines should be living with me, but also in all other aspects of my life, and you, getting married and moving on.
So yeah, like I said, before it gets too long winded, I should say that it has been fulfilling for me, you know, the kind of life affirming thing that makes you want to spend the rest of your years with a person - and for your, apparently that there are better things on the horizon someplace else with genders of lower protruding genitals.
So good luck to you!
And to me.
I worry about me.