Sunday, December 26, 2010
We need to talk.
We've been together for over two years now, and I just don't know where we're going with all this. I know this may be difficult for you to hear, but I think we need to take a break. I know what you're going to say; we're happy, we can make this work, and in the summer time I agree. But in the winter it's like you're a different person. I feel like I don't even know you any more.
I used to look forward to your endless snow drifts and sub-zero temperatures, but now it scares me. I go outside in January and I'm worried you'll hurt me. I can't live like this anymore. Not going outside for the legitimate fear of dying is no way to live. You've done this to me on more than one occasion now. There was the time I slipped on the ice last winter right outside my house. I was on my way to work and realized I had forgotten my phone and you totally took advantage of me, waiting until I tried to rush quickly back to the house before knocking me on my ass. Then just yesterday, you tricked me once again. I thought I was safe taking off my snow boots. I only had to be outside for a minute, but you couldn't let it go. I stepped on the ground and next thing, I saw the sky. Why do you treat me like this?!
Two years I've tried to make it work with you, and you won't even give me a permanent job! I gave up my family and friends to be with you, and you won't even give me PTO and health care....come on!
The truth is, I met some else. His name was Vegas. Nothing happened, but it made me realize I'm just not happy. Some days I want to wake up and see sunshine streaming through the window. Not sunshine that would freeze the snot in my nose, but sunshine that would make me a better person. You know, if I lived in a warmer climate, I'd eat less, I'd be more tanned, I'd even shave my legs occasionally. I'd be better all-round. It's not even about Vegas. It's about living with someone that I don't have to vehemently defend for 6 months of the year.
I'm tired of standing out. I went to buy a case of beer yesterday and had to explain to the clerk in the liquor store where I was from, why I was here, how long I'd been here, how I found the winters. Sometimes I just want to buy a case of PBR without getting the third degree. There are other places I could be where nobody would bat an eyelid that I had a different accent. Sometimes I want to wear a dress without the raised eyebrows and silent 'la-dee-da, who does she think she is' judgments that come with being with you. There is more to life than dressing for practicality. Sometimes a girl should be able to wear heels and a glam outfit without it having to be her wedding day. I'm sorry, Minnesota, but I just don't think you're the one. It's not you, it's me.