It’s not you. It’s me.
Fine. It IS you.
Here’s the thing. We’ve been together for years. They were good years. Really. It’s not that I’m ungrateful.
But things have changed. I’ve changed. You’ve changed.
Part of that is just how life goes. Our relationship, naturally, meant stretching and tugging . . . but over time all this pressure has taken its toll.
I haven’t tried to hide from you that there is someone else. Actually, more than one. They came in a two-pack at Costco.
I thought I could keep you around. That you’d be there for me when the others weren’t at their freshest.
But this morning, when I chose you instead of digging the newbies out of the dirty clothes pile, I saw our relationship for what it truly is.
You . . . don’t support me the way you once did.
Or maybe I’ve realized how much better things can be with someone newer, stronger. Someone who, when allowed close to my heart, lets me run with abandon.
I know. The same thought crossed my mind. That you could stick around just for the days when I do the easy stuff, maybe the elliptical or a walk around the block.
But we both know how that would play out, right?
You’d sit in the drawer for weeks at a time, passed over for the newer, less-stretchy girls.
And then, one day, I’d be faced with a choice: Keep digging until I find one of the others, or convince myself that you’re fine. That you used to be the best I had, so one day together won’t be a bad thing.
But this morning, as we ran . . . I realized it was time for us to part.
I can’t . . . go through this . . . again.
I need someone who can keep up with my new lifestyle. Someone who doesn’t lag (or sag) behind.
So, though I’ve appreciated you for (too many) years, I’m saying goodbye.