Dear Jane

I can’t blame any of this on you. I mean, you snore like a beast, your breath smells like rotten lamb and your entire immediate family is a very effective counter-argument to the pro-life campaign. But other than these little flaws, you are perfect and priceless. I wonder who will be the lucky man to finally win your heart. I do have a friend or two you could date on the rebound if you’re interested. They both have military backgrounds and drink heavily; you may find them agreeable to your curious lifestyle habits of strict dietary régime and ability to consume alcohol until people get worried when they don’t see you stumbling as you walk.

But we had fun together, remember? The vacation to Vermont was great, and the memories will last a lifetime. We watched the sun set over the tall maples, made love in that bed and breakfast during a snow storm, and got kicked out of that Indian casino because you told the blackjack dealer, “Go get pail-face another scotch, pronto Tonto!” I hope that’s the first and last time you’ll ever have to give a written apology to an entire tribal nation.

I cannot live a lie anymore! I love, and am loved in return, by a woman I can only describe as my soul mate. I know you are an emotional woman at times, so I hope this letter finds you in good spirits as you read it. Although your first thoughts may be to seek retribution, I beg you not to let your temper get the better of you. Your rages can be quite the thing to see. Remember the little kitchen knife “accident” that occurred when you found out it was I who was using your q-tips? I still have the scars on my back, my love. But I am willing to forgive and forget. I only hope you can be so mature as to do the same.

In conclusion, although I’m planning to move far, far away from you, change my telephone number and email address, and get a court order preventing you from coming within 100 feet of me, that doesn’t mean we can’t stay friends.

I want you to know that I love you in my own little way now and forever. I will never forget you or those little life lesions we learned together. Please, look upon the time we spent together with fondness and reverence. Let herbs be bitter, not you.

With love,

John M. Overandout.