Jane,
It's with a great sadness that I write this letter. Our relationship, such as it is has come to a sad end.
I want to make sure that you get closure, so I'm happy to share with you the reasons I think we should bring our 'affair-de-coeur' to a close, and why I need to set you free so that you can fly.
1) You don't respect my career choices. How many mornings did you call me from your humdrum office to ask me what I was planning on doing today? When I am clearly observing life, so that I can reflect it as a comedian. Every time I say this, you claim - rather blithely - that I should maybe write some jokes. But that's not what a comedian does! A comedian searches to preach truth, and to observe humanity in its purest form. I was under the impression that you rather enjoyed your role in our relationship as 'patron of the arts'. The sad occasion upon which I brought this up is the subject of point number two.
2) You are verbally abusive - I'm not sure if you have the self awareness to understand how much you undermine me, or how much my self confidence has suffered during my relationship with you. Every whispered 'for F--'s sake', and 'ah here' was another cut at my psyche. Every time I fell afoul of one of your 'rules' (and you do like to play little tin god!) I found myself in the way of one of your legendary tongue lashings! When you came back from pushing paper to find me, deep in the creative process - Creating! Dreaming! - You cut me down with your talk of 'Breakfast dishes' and 'at least put the milk in the fridge!'. I am not your domestic!
3) You don't validate me - As a creative, comedic person, I'm not too big to admit that I have certain 'insecurities'. Yes, I worry if the path I have chosen is the right one, If Stand-up Comedy is genuinely the form that I shall be remembered for. You, however, capitalize on that! Every time I mention my art, you ask me about 'gigs', or 'material'. When I performed my monologue for you - a masterpiece of pithy observation, mind! You only saw the basest, crassest form of the medium - you could not hear the truth, unless it came balanced with a 'punchline'. Yes, the material dealt with our relationship - but that is the truth of our lives! Surely you can see that my impression of your mother exploring her sexuality was not personal, rather just me holding up a mirror to the small-town, small-minded values she has passed on to you. Which brings me to...
4) Sexually, I intimidate you. Don't get me wrong. our lovemaking had the potential to be glorious. But I knew we were not compatible. Take that Tuesday you claimed you had to work late. I prepared a sumptuous erotic banquet of flesh for you - a shockingly decadent mixture of pleasure and pain. I had planned on hours of athletic, dangerous - and yes, sometimes demeaning exploration of each others bodies. I had purchased a variety of premium lubricants. But you - coldly - rejected the prospect of this journey into deepest sensation. You came into the apartment, took one look at the swing i had mounted and sat on the sofa in your winter coat, asking me to rub your feet, sobbing and self-absorbedly mumbling something about your performance review and redundancies. I despair for your future lovers.
5) I worry that I'll break you emotionally. Believe it or not, I care deeply for you. My biggest concern in ending our relationship is for your feelings. I want you to grow as a person, and I recognise that I am holding you back. In another sense, you are holding me back - we hold each other back. Let’s blossom together, apart.
I would ask that you not share this letter with anyone else, even though it is quite well written, and has a number of very apt and wry observations (I may use some of these in my standup comedy). The confidentiality is more for your sake than mine. I want to make sure that we remain respectful during this painful and sad process.
With love and tears,
Dennis
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