Sometimes, even though it is painful, even though you have spent years loving someone with your body and soul, you come to the grief-filled realization that a relationship has run its course.
Jessica Burgess
Clearly Unedited
Oh, God, this is hard. But I'll just say it.
Steve Nash, I am over you.
I know I promised everlasting devotion. I know that I used to think the way you licked your fingers before making free throws was cute. I know that I used to defend your hair as sweaty, not greasy.
But what we had is gone. I am sorry.
When did I realize that the romance was dying? It's difficult to pinpoint. When you moved to Phoenix for a higher-paying job, I can't deny that I was very hurt. But still, I thought we could make it work.
But as time went by, I realized that I wasn't attracted to you anymore. You look a lot better in blue and green than in purple and orange. Actually, nobody looks good in purple and orange. Who picked those colors anyway? Are Barney and Tony the Tiger the marketing execs for the Suns?
Whatever. The point is that it's over.
In fact, the only reason I've bothered to contact you is that I've heard that you're coming to town today, and to be honest, I'm a little creeped out. Is this an effort to rekindle something between us? Well, I'm sorry, but there is no chance for reconciliation. I've met someone else. His name is Dirk.
I've known him for a while, but since you've been gone, our friendship has developed into something more.
He's completely devoted to me. And very jealous.
So jealous, in fact, that I suspect he will take the opportunity of your visit to give you a pounding.
(A metaphorical pounding, of course. No punching allowed in the NBA.)
But, God help me, I still love you. So if, while you're in town, we happen to run into each other, I hope we don't exchange harsh words.
Maybe you could just give me a hug. And I could give you some shampoo.
Jessica isn't fooling anyone, is she? Steve, e-mail her at jburgess@quickdfw.com. She'd love to hook up.
