:: An exercise in writing exactly what everyone wanted to hear. ::


ThoughtWorks. 

First, let me say... I love you. I loved you the moment we met and I love you still. There is a genuine passion between us which no one can take away. 

But love, be it for pastrami on rye or the man of your dreams, is fickle. And I won't beat about a bush when I admit that recent shifts in climate made Sam's previously limited appeal blossom. He always had the throbbing chest and the strong arm a girl both lusts for and fears all at once. 

But you don't want to hear about that. This isn't Village v. Sam, Spirit v. Letter, uptight self-righteousness v. thinly-veiled contempt. No, this is about you and me. About the goodbye I'm about to sputter. About the admission I must first make. 

That admission, my dear ThoughtWorks, is that I've cheated on you. Someone waved a wad in my face... I closed my eyes and opened my mouth. I know he's had a thousand other girls before me but perhaps, on some gruesome level, there is appeal in that. It's not something I'm proud of, TW, but I'm leaving you for him. I'm leaving you for DRW. 

Do I expect him to catapult me to a palace in the sky? To feed me things I've never tasted? To pleasure me in ways you haven't? To ride me around his palace on a golden pony that shits candy on command? 

Not really. 

I'm already aware there are realities you've shielded me from which he will not -- and opportunities you've provided me which he won't. His touch is hardly as soft and when he kisses me he bites a little too hard. His heart obviously isn't in it, but that doesn't mean I won't try to make him love me the way you have. 

That's a love that runs deep, mind you. From Clinton filling my Cadbury Cream Egg with mustard to Raymond thrusting his arse into unsuspecting followers whenever he bent down to tie a shoe, it's been a spectacular three years. 

You were understanding when I showed up at Suncor on a Monday morning with knuckles ripped to shreds and an ankle the size of a cantaloupe. You provided bobby and me with sufficient liquor to steal the necktie of a man who tricked expiring seniors out of their life insurance. And last, but not least, without you I would have never kissed a boy. (Does Hakan qualify as a boy?) 

This has been the greatest joblationship I've ever had. It's been very hard for me to leave, but a restless wanderer is a restless wanderer. I hope that we'll stay friends no matter where I end up. 

Your little princess, 
         Steven