This is a letter I hoped I’d never have to write. I think it’s pretty evident that we’ve grown apart ever since I graduated, and I just can’t ignore these feelings anymore. I know we said nothing would change, and we said after I moved that the distance would only make our limited time together that much sweeter. But after last night, I think its best that we both move on. I mean, I saw the way you let those 18-year-old kids in the door–they didn’t even have good fake IDs! I remember when you used to look at me like that. God, those were the days.
I know this sounds cliché, but it’s not you…it’s me. My tastes have changed, my priorities have changed. We had some great times together, but I’m finally ready to take the next step, and that means I have to leave you behind. We should call it like it is now, before we start to resent holding each other back.
Every time I see you, I want to remember that same dimly lit, dingy-floored bar–I got my first Minor in Possession citation outside of you. I want to remember that beer-soaked dance floor, where I puked on Nicole Felcher’s shoes while I was robot dancing to “Another One Bites the Dust.” And last weekend, when I stood by the high table trying to enjoy my Shiner Bock, I looked out at all those college kids taking Jager bombs and talking about spring break. I realized I couldn’t keep living this way. I need to meet new bars; new bars with similar interests and happy hour specials where I can go and bitch about my shitty boss and the terrible commute. I need to go where people will understand me.
I will always love what we had, Favorite College Bar. You made me happier and got me drunker than I could have thought physically possible. All you did was give and give, and you never asked for anything in return…except the occasional $10 cover on all you-can-drink-pitchers night. It wouldn’t be fair of me to try and change you, or to make you more appropriate for my age and new lifestyle. This can’t be like the other times we’ve broken up. It won’t be like when you raised the price of LITs by $2 and I started seeing that other bar across campus until you came to your senses, or like when I woke up under the wheelchair entrance ramp to the library with that hangover and swore off drinking all together. This is final.
We both could see this coming, and as much as our past has kept us together, it’s time to embrace our futures…separately. They say if you love something, you have to let it go. So that’s what I’m doing. Spread your wings and fly away, little bird. I hope we can still be friends.
Your Favorite Postgrad
P.S. We can still hookup at Homecoming.