A BREAK UP

My Dearest Love,

I'll assume that by now you've heard the news. Perhaps you thought it a lie or some sort of cruel joke.
But unfortunately it's neither of those things.
The fact is, I'm leaving you.

You know I don't want to. And you know it's not because I don't love you.
I cherish you madly and always will. You were my first love after college. My pride and joy.

My EVERYTHING.

But you were never easy. NEVER that.
I've struggled to keep up with you all these years and still aren't quite sure how I managed to do it.
For one, you're just too expensive. No matter how much I spend on you you're never satisfied. You always want more of what I barely have
and then toss your back your head and laugh as if to say "You'll be fine- all that matters is that we're HERE. Together forever!"

Forever? Come on. I'm not naive enough to think I'm your only one. You've enticed so very many like me and told them everything was going to be all right.

But it's not alright.

Not anymore.

See, the truth is... I've met someone else. Someone you know. Someone you've never really gotten along with.
You've called her tawdry, uncultured, and back-stabbing.
And no, she's not perfect by any means. For all I know she'll be just as difficult as you. Maybe more so.
But what choice do I have?
She has more for me. More opportunities. More hope.
And that's what I need now. I'm not a kid anymore (although that's up for debate).
I've had two beautiful children with you now and they need so much more than you can give them.
They need space. A house. A yard. A beach close by. Legoland.

What's really tragic is that you won't even notice I'm gone. You'll just move on to the next guy. A younger one. With better hair. Fresh off the bus and eager to please.
You'll forget about me like all the others you've chased away over the years.

I can't say I'm not sorry. I've fought hard to stay with you for almost 20 years now. But it's time.
Time to move on.

So goodbye New York City.

I'm off to Los Angeles.

For all I know I'll come screaming back, begging you to take me back into your arms. And you probably won't even notice I was gone.
But until then...

I'll be on the West Coast starting 'round the end of July.

Will you at least wish me luck? Give me your blessing?
Maybe send me bagels?

I love you, NYC.

Forever and always,

Mr. Warburton
(formerly of the NYC Warburtons)