An Open Letter to the Leaver
Look, Jack, I don’t know who you are (and I’m sure your name isn’t even Jack, but it feels good to spit those hard consonants out of my mouth), but I want you to give me a call in 20 years. Or 30.
Just give me a call when the regret really sets in. When you know there’s no one like my friend.
When you have found another woman, one who feels right at the moment but who won’t go the extra mile for you. One who doesn’t think of you as her best friend in the world.
Run around, look, try to find another love like this out there in the world. It’s a big world, but I don’t think you’ll find it. You had your One. She was there, her heart in your hands, constant, for all those years.
She was willing to wait as you pursued your dreams. She was proud of you. She was ready for you to come back, victorious, and was ready to walk beside you every day of your life.
But you threw true love away. I would pity you, but I’m far too angry. So call me in 20 or 30 years. I’ll probably have worked up some pity for you by then, and by then, I’m sure you’ll need it.