Today is your birthday. Happy birthday, Love! May you be safe. May you be peaceful. May you be healthy. May you live with ease.
Today marks your birthday, and also marks one year since She posted on your facebook wall while at your birthday party. Today marks one year and three weeks since we broke up. And one year and six weeks since I found Her hair on the carpet in the bedroom, on your side of the bed. Today marks one year and three months since I became suspicious. Once a cheater, always a cheater they said. I hoped they were wrong. I didn’t think you’d do it to me, like I’m sure She thinks you’ll never do it to Her. Love made a fool of me, and I’m betting Love will make a fool of Her too.
Congrats on your marriage, Love. That was fast! But I understand. You always said your parents wouldn’t accept a woman of a different race into the family unless she married in or gave them grandbabies. So I knew you’d act fast - get Her into the family before She has time to hear about your brother’s affinity for segregation or how your sister thinks She’s nice, but just doesn’t think people should date interracially. Congratulations, Love. I wish you and Her a lifetime of happiness that’s full of meaningful family gatherings.
Happy. Fucking. Birthday. To you, Love. And to your wife: may you be safe. May you be peaceful. May you be healthy. May you live with ease. When I met him, he had a girlfriend. Did you know that? We fucked for two months before he dumped her. I’ll never forget him saying this about our situation: “I wouldn’t call this cheating.” Three years later I met Karma when the cycle came full circle and he “didn’t” cheat on me with you. I wish you a lifetime of health and happiness, and good luck! Truly, I mean that sincerely. May old habits die easy for your sake and that of your marriage.
Today is your day, Love. But today I’m celebrating me and honoring myself. May I be safe. May I be peaceful. May I be healthy. May I live with ease. And may I continue to be the most important person in my own life. Because today marks one year and three weeks since we broke up. And one year and three weeks since I was gifted my independence back. And one year and three weeks since I felt I could finally breathe again, free of our deadweight relationship. I wake up with joy and gratitude now. I catch myself smiling with ease at how satisfied I am with my life. When I think of my future days and future years, I take comfort in knowing it is looking pretty damn good, and without you.
Happy birthday, Love! I’ll never forget you and I’ll always be thankful for many of our shared memories. The endless happy hours, days of biking around the city, baseball games, courtside seats at the NBA games, weekends getaways to wine country, Philly, Miami, and Baltimore. We knew how to have fun together! But we didn’t know how to love each other. I’m sorry I hated your house in the bum-fuck-nowhere suburbs so much. I’m sorry I didn’t move in with you when the lease on my apartment was up, but see previous sentence on your Shittown, USA, digs. I’m sorry I wasn’t super available when I started taking grad school prereqs. I’m sorry I couldn’t commit to you more while your job was in limbo. I’m sorry your family’s disapproval of their son dating interracially bothered me so deeply. I’m sorry that I grew to detest hearing about your side hustle, not to mention spending any of my time supporting it. Mostly, I’m sorry I stayed with you for three years when I could never picture a future with you that made me happy. We couldn’t love each other in ways we both deserve. It wasn’t meant to be. We should have ended things years earlier.
Happy birthday, Love. May you be safe. May you be peaceful. May you be healthy. May you live with ease. And more so than ever, I wish these things for myself. May I be safe. May I be peaceful. May I be healthy. May I live with ease. And may I continue to feel joy each and every day.
image of artwork by Tracey Emin