Following a comprehensive internal review (conducted mostly in my head, late at night, while you were asleep and breathing very loudly), I have decided to dissolve our relationship, effective immediately. This decision reflects a strategic realignment of my emotional resources and should not be interpreted as a comment on your over-all market value, which, my friends have warned me, remains strong going into Q3.

I want to start by acknowledging that, in the early days, our partnership exceeded expectations. We had momentum—and, yes, even synergy. We had a shared sense that we were “not like other couples,” which at the time felt innovative. Meetings were spontaneous. Communication was high bandwidth. For a while, this worked.

However, as our relationship scaled, cracks began to emerge in the infrastructure. Small issues (my hatred of your friends, your disdain for my mother) were initially flagged as low-priority bugs. I assumed they would be resolved in a future update. Instead, they were folded into the core system, where they now power most of my anxiety.

Regarding the question of accountability, I should point out that, on paper, we agreed to a policy of “total honesty,” a truly groundbreaking idea that we felt distinguished us from competitors in the field. In practice, this meant that you would share your feelings in lengthy monologues about how I don’t listen, while I would nod and wonder when you were going to stop talking.

I should also address the sex, which, according to my earlier statements, was “so hot, babe.” This was a claim I made with extreme confidence and absolutely no supporting data. In reality, it followed a familiar pattern: strong early metrics, followed by gradual stagnation, and eventually a quiet dread of the logistical discussion required to initiate it. Our intimate moments occurred the way co-workers agree to grab coffee sometime: earnestly at first, then increasingly as a symbolic gesture to suggest connection without requiring too much engagement.

Several corrective measures were proposed and immediately sabotaged by my own cowardice. I floated phrases like “we should talk more” and “I just want us to be up front,” fully aware that, if you ever took me up on this invitation, I would fold instantly and insist everything was fine. You, meanwhile, continued operating in good faith; this only made me more irritated, because it robbed me of the ability to blame you cleanly.

Furthermore, I want to be transparent about scope creep. Somewhere along the way, my role in the relationship expanded from Partner to Emotional Help Desk. I became the point person for your work stress, your existential dread, and your recurring theory that everyone secretly hates you. While I admire your trust in me, this role was never formally negotiated, and I lack the emotional maturity to perform it effectively.

Our visions for the future are no longer aligned. You are seeking clarity, a clean apartment, and a defined road map to a wedding date. I am seeking silence, the return of my keys, and the freedom to emotionally disappear for three to twenty-four business days without triggering a performance review. These are incompatible goals.

By close of business today, I will be reclaiming my personal assets, including my weekends and my decision-making capacity. You may reclaim yours, including the good hoodie and your half of the streaming passwords. Though I’m sure we would both love to hang on to him, I can’t seem to find the version of myself who thought love was directly correlated with effort.

There will likely be a short transition period during which I text you a logistical question and accidentally add a flirty emoji (such as ☺️, or even 😜), causing unnecessary confusion. Please interpret this as legacy behavior, not a reëngagement strategy.

In closing, I want to say that this relationship mattered—it just no longer works at scale. I appreciate everything we built together, even if the final product was mostly résumé building and soft skills. Thank you for your time, your patience, and your future 2 A.M. “I miss you” texts. They will be most welcome as I move forward through several months of first dates that will ultimately lead me to regret this termination. ♦