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I assumed that like in any fairytale, from the moment I met you, you’d be the one I could count on—whenever I needed you, you’d always be there.
Before we were officially together—I remember the date, December 12, 2018—you would answer my messages even during the odd hours of the night and never fail to show up within minutes of my desperate cries for help. I guess that’s what happens before commitment is involved—a misrepresentation of what will be.
I will admit: despite the pleasant way things started out, based on my previous experiences, I had a feeling that as soon as I asked you to commit, you’d begin to be fickle. And I was right. Those first few weeks, you’d be choosy as to when and where you’d meet me.
To be fair, I guess asking to see you in ten minutes from when I reached out may have been pushing it a bit. Perhaps my expectations were set too high. But you had expectations too. And I fulfilled all of my relationship obligations without fail and in a reliable manner.
You never had to doubt that my commitment was real. You always had every girl throwing themselves at you, and to my knowledge, you rarely chose me over them—if ever.
But I had so many reasons to doubt you. When I flew home to the United States, you always refused to come with me. Maybe I did insist a bit too early in our relationship, but honestly, they say that when you’ve found the one, you’ll be able to feel it.
Perhaps I should have given it a few years to see the sentiment reciprocated, but honestly, you gave me no reason to ever expect that the love would be returned.
I was not and never have been your top priority. You always had every girl throwing themselves at you, and to my knowledge, you rarely chose me over them—if ever. It’s really unfortunate that I’ll never know if you did.
Looking back at our relationship, however, I realize that I was at fault too. I shouldn’t come calling at four in the morning and expect you to be there every time. I should never have expected you to be able to offer me the emotional support that I needed at such an early hour. But to be fair, based on your behavior toward me, maybe I should have never expected you to offer me that level of emotional support ever.
But you did do me a huge favour. And for that, I owe you my sincerest thanks.
Don’t bother crawling back. Find someone else to support you.
I guess it was after that third time that you weren’t able to help me after my late night out that I realized that you are not my keeper. It’s not your responsibility to take care of me. It’s mine. I need to work on myself first before I can expect anyone else’s contributions to my life to be meaningful.
I do wish that things had worked out between us. Ever since we sorted those initial glitches out, I have to admit that you never failed me. You were always there and exactly what I needed.
You were the missing piece of my life.
Every now and again, I pick up the phone to call, reminiscing about all the good times we had together. When I was sad, you were there with a tissue to dry up my tears. When I was happy, you were there with a piece of cake to celebrate with me. When I was angry, you opened my eyes and showed me that there was always something to feel good about.
At the time, I thought that you were really all that I could ever need in life.
Every girl hopes and dreams to find a relationship that makes her happy beyond compare. And I had it. I had it with you. It was right in front of me, but I ruined it. I stopped investing myself in you. I was suddenly so busy that the small amount of commitment that you requested from me became overwhelming.
If I’m being honest, I don’t even have a job yet. I’m still in university. I can barely support myself, let alone you. I guess, in the long run, it would all have balanced out though—you only really asked for a genuine investment in you once a month. But knowing me, it was only fair to you for us to break things off. Even that small amount, I still can’t give you.
Do I blame myself for how our relationship ended? Of course. Honestly, it was me, not you. That’s why I’m writing to apologize. I love you. I always have, and I always will. But what can I say? There’s something about cooking for myself that brings genuine satisfaction into my life. It’s a void that delivery can never fill.
You’ll always be my first. Deliveroo, I love you, and I’m sorry. But £11.49 per month? That’s just too much for me.
Don’t bother crawling back. Find someone else to support you. Because I’m done with you.