Breaking Up Is Not Really All That Hard To Do

Dear Las Vegas,

I don't think this letter will come as a surprise. I mean, you knew it was coming, right? You and I - we've known each other a long, long time, and this on again, off again thing we've got going? It's gotta stop.

The thing is, you're getting on my nerves. You just think you're so hot. And yes, I won't deny it. You ARE a hot little number. Everybody knows it. You don't have to prove a point. One hundred and twelve - it's just a little extreme, don't you think? All of the other western cities, they're not such show-offs. You could take a lesson. (Just don't look at Phoenix, he's incorrigible.)

But I've had enough. I'm leaving on Friday, heading for greener pastures with my trusty moving truck. By Saturday, you'll be a distant memory.

Oh, maybe I'm not being fair. When I left you back in 2004 I swore I'd never be back, never ever ever, that I was DONE with you forever. After I left, I made fun of you behind your back for years, telling everyone how much I hated you. And yet, when I ran into a rough patch and came crawling back a few months ago you showered us with higher salaries and fancy new parks and access to family and friends. You do have your good points.

The truth is, I could probably overlook all of it - the strippers and the gambling and the late nights and partying - but I have to be honest with you. There's someone else. He's someone I had a four year relationship with, and I've tried, I really have, but I just can't get him out of my head.

Remember that one night, when we were driving back into town and I was mad at you because of your skeazy billboards? You were all, "FREE ADULT SUPERSTORE 24 HOURS," and I was all, "I hate that you hang out with people like that. They're turning you into a sleazebag," and you were all, "LARGEST SELECTION OF ADULT BOOKS EVER," and I was all, "Oh, Utah, how I miss you," and you were all, "SERIOUSLY WE'VE GOT A LOT OF ADULT STUFF IN HERE - HEY, wait a minute. WHO'S UTAH?" And I was all, "Um. Never mind. Nothing."

It almost got very awkward, but then we turned off into a residential area and you got distracted and started yammering on about square footage and desert landscaping and low low prices and you forgot all about my little slip up.

I was surprised you didn't see right through me. Because my lover Utah? He had me in his sweet, sweet, ruggedly outdoorsy yet freakishly clean cut spell even then. If loving him is wrong, I just don't wanna be right.

Shut up! Don't talk about him like that. He is NOT schizophrenic and moody. He just - runs a little hot and cold. Sure, he might get all up in my face during the day (kinda like you actually) all "Look at me, I'm so hot - go away before I scorch you with my hotness," but when the sun starts to go down he cools off and wants to be a good boyfriend again, and he gives me sweet, sweet sixty degree temps to prove it. Yeah, sometimes he freezes me out. But I can live with that kind of moody. Oh yeah, baby, can I ever live with it.

It's gonna be a little awkward for us, Las Vegas. I'm gonna be back to visit a lot. My friends and family are here, and I know they have to deal with you, so we'll probably be a part of each other's lives for a long time. Just - not like this. Not anymore.

Do me a favor, will you? Treat my friends and family right. Don't be mad if they come visit me and my new man. After all, they might love me, but they like you too. During some of the worst parts of our relationship, they kept telling me all of the good things about you. When I called you a sleazy dirt bag they said, "Awww, Sue, he's not so bad. You just have to look for the good parts." They were pulling for you. I mean, they want me to be happy, but they were also sort of hoping we could make things work. In the end, I think they knew it just wasn't meant to be.

If I could give you some friendly parting advice, I'd tell you to hang out in the suburbs a little more. They're a good influence on you. Stop spending so much time hanging out with strippers and county commissioners, don't crush beer cans on your forehead, and try to go a little easier on the porn, o.k.?

I hope you know that I'll always care about you.... In a vaguely repulsed but still sort of caring way.

Thanks for all of the memories.

Sort of fondly,

Sue

P.S. Don't try to contact me, Las Vegas. I won't even have internet until Wednesday, and you know how I feel about the phone.